Storytelling Matters

Stories can tell us a lot about ourselves. The tales we tell each other are often influenced by the time and place in which they're told. They can impart wisdom, recount past events, express thoughts and ideas, or simply serve as fun yarns we use to entertain ourselves. The methods may change, but the core idea remains the same: storytelling is a vehicle for human expression—perhaps the most important means by which we pass knowledge on to one another.

However, in the modern era of hyper-consumerism, storytelling has drifted away from entertainment. It has instead become a vehicle for more insular, less communal motives. Some writers use it as a means of entertaining themselves—an inside joke that only they understand. Others treat it as a coping mechanism for their own mental health, turning it into a glorified therapy session often delivered at the expense of the studio and, by extension, the audience. Then there are those who wield it as a delivery system for propaganda, a personal prescription for how the world should be. And finally, you have the faceless, greedy corporations whose sole desire is profit—whether extracted from a creator’s decades of toil, or slapped together on an assembly line by apathetic, mercenary creators.

Regardless of the methodology or intent, storytelling matters. Any story worth telling requires genuine investment from an audience willing to give it. The key to earning that investment is sincerity. Audiences can sense almost immediately whether the creator takes their craft seriously. When a story is well-crafted and internally consistent, viewers become easily invested, granting the work a longevity that can turn it into a lasting cultural touchstone. By contrast, a poorly written story—one that is sloppily thought out and riddled with inconsistencies—quickly loses its audience. What could have been great is instead reduced to a permanent niche, enjoyed ironically or studied as a cautionary tale about the pitfalls of bad storytelling.

Stories matter. Their value to us as a species is immeasurable. They should mean more to us than just being drive-by time wasters; fiction without purpose that is easily discarded like bodily refuse. They tell us who we are, where we've been, and what we wish to aspire towards. If the stories being told today indicate that we've become an insular, self-obsessed, nihilistic culture, can storytelling as a method of communication ever truly matter again?

Never say never. But the implication suggests that we've become stagnant. Stuck in a cultural rut, unable to back out of it. Or rather, unwilling to try. We've become too comfortable. Too many creators are unwilling to take risks, whether out of financial concerns, or having to constantly be taking into account the ever-changing sensitivities of the time. Because of this, an induced cultural malaise has taken hold. We're so preoccupied with deconstructing what came before, that we've lost sight of what could be. Instead of writing the next chapter, we obsessively revise the previous ones, embarrassed by who we once were. Continuously softening every edge until it resembles a dulled, featureless shape. Bland, inoffensive, stripped of its personality and charm.

Storytellers should take risks. Not everything needs to appeal to everyone, nor should it have to. Our tastes naturally differ from one another. However, the one unifying principal that can uplift us from this is simple: sincerity. You should care about the stories you tell, otherwise, why bother? If the people telling the story don’t care, then why should we?