The stories we tell in moments of crisis

A story that’s not relevant to the audience might as well not be told.

Building relevance is finding where a story belongs in the moment it is released, and whether it respects the emotional weather its audience is currently living through. When a major event shifts the collective mindset, we often reshape stories to meet it. Stories do not exist in isolation; they exist inside time, place, and shared experience. When the ground moves, socially, politically, and environmentally, stories that ignore that movement risk feeling hollow, performative, or worse, indifferent.

When Sri Lanka was shaken up by the disaster of Cyclone Ditwah, several stories being produced in our studio for the island's audiences were paused and carefully reconsidered to assess whether they were appropriate, necessary, and true to the moment.

In situations like this, we talk to our clients to understand their genuine responses to the ongoing situation, and refer back to the values of their brand articulation framework before reshaping stories to be relevant, sensitive and respectful to what’s happening in the daily lives of their audience. This process is about maintaining honesty and sensitivity in stories, and the willingness to sit with uncertainty rather than rush to fill silence.

For some businesses, the stories were a direct channel to support relief efforts and offer solidarity. Our role as story makers was to extract their genuine sentiments and efforts and bring them into story formats that matched their most successful communication platforms; seen in this example is one such story made to call for relief support through Instagram. It channelled Black Cat's Caregiver and Lover archetypal persona.

In the aftermath of Cyclone Ditwah in Sri Lanka, we reshaped or completely restructured planned stories to imbue sensitivity, relief efforts and helpful insight into the stories of client businesses; to give shape to their grief, empathy, and solidarity through stories, while staying true to their voice and values. This didn’t mean turning every story into commentary or every business into a spokesperson. Stories can acknowledge loss without exploiting it. They can offer support without centering themselves. They can point toward relief, resources, or collective care without pretending to be heroes. Stories should be genuine acts of participation rather than declarations.

Often, this means slowing down production, stripping stories back to their core intention, and asking what role, if any, they should play right now. Sometimes the answer is to offer support, relief, or insight. Sometimes it is to step aside altogether. And yes, this process costs us extra in production time, but we’d rather do more for better stories than maintain strict build cycles for so-so outcomes.

In some cases, it was about offering insight; in Rithihi's case, being a brand with a dominant Sage archetype, offering insight into the culture of giving was a genuine response that stemmed from the business itself. We only create the longform stories for the Rithihi blog, while their in-house team handles the blog formatting and what's published on social media. But, we always offer capsule versions of the longform stories designed by us, to point their audience to the blog; like this one.

Being able to express, connect, and mobilize is important for entrepreneurs and businesses in moments of collective crisis. Not because businesses must suddenly become moral authorities, but because they are part of the social fabric. They employ people, serve communities, and operate within shared systems that are also affected by disruption. This is because the work they do always starts as a response to the society and the world they inhabit. No business is created in a vacuum. Products, services, and ideas emerge from specific needs, tensions, and cultural conditions. When those conditions change, responding thoughtfully is not a deviation from the work; it’s a continuation of it.

That’s what makes responding to the realities of our world an extension of the work of a business; it’s not CSR, it’s not charity, nor is it being exceptional. It is simply being alive and responsive to the world a business shares with its audience. Responsiveness is not about virtue-signalling; it is about relevance, respect, and responsibility.

Stories that a business tells are a big part of these living, real, and relevant conversations that it has with its audience. Stories are where values become visible, where intent is tested against reality, and where trust is either strengthened or eroded.

Where does the story live?

Picture this: a person cuts across the grass, avoiding the neatly paved corner of a sidewalk. Over time, others follow, and a natural trail emerges—simple, direct, human. These are desire paths, the unplanned trails created by how people truly want to move through a space. They reveal human intention and preference.

This is a concept I often revisit when thinking about how stories are told and experienced in different places. Because I’ve often found that we (the audiences) find and follow our own "desire paths" through narratives.

Where will the story live for the audience?

Does the story start on a webpage, maybe as a shared link? Or does it start as they walk down the street, and notice the sign hanging above the business? Perhaps it’s a magazine article that catches their interest? A smell when you walk into a room, or a printed T-shirt hidden within the folds of a friend’s closet? Maybe it appears in the opening credits of a film, or wrapped around a product at a farmers market?

The story location shapes not only how the story is told, but also how it is experienced.

When done well, the storytelling creates an immersive phenomenon. The different touchpoints of the story become an ecosystem, a world unto itself. There are several components to these kinds of stories—colors, typography, décor, sounds, smells, or lighting—each is selected, curated, or crafted to enhance or supplement the narrative.

It could be a mural that tells the history of a business, or a particular lighting that creates a stunning show. There are always opportunities to entertain, set a mood, or make your opinion clear, while still serving a functional purpose.

So, like I asked the visual communication students in my last seminar: where will the story live, and what can its setting reveal about the audience's journey? How we design that story—the trail they will follow—defines how they experience and remember it.

Food for thought.

If you’re interested in ideas about storytelling and design, feel free to get in touch with us to learn more about my workshops and seminars, or WhatsApp us at +94 77 764 7096

Stories bring us together (P1): Something to listen to and something to look at

Something to listen to

Few stories seem to hold as much attention as the ones told by a survivor; they tap into universal themes of resilience, strength, and hope. These narratives often reveal our incredible ability to overcome adversity. 

“If I tell the sorrows of my heart it will burn my tongue, If I keep it in my heart I’m afraid it will burn me from the inside. But If I let it out, I fear that it will burn the world” - a father who lost his sons.

I’m listening to Yuval Noah Harari discuss how stories can unite or divide us. Some lead to cooperation, others lead to conflict. Wars are fought not just over resources or territory but over the underlying stories that justify and give meaning to those resources and territories. 

And we can also change our minds about stories too. I’m thinking of "The General" by Dispatch; particularly the lyrics "Take a shower, shine your shoes, you got no time to lose," It's a song about the futility of war. It tells the story of a war-weary general who, after a profound realization, urges his soldiers to abandon the fight and go live their lives. 

There is a term for when a positive psychological change occurs as a result of experiencing a highly challenging circumstance; they call it post-traumatic growth. I think, to a certain degree, we’ve all experienced or witnessed this at some point. It’s a soft sage-like patience in the moment of crisis; a profound calmness and understanding. 

Listen to Nina Simone's live recording of Who Knows Where the Time Goes. Some messages are more powerful when spoken softly. I feel gratitude when I listen to this song. You’ll recognize the survivor in her voice. 

These are our shared myths; they aren’t epic stories of gods and nations, they are personal narratives of survival. If you are into these moods, check out my Change is Gonna Come playlist. Fair warning, these are big feelings songs.

Something to look at

There’s a beautiful film about a man named Mr. Badii (played by Homayoun Ershadi), who drives through the outskirts of Tehran, searching for someone to help him with his plan to end his life. Directed by Abbas Kiarostami and set in contemporary Iran. It’s called "Taste of Cherry" and is a visual masterpiece in my view. The film goes into some deep existential questions about human connection, and life and death—these are big themes we all are familiar with, regardless of cultural background. This is an example of how stories can bridge cultural gaps and connect us through common human experiences.

It's a bit of a slow-paced film with moments of dialogue. Long takes and stationary shots allow the scenes to unfold naturally without cuts. This kind of visual and narrative strategy creates a space for the audience to get to know the story's characters.

This is a good way to approach brand development. It’s better to give enough time between changes for customers to familiarize themselves with the difference. We often refer to this as the 25% rule; as the minimum amount to retain. Gradual changes over time help maintain familiarity and trust with existing customers.

I often advise entrepreneurs to approach developing their business identity and personality similarly. Sometimes the core identity doesn’t emerge at first; I’ve worked with businesses that start with a particular idea, and by the time they launch, they’ve changed their entire model. So I find it’s better to leave room for the brand to grow along the same path as the business. 

Businesses are like people, as they grow so does their sense of identity and personality. Let the business story unfold naturally. A logo will become more meaningful over time. This is why I think a brand is as much built on reputation as it is on vision. The stories we tell shape identities and perceptions.