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You are a Narrative Being
For better or worse.
By Simon Sticker, Documentary Storyteller
The Suction of Story
You do not wake up in the morning calculating your life in spreadsheets. You tune in to the private film that has been running since childhood: a sweeping epic in which you are hero, narrator, and attentive audience all at once. The pull of that interior cinema is so strong that, as Jonathan Gottschall describes it in his book ‘The Storytelling Animal’, “Human minds yield helplessly to the suction of story.” We are narrative beings long before we are rational ones, and that fact reveals everything from our earliest evolutionary victories to our twenty-first-century skirmishes with misinformation.
Our Cooperative Superpower
Evolution chose story as its cooperative superpower.
Anthropologists, cognitive scientists, and storytellers alike now argue that language itself probably emerged to let us swap tales about what mattered for survival: threats, alliances, and opportunities. Will Storr describes the consensus in his book ‘A Story is a deal”: “It’s believed that language evolved to allow us to tell stories, and that these stories granted us the ability to behave with extremely high levels of cooperation.” The moment early humans could turn isolated observations into a shared narrative, they ceased to be lone apes and began functioning as what biologists call a “superorganism.” Shared stories aligned attention, intentions, and emotions, turning scattered foragers into small bands capable of coordinated hunts, mutual defense, and eventually the construction of whole cultures. It laid the groundwork for the success of our species.
Wired for Narrative
Modern neuroscience shows that our brains still treat story as the default operating system. When we listen to or read a compelling narrative, cascades of cortisol, oxytocin, and dopamine flood the bloodstream, enhancing focus, empathy, and memory. In experimental settings this “neural coupling” means that the storyteller’s brain activity syncs with that of listeners, letting separate minds simulate a single experience. “Hormones such as cortisol, oxytocin, and dopamine are released… causing the same parts of our brains to be used as the speaker is using.” Stories literally wire us together.
That wiring is visible even in early childhood. By about four years old, children master a theory of mind and become, as Storr notes in his book ‘The science of storytelling’, “story-ready; equipped to understand the logic of narrative.” From that point on, the brain insists on arranging reality into chains of cause and effect with identifiable protagonists and obstacles. Emotion is the compass. Storytelling is then feelings translated into sequence.
Where the Wiring Goes Wrong
Because our neurons privilege narrative, memory itself behaves like an editor obsessed with coherence. We are drawn to finished tales and intolerant of dangling threads. Researchers at the University of Western Australia found that once a vivid story lodges, even when listeners learn that it is false, “it’s hard for our memories to let it go.” The brain prefers a tidy but inaccurate chronicle to an untidy truth. For the storyteller fighting for nuance, this is the engine to fight against. It is the cognitive wiring that makes a simplistic, misleading headline more "sticky" than a carefully reported, complex story. Add to this the discovery that we “re-script” our autobiographical past to make ourselves moral and competent protagonists - and you begin to see why evidence alone seldom rearranges convictions.
Once a preferred plotline sets in, the brain looks for more evidence to confirm it - confirmation bias - retrieving confirmatory detail and deleting dissonance. Basically, if you got a belief, your brain will search for evidence to back it up. Add social media’s infinite scroll and algorithmic amplification, the tendency for drama and extreme view, that sparks our negativity bias, and you have an ecosystem where our storytelling craft is actively devalued. The system doesn't reward integrity or nuance; it rewards the most emotionally charged narratives, true or false, turning the storytellers's thoughtful work into a strategic disadvantage.
So how do we apply this understanding back in our own work?
The primary tool is humility. Each of us is walking around inside a personal myth edited for maximum self-esteem and minimum contradiction. Our conviction that we are already seeing “how things really are” is the surest indicator that we are not. Recognizing ourselves as narrative beings means acknowledging that we inhabit a virtual reality partly of our own making.
It calls us to add a new set of tools to our Tool Chest: narrative intelligence. This is more than a buzzword; it is the core skill of the modern storyteller - the deliberate practice of noticing which stories are shaping a conversation, which identities they reinforce, and where the causal links are sound or spurious. Cultivating this skill involves stepping back from the urgency of the tale and asking: What goal does this narrative serve? Whose status does it elevate or threaten? What evidence would genuinely falsify it—and would its believers accept that evidence?
Rather than waging a facts-versus-fiction arms race, we must learn to tell better stories. In public health, climate action, and civic life, initiatives succeed when they embed reliable information inside emotionally resonant arcs. Personal testimony, concrete stakes, and recognizable protagonists engage the same neural pathways that gossip once did around Paleolithic campfires. The cure for weaponized stories is not storylessness but better stories - —ones that satisfy our appetite for meaning without sacrificing truth.
We must embrace the discipline of self-reflection. A storyteller, journalist or change-maker who cannot question their own blueprint cannot build anything true. Because your identity is the story you tell yourself, changing your mind can feel like a betrayal. Our work is to create the space—for ourselves and others—where that transformation is not a threat, but the highest form of integrity. The modern deluge of information tempts us to double down; deliberate pauses for curiosity disrupt that reflex.
To be a narrative being is not a weakness
All this might sound like an uphill battle. But to be a narrative being is not a weakness; it is a testament to humanity’s most powerful tool for cooperation and foresight. The same circuitry that spreads rumors also fuels art, science, and social progress. So, the awareness of our narrative nature converts vulnerability into leverage. The challenge is not to simply try to silence or fight false stories or move beyond it (that would not work, as we learned) but to become, individually and together, more skillful authors of the stories that will steer the next chapters of our shared realities.
About the author:
Simon Sticker // Documentary Storyteller
For two decades, Simon Sticker has pursued a mission to bridge diverse human experiences and foster empathy through the power of storytelling.
His professional journey has involved documenting a wide range of global issues, including the impacts of climate change, human rights struggles, the clashes of war, and the beauty of the human condition. In his work, he consistently strives to find new perspectives and tell stories that connect people to the world and to each other.
This mission currently finds its focus at [Dreamtown](http://www.dreamtown.ngo), where Simon leads global storytelling and innovation. In addition to this role, he pursues long-term independent projects exploring our shared humanity and our relationship with the planet. To extend his impact, he frequently consults and teaches organizations, media outlets, and journalism schools on the art of storytelling and how to navigate the evolving media landscape, empowering others to use narrative for positive change.
I’ve been using Hindenburg full-time for nearly a decade, and it’s the only audio software I’ve ever truly loved. It’s fast, stable, and beautifully intuitive—built for storytellers, not engineers. You can do precise micro-edits with ease, layer complex scenes quickly, and never get bogged down by bloated features you don’t need. Everything in Hindenburg is thoughtfully designed and genuinely useful. I couldn’t imagine making audio documentaries any other way.
Hindenburg PRO for storytellers
At Hindenburg, we're all about the story. Our tools are designed specifically with audio storytelling in mind, giving you everything you need to navigate and edit complex stories seamlessly. From Multitrack recording, transcriptions, clipboards, sound libraries and publish tools - Hindenburg Pro has you covered.
Did you know that Editors Keys produces a dedicated backlit keyboard for Hindenburg Pro? It includes all the essential shortcuts to help you streamline your workflow even more.
Interested? Check out more on the Editors Keys dedicated site
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