Starting with a story

Among the various bullies who roamed my old primary school playground, the most memorable was a boy called Schumann. A beefy, squat figure, he would bear down on some smaller child quietly eating a cheese sandwich or playing marbles, and ask, “Hey – you got a problem with me?”

Nowadays I recognise his line as a compelling opening that elicited emotion, thought and action. A problem – with Schumann? Heavens, no! Let me soothe him with some marbles, or the other half of my sandwich.

I don’t think Schumann meant to impart any skills, but his line offers a lesson to writers who have knowledge and ideas to share. Even an interested audience may be reluctant to commit themselves to reading; it might feel like a chore, valuable but arduous. A striking beginning provides extra motivation.

One approach that can be highly effective – and the focus of this piece – is an opening story. Take the introductory article in Egon Zehnder’s recent series on CEO leadership, by Dick Patton and Kati Najipoor-Schütte. It starts like this:

In Catalonia, on the outskirts of Barcelona, stands an extraordinary structure. With towers and arches that echo traditional regional architecture, buzzing interconnected workspaces, and lush greenery spilling from courtyards and rooftops, the complex seems part workshop, part cathedral, part playground. But the site was not always bursting with such vitality. In 1973, when young architect Ricardo Bofill first spotted it, this abandoned cement factory was a polluted ruin. 

The reader’s mind fills with images of organic and architectural abundance – and then runs up against an intriguing contrast between the ruin of the past and the vibrant present. Who is this Bofill, and what does his transformative work tell us about executive leadership? One reads on, and learns about Bofill’s mindset, which leads smoothly to Egon Zehnder’s insights about what it takes to be a top-level leader in our times.

It’s important that the opening story is not simply a gimmick, a way of saying Now that I have your attention, let me turn to the real topic. It should express or lead naturally to a guiding idea, or help to set a tone. Schumann appears at the start of this piece because he intuitively knew the power of an arresting opening. Similarly, any anecdote should have a larger significance.

In an article on the ways in which automation of public services can transform customer experience, the authors – McKinsey consultants Matthias Daub, Tony D’Emidio, Zaana Howard, and Seckin Ungur – begin by describing a pleasurable interaction that has broader resonance:

Who knew that one could develop warm feelings for a German Federal Employment Agency chatbot? If you own a business and wish to apply for state funds to supplement your employees’ reduced salaries, then UDO will fill in the application form for you. “Let’s go!” the digital assistant declares, launching into a series of questions.

The authors compactly describe the system’s reassuring expertise, and its clear and soothing interface. Then they round off the episode:

And by now, a powerful and comforting thought may well arise in the citizen’s mind: UDO really cares.

The description has a touch of humour, and of assurance – and plants in the reader’s mind the article’s key question of how public service automation can provide citizens with an improved experience.

An opening can succinctly set the tone and establish expectations for a long piece without itself being lengthy. In the midst of the pandemic, an author team from McKinsey – Caroline Armour, Lucille Danks, Jacob Johnson, Simon Kennedy, Charlie Taylor and Eleni Watts – wrote a detailed article describing trends in Australia’s industries and workforces to help leaders understand emerging and near-future conditions. They wanted to emphasise the importance and usefulness of peering ahead, even in highly volatile conditions. Here’s how they began:

Novelist E. L. Doctorow compared writing with driving a car at night. “You never see further than your headlights,” he said, “but you can make the whole trip that way.” Doctorow’s metaphor is apt for leaders navigating an unprecedented global crisis, in which expectations regarding health, the economy, politics, and society are unsettled, and long-term predictions are speculative. If we stay alert to the paths and pitfalls just ahead, our limited vision might see us through.

Of course, an anecdote is just one kind of opening tool. A great start needn’t feature it; rather, for instance, the author might clearly and sharply lay out what is to come, giving the reader confidence that they’re in the hands of an expert. But if a short tale suggests itself naturally, is suitable in tone, and serves to introduce the message of the article, it can be an effective way to invite the attention of busy people, who – being human – love a story.