The Natural Laws of Story: Master the Art and Science of Engaging Narratives

Why Does Storytelling Matter?

We’re all storytellers; we tell stories in our everyday lives, sometimes without even realizing it. Whether you’re sharing vacation tales with friends or writing a novel, your narrative follows the same fundamental rules. By understanding and applying the natural laws of storytelling, you’ll wield more power than you might imagine.

Mightier than the Sword

Since the dawn of Homo sapiens, we’ve faced a problem: Compared to other species, we’re not that tough. We lack long teeth or claws to defend ourselves, can’t outrun the fastest predators, don’t have wings, and our swimming abilities are lackluster. To top it all off, Mother Nature didn’t provide us with a cozy fur coat, leaving us to shiver in the cold.

Yet, despite these limitations, Homo sapiens became the dominant species on the planet long before modern technology. Our superpower? Not just the size of our brains—whales and elephants have bigger ones. Our ability to make tools? Chimpanzees, gorillas, sea otters, dolphins, crows, and octopuses can do that too.

Our greatest superpower lies in our social abilities. They drive us to communicate, cooperate, and build connections with others. The phenomenal success of our species would be impossible without them. Of particular importance is the cognitive skill known as theory of mind, our ability to infer the thoughts, feelings, intentions, and desires of others. Without empathy, emotional intelligence, and theory of mind, we might still cooperate, but forming deep, meaningful connections would be nearly impossible.

Without these social abilities, there would be no culture or nations as we know them. Nations rely on shared narratives that create a sense of collective identity. Founding stories are obvious examples: Rome had the legend of Romulus and Remus, while the United States has stories about its founding fathers and the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Stories are magnets for our minds. We grow up with them, crave them, and absorb them from a young age. We use them for entertainment and education, to help form our identity, and to understand our place in the world and the universe.

How do we recognize a great story? Is it about themes, characters, or plot logic? The best stories command our attention and leave a lasting impression. This is particularly important in the digital era, where we’re constantly exposed to information overload. Great stories draw us into their world and never let go. They continue to influence us long after the last page or the rolling credits. They grow on us, becoming a part of us. They create shared experiences, allowing us to build bridges with others and form communities. Behind their magic lies a science—something we can study, understand, and master.

Stories primarily appeal to our emotions. They rely on our innate social abilities—such as empathy, emotional intelligence, and theory of mind—to produce their effect. They engage not only the conscious but also the unconscious layers of our psyche. They stir the emotional magma simmering in the depths of our minds, touching our deepest longings and terrors.

Human psychology is complex and paradoxical. Our brains always crave something; we live in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction. We want things we don’t have, and as soon as we reach one goal, another beckons. The more inaccessible the goal, the more alluring it seems.

This inherent restlessness drives us to act, explore, and innovate, fueling progress. Yet it also creates frustration and conflict—both with the external world and within ourselves. Conflict, dilemmas, and drama fuel our stories.

Being a storyteller is part of a tradition that stretches back to the origins of civilization. Our distant ancestors shared tales orally or drew them on cave walls tens of thousands of years ago. What explains the enduring appeal of stories? Some say stories help us make sense of our messy lives and bring order to the chaos around us. Are they nothing more than fairy tales we tell ourselves to cope with harsh realities? Some say they’re mere entertainment; others call them propaganda or tools for deceit and manipulation. It’s just a narrative, they say. It’s not real. It’s a lie.

Science reveals that stories are essential for organizing and communicating information. The most enduring stories aren’t lies; on the contrary, they are powerful tools for seeking truth. Curiosity drives our quest for truth, and deep down, we know there’s always something to learn from a good story—something we can apply to overcome life’s challenges.

Some stories have such universal appeal that they cross cultural boundaries and endure through the ages. Concepts like chivalry and the Grail are classic examples. The Grail has no historical basis; not a shred of empirical evidence supports the existence of such an object. It’s a literary invention we can trace back to Chrétien de Troyes, yet many have believed in its reality.

