To what end? Stories need a job.

I've spent the past two weeks reading scholarship applications, which always gives me a window into how people think about the future.

Some students know exactly where they are headed. One applicant laid out a very specific path to a PhD in ruminant nutrition. Others chose colleges based on the best offer to play a sport and are, very reasonably, still contemplating the world of career possibilities.

When I was a senior in high school, I didn't know either. I wasn't much clearer as a senior in college, which is how I ended up with a degree in German. (To be clear, I did not have a grand international career in mind. What I had was a lot of credit from being an exchange student in Germany for a year, and I was ready to be done.)

At some point, not deciding also becomes a decision.

Organizations do this with their communications. They know they want people to understand them better. They want more support, more participation, more of the right people engaged. So they start telling stories. They post on social media, send the newsletter, say yes when a media outlet comes calling. And the stories are often good.

But ask what those stories are supposed to accomplish, and most people don't really know.

My first question to new clients is, “What are you hoping to accomplish with your communications?” At least twice a year, people break down in tears because they are overwhelmed trying to figure it out.

Last week we kicked off four organizations in an Awareness Engine cohort sponsored by a private foundation exploring how to support storytelling in rural communities. On the surface, that sounds like a storytelling project.

But the first question isn’t “What stories should we tell?”

The first question is: to what end?

Are the stories meant to attract new residents? Build pride among people who are already there? Help local employers talk about the region to potential recruits? Encourage former residents to reconsider what’s possible back home? Give civic leaders and funders better language for why investment in rural communities matters?

Those are all real goals. They’re also not the same goal.

In a sports analogy, the first question is to know what game we’re playing. Football, gymnastics, and curling all require discipline and real commitment. But the playbook and movements are entirely different.

Storytelling works the same way. A food bank making the case for a capital campaign is not telling the same story it would use to recruit corporate volunteers. A health nonprofit trying to reach a new service area is not telling the same story it would use to retain existing donors. A story written to build pride among current residents may not be the same story you would use to recruit a family from three counties away. A story meant to help employers talk about the community may not be the same story you would use to help a funder understand what rural investment could make possible.

The story needs a job.

This is where a lot of communications work — and a lot of well-intentioned communications investment — drifts. Organizations start collecting good stories before they’ve defined what those stories are supposed to support. So they end up sharing content everyone agrees is meaningful, but nothing seems to change.

If you’re leading an organization, the question worth contemplating is what your communications are supposed to help happen. Not “raise awareness.” That’s a category, not a destination. What specific shift (what behavior, what decision, what change in understanding)  needs to happen for your work to gain real traction?

A story without a job is just a nice story. It may be true. It may even get compliments.

But if no one can say what it’s supposed to help change, it’s very hard to know whether it’s working.

Lori