Sticky Stories: What Makes Them Last

“Give them the 2 + 2, not the 4.”

We can talk all day about what makes a story engaging — pacing, character, tension, stakes. But what really makes a story stick?

In my experience, the moments that linger are the ones that are emotionally vivid and clearly illustrated. When we paint a scene that draws someone in — when we make them feel something — we create a kind of bond between their emotional world and ours. And it’s that emotional resonance that lasts, long after the story ends.

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

— Maya Angelou

Data can be referenced. Feelings are remembered.

You could present all the facts and analytics in the world, but if you don’t stir someone’s heart, it won’t land. Pack that same data inside a story that moves them — now they’ll remember.

When it comes to creating sticky moments in story, the old adage comes to mind:

“Show, don’t tell.”

I’ve heard this since middle school English, but I rely on it even more now as a teaching artist.

When we write, this makes sense — we have only our words, so we work hard to describe the world of the story, to convey emotions without naming them outright.

But with oral storytelling, we suddenly have more tools: our voice, tone, pacing, silence. These all shape how an audience feels a moment. And yet, the same rule applies: how can I show, even when I’m speaking?

How can I use these tools to create meaning that goes deeper than words alone?

There’s a great TED Talk from filmmaker Andrew Stanton (Pixar) that still sticks with me. He says our job as storytellers is not to give the audience the “4,” but to give them the “2 + 2.” In other words, we give them just enough — and let them reach the emotional truth on their own.

Then there’s digital storytelling — a medium with even more complexity, because we have an expanded toolkit:

• Voiceover for tone and rhythm

• Sound effects to build a world

• Music to guide emotion and energy

• Images and video to ground the viewer visually

• Graphics and text to add clarity or abstraction

But with all these tools, it becomes even easier to tell rather than show.

Our job becomes that of a conductor — choosing when to let each instrument play, and when to pull it back.

When I’m in the editing phase of a digital story, I often ask:

“What is serving the emotional arc in this moment?”

A colleague of mine likes to ask:

“What does this buy us?”

Both are reminders not to throw every tool at the screen just because we can. Sometimes, less gives us more.

Here’s a small example:

We see an image of a mother and son. The camera slowly zooms in. The voiceover ends, and a soft bed of strings begins to rise. The zoom continues — just their smiling faces now — then, suddenly, cut to black. Silence.

Then: the voice returns.

“That was when everything changed.”

The scene ends.

By isolating each element — letting them work in sequence — we heighten the emotional moment. We let the audience feel the weight of it, instead of spelling it out.

Making a story stick isn’t about complexity. It’s about connection.

And in digital storytelling, we have more tools than ever to create that connection — not just to inform or impress, but to invite someone in, and leave them changed.

So we show. We reveal. We feel our way through.
And if we do it well, the story doesn’t just stick.
It stays.