How to Tell Human Stories That Really Land
Even the best-planned narratives can unravel in front of the camera. And sometimes, that’s the best thing that can happen.
When I began filming Emily’s Gift – a campaign set up by Julie, who lost her daughter to cancer – I thought I knew the story. Julie was a professional saxophonist, and I imagined music would be her way of navigating grief. It seemed elegant – a neat thread to weave the film around.
But when I asked her about it, she simply said: “No, not really.”
In that single moment, the storyline I’d mapped out collapsed.
When the Story Shifts
Later, I interviewed Kai, a nine-year-old who’d been through treatment. Almost casually, I asked what he remembered about being diagnosed at six. His response was devastatingly simple:
“First thing I thought was ‘Why me?’ Second – ‘How did I get this?’ Third – ‘Am I going to die?’”
It was raw, unfiltered truth. And it changed the direction of the film instantly. The heart of the story wasn’t Julie’s music. It was the child’s voice – his honesty about fear and survival.
The Importance of Flexibility
This is why I always design a process that balances structure with flexibility. The Story Clarity System lays the groundwork, but it also allows space for the unexpected.
Because the strongest stories often aren’t the ones you plan. They’re the ones that appear in unscripted moments – a pause in an interview, a child’s words, a parent’s silence.
When those moments show up, you follow them.
Making Complex Stories Human
The same principle applies when working with technical or scientific subjects. It’s easy to get lost in the systems – the data, the procedures, the breakthroughs. But those only matter because they touch people’s lives.
That’s why I always start with the Four Ps: People, Place, Plot, Purpose. They keep the story rooted in human terms. If you can show me the parent who finally sleeps at night, or the patient who regains their independence, then even the most complex science becomes relatable.
Truth Over Perfection
Audiences can sense when a story has been engineered to fit a message. It feels too neat, too tidy, and they disengage.
But when the truth comes through – however imperfect, however unscripted – people listen, because it feels real.
And that’s what moves them.