Likewise, we owe the concept of chivalry to a handful of medieval authors. At that time, bands of impoverished nobles roamed Europe, spreading chaos. To address the problem, the Catholic Church turned to a weapon mightier than the sword: the power of storytelling. By supporting tales that promoted ideals of honor, bravery, and loyalty, the Church aimed to inspire a code of conduct among knights. The enduring appeal of Arthurian tales demonstrates the potency of this strategy. While a real figure may have inspired these tales, the stories of King Arthur and his knights owe little to historical fact.

Despite the importance of stories, the fundamental rules of storytelling remain a mystery, even to those who engage in it professionally. This may be because the ability to tell a compelling narrative is often seen as an innate talent rather than a skillset. Yet talent accounts for only a small part of any author’s success. Storytelling can be studied, learned, and mastered.

Don’t Fall for Storytelling Myths

Do you know what a cargo cult is?

Once upon a time, on the lush tropical islands of Melanesia, a tribe of islanders who had never seen cargo planes, radios, or other technological marvels encountered strange flying objects. These objects arrived with much noise and brought goods that seemed magical to the locals. They believed these Western goods were gifts from the gods.

By mimicking the behavior of the Westerners, the locals tried to attract more cargo to their islands. They built mock planes, airports, radios, and other infrastructure using native materials, and performed rituals. Yet, despite their efforts, the cargo planes didn’t return. The gods refused to cooperate. What were the cultists doing wrong? Maybe their wooden planes and radios lacked something essential?

Magical thinking isn’t limited to preindustrial cultures suddenly exposed to advanced technology. In the industrialized world, we see examples of irrational thinking in surprising areas, such as business and politics.

The creative writing world is also plagued by beliefs not rooted in facts. Some believe they can achieve fortune and fame by imitating bestselling authors, mimicking their writing styles, or even adopting their daily routines. Others strictly follow the arbitrary rules set by storytelling theorists and overzealous editors.

These cultists follow the rules religiously, yet their stories flop. They throw up their hands in frustration, proclaim the death of literature, and complain that no one cares about books anymore. In doing so, they reveal their ignorance, as the storytelling business is thriving—perhaps more than ever.

Misguided thinking rooted in a poor understanding of storytelling principles also explains box office flops. Even some big-budget movies, though not necessarily financial failures, didn’t live up to the hype for the same reason. Experienced filmmakers, too, can make baffling mistakes, as we’ve seen with certain Star Wars movies and TV shows.

Many writing and storytelling experts focus on the same superficial advice: use a three- or five-act structure, write in active voice, avoid adverbs, kill your darlings, and so on. But is there any empirical evidence that strict adherence to these rules leads to better outcomes for writers? You can craft a story that follows all the academic rules and genre conventions, yet it will fail if it doesn’t engage the audience emotionally.

How to achieve that emotional engagement is the main topic of this guidebook.

Art, Science, or Both?

The inaccuracy of weather forecasts never ceases to amaze me. We have satellites, computers, and AI, yet we’re still left guessing whether to pack an umbrella for a trip. Nevertheless, no one doubts that climatology is a science.

Why shouldn’t we regard storytelling the same way? We can’t predict with certainty the success of a book, movie, or TV show, but that doesn’t mean the scientific study of storytelling is useless.

Some might argue that storytelling is an art form, not a science. Yet abundant empirical evidence from various fields shows that stories do follow rules—rules that emerged naturally, not as the result of societal choice or conscious decision. Myths and legends are among the earliest stories that have survived to the present day. In his seminal work The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell revealed storytelling motifs that transcend cultural and temporal boundaries.

Despite the importance of stories and extensive research in narratology, no unifying theory explains why certain narratives prove more influential and enduring than others. Formulating the natural laws of storytelling is a herculean task, given the variety of narratives and the complexity of human psychology. However, I believe this endeavor is worth pursuing.

The primary goal of this guidebook is to introduce new approaches to building compelling story arcs based on cutting-edge research in neuroscience, experimental psychology, narratology, and other relevant disciplines. You might fear that knowledge of the scientific principles of storytelling could inhibit your creativity. After all, creativity involves inspiration, spontaneity, intuition, and a willingness to break free from the constraints of logic.

Yet understanding the science of storytelling won’t stifle your creativity, nor will it diminish your sense of wonder. My background in biology didