The One Thing Every Story Has (And That Many Storytellers Ignore)

“To My Chris,
I’ve been thinking how I can possibly tell you what you mean to me.
I remember when I first started falling in love with you like it was last night.”

That’s how the film Her opens: with Joaquin Phoenix in close-up, speaking each line slowly, deliberately, as if he’s chosen every word with care. Less than a minute in, the audience is drawn in by a simple love letter. We don’t know who he’s speaking to, or where he is—there’s no context. But the emotional pull is immediate and undeniable.

Most business storytelling workshops focus on the basics: character, conflict, and structure. These elements matter, but they’re not what the most successful filmmakers obsess over.

Emotions are the heart of every story. Without them, it’s hard to connect with fictional characters. Take Forrest Gump, Spider-Man, or Elizabeth Bennet. It’s not their appearance or specific circumstances that draw us in—it’s Forrest’s innocent outlook, Peter’s growing pains, and Elizabeth’s journey of self-discovery. Their emotions make them real to us. Without that emotional anchor, it would be much harder to suspend our disbelief.

The opposite of emotion in storytelling is information. Imagine if Her had opened with a scene showing the main character at his desk, revealing that he ghostwrites personal letters for people who struggle to express themselves. It’s not a bad opening, just a different choice. While emotional openings create instant connection, information-first scenes take longer to engage the audience, but can be just as effective. Many films start this way, like Star Wars with its iconic text crawl, or The Big Short, where Ryan Gosling breaks down the mechanics of banking right from the start.

Star Wars, directed by George Lucas

Most business storytelling workshops, whether at conferences or online courses, focus on the basics: character, conflict, and structure. These elements matter, but they’re not what the most successful filmmakers obsess over. To understand why some stories resonate and others fade, we need to look beyond what’s being said to who’s saying it. When you read, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”, who do you imagine is saying it? Now compare that to the beginning of Her, where the character speaks directly. The difference between the two is rooted in narrative perspective and its effect on any type of communication is immediate and decisive.

Narrative Perspective

You might remember learning about literary modes back in middle school. These modes define how a story is delivered: whether the storyteller is inside a character’s mind (first person), observing from the outside (third person), or offering full access to a character’s inner world (omniscient) versus keeping that distance (limited). In film, these narrative modes are often simplified into two core perspectives—and those same perspectives can be applied to all forms of communication, from pitching and marketing to sales and internal messaging.

Narrative Perspective is an advanced storytelling tool that great storytellers use with intention. It allows them to shape how the audience relates to a character—by revealing information the character doesn’t yet know, or by creating emotional distance so the audience can judge their actions more critically. This is how anti-heroes are born, and how tension is built through dramatic irony. At the heart of these complex techniques is a simple but powerful question: Who is telling the story right now? Is it the storyteller, standing apart from the character? Or is it the character itself, speaking from within their experience?

Let’s try to apply the two forms of perspectives, observational and subjective, to the opening of a pitch:

“When professors are hired to teach at a university, no one usually asks if they even know how to teach.”

This is how I opened some of my early pitches for my EdTech startup, Quonder—a striking fact that set the stage for the problem we set out to solve. Many founders begin this way, leading with information. This approach uses what we can call an observational perspective. In it, the storyteller (in this case, the person pitching) presents facts and the audience is expected to receive that information as truth. But do they? That depends on one critical factor: trust. Even when information is accurate, it’s never truly neutral. It’s always shaped by the intent of the person delivering it. Just like the alternative opening to Her, an observational perspective often takes longer to land. That’s because, even if the message appears objective, the audience senses a storyteller behind it. As a result, suspension of disbelief must contend with logic rather than emotion. This makes the delivery of information more complex than it might appear; it must consider the storyteller’s relationship with the audience. Because in the end, data alone doesn’t build trust, the voice delivering it does.

What if my pitch started this way:

“When I was hired as a professor at Hogwarts, I was surprised that no one even checked whether I could actually teach.”

