The ethical conversation of telling others’ stories comes down to power, profit, and participation.

In times of change, people need to know what exactly is changing, what will stay the same, and how will we navigate it all. Effective change management will address each—ideally, with an unforgettable story.

Many leaders fail at telling compelling stories because they think their message equals their story. Wanna know what good corporate storytelling looks like? Check out Warby Parker.

Many leaders make the mistake of telling broad, generalized stories instead of specific stories about specific events. Summaries are not stories. The story is in the details.

There are many, many ways to tell any one story. You could start or end the story in different places each time. You could emphasize certain details over others. You could expand or contract the story. And all these choices depend on one question: What’s the point?

I was coaching a musician on his “About Me” story, when I suggested he work in some vulnerability to stimulate connection. He looked at me with a bit of sadness and confusion and said, “I don’t want to talk about my challenges. I don’t want people seeing that this has been difficult for me. I don’t think that’s a good look.”

When I moved to Belfast ten years ago, I didn’t know a soul. But a friendly Irish stranger offered to pick me up from the airport when I arrived. That meeting changed the course of my life.

A guest post from corporate storytelling expert David Hutchens on how to find the beating heart of your story so that you can move your audience every time.

There are lots of wonderful models for learning how to tell a story. One I particularly like is called STAR. It’s fairly fail-proof when it comes to telling an engaging story.

There are many ways to tell a story. Storytellers throughout the centuries have invented no shortage of archetypes. And despite the wide array of nuances and inversions in these story-types, they all build upon the same foundation: stories narrate the challenges we face, the choices we make in the face of those challenges, and what happens as a result of those choices.

Arguing with facts only makes us feel threatened and therefore throw up the shields and grab the spears. A well-told story, though, has a different effect.

When we listen to an engaging story, our brains sync up with the tellers’ in a fascinating phenomenon called “neural coupling.” It’s basically like we logged into the same WiFi and then connect our brains over BlueTooth.

Stories trigger three primary chemicals in our brains: cortisol, dopamine, and oxytocin. This trifecta is an intensely powerful combination, and I’ll tell you why.

The first stories humans told each other 10,000 years ago were about which berries to avoid in the fields. Stories weren’t invented for entertainment; they were invented for survival.

When I was a kid, I acted out everything I saw in the movies. It presented a bit of a problem for my parents. Stories always lit up my imagination. They made me believe. And this is one of the reasons why stories are so important.

A few months after I launched a live storytelling event in Nashville, a fella named Greg submitted a story proposal. The “story” essentially read like this: “I went to a conference on climate change. Here are the things I learned.” There was just one problem, though…

The first time I got to hear my dad’s medical stories I was 13. I sat, with my feet on the floor like the “adults,” and listened as he shared two stories about encounters with patients. And they were not at all what I expected to hear.

Honestly, this is probably my fourth attempt to find my stride in the blogosphere. But this time is going to be different. Why? Because I finally have clarity. I know what I have to offer, and more importantly, I know what problem I can help you solve.