It was a rainy afternoon as Dan sat at his desk, the cursor blinking like a tiny metronome on an empty document.
He had written countless lectures on security, written training and courses, policies, protocols, risk assessments… but this was different. He had been asked for something fresh: “Make storytelling the centrepiece. Show people how to tell stories that stick.”
Dan sighed. He knew the theory: characters, conflict, resolution. But how do you teach storytelling without sounding like a textbook? He wanted something engaging, something that would make people lean in.
He started typing:
“Storytelling is important because…”
Delete. Too dry.
“In security, stories help…”
Delete. Still boring.
The deadline loomed like a shadow. He opened tabs, skimmed articles, scrolled through LinkedIn posts. Everyone seemed to say the same thing: “Stories matter.” But none showed how to make them matter.
Then, an idea sparked. What if the guide itself was a story? A meta-story about someone trying to write a story. He smiled. That someone could be him.
Dan began again:
“Dan stared at the blank page…”
He wrote about his struggle, his frustration, his moment of inspiration. He added tension – the ticking clock, the pressure to deliver. He gave himself a resolution: finding the answer in the act of storytelling itself.
By the time he finished, the page was no longer blank. It was alive – with a character, a conflict, and a message: To teach storytelling, you have to live it.
Dan leaned back, satisfied. For the first time that day, the cursor wasn’t mocking him. It was resting at the end of a story worth sharing.
Security can sometimes feel complex. Or like a set of rules. Or just unrelatable.
All of these lead us to losing our audience.
This is why storytelling matters. They help people relate to content, understand risks, remember lessons, and know what actions they can take – as the protagonist in their own story.