This is an example of a subjective perspective. The statement could be followed by data, but like the opening of Her, it leads first with character and emotion. It invites the audience to identify with the speaker. That identification happens because there’s a shared expectation: when someone is hired to teach, we assume their ability to teach matters. The surprise that it didn’t is an opportunity for alignment between the speaker and the audience, and that creates an emotional pull.

Other storytelling techniques are at work here too: avoiding abstraction by grounding a specific character (the speaker, not some unknown person) in a known setting (Hogwarts), making the situation easy for the audience to imagine. This kind of perspective builds connection before delivering information.

These two examples highlight the difference between a removed, observational approach and a subjective one, but that’s just the beginning. Remember, narrative perspective isn’t simply about delivering emotion or information—it’s about who is telling the story. If we choose a subjective perspective, then whose inner world are we entering? Is it the customer’s? The audience’s? Or our own? And if we opt for an observational approach, how far away do we want to push the audience? These questions go beyond traditional storytelling techniques. They push us to think about narrative perspective as a strategic tool in shaping connection and establishing trust.

Take these two examples from the same pitch:

“When I applied for my first teaching job, there was no interview. They immediately put me in front of kids and left me alone.” —This appears subjective, but it’s actually observational if delivered in a neutral tone. It invites the audience to think critically about the situation, creating a layer of distance between them and the speaker’s experience. That separation can later be used to create a sense of discovery or amplify emotional impact.

“Think of the best professor you’ve ever had. Why were they so good? Now, what if I told you there’s a good chance they never received any formal training in teaching?”—This is subjective, but the emotional core lives within the listener. It’s built on their personal memory and connection, making the story feel intimate.

In all of these examples, the core story is the same: professors are expected to know how to teach despite receiving no support from the institution. What changes is how the story is told: the narrative perspective.

It’s now widely accepted that storytelling plays a major role in business. That’s why storytelling is taught in business schools and offered through entrepreneurial networks and communities. Storytelling techniques shape everything from websites and social media posts to recruiting ads, sales pitches, and internal communications. Each of these moments is an opportunity to tell a compelling story—but every story is told through a perspective. It’s not a question of whether perspective is present; it’s whether it’s chosen intentionally or left to chance.

Here are a few more examples of how narrative perspective applies across different types of messaging:

  • Social media hooks
    The most effective hooks spark an emotional response. That’s why rage-bait works, but rage isn’t the only emotion worth tapping into. Look at high-performing posts, and you’ll notice various ways creators quickly evoke empathy, nostalgia, curiosity, or joy. These posts often use a subjective perspective (either by using first person “I” or second person “You”) to create instant connection.
  • Media interviews
    Instead of simply explaining what you do (an observational approach), try leading with a personal story that creates alignment. A subjective perspective draws the audience in, helping them identify with you. You can layer in facts or achievements after the emotional connection is established.
  • Recruitment ads
    Avoid generic questions like “Looking for meaningful work?” and speak directly to the person you want to reach. Ignore the rest. A subjective message shows that you understand their world, and that’s what breaks through the noise.
  • Internal team alignment
    Use the subjective perspective to unite your team. Share personal stories and open up emotionally so others can see themselves in your experience. This builds cohesion and trust faster than any mission statement.
  • Sales conversations
    Rather than leading with features or stats, reflect a subjective experience your client knows well. This signals that you understand them and builds the trust that allows the conversation to move forward.

The most common mistake novice filmmakers make is misaligning their narrative perspective—cutting to a wide, observational shot in a moment that calls for a close-up, subjective one. The same misstep shows up in business messaging: websites that start with “We are the leading platform…” or pitches overloaded with data before any emotional connection is made. For every message you deliver (whether it’s a tweet, a speech, or a homepage headline) ask yourself: what perspective will move my audience? Choose it deliberately. That’s what turns information into influence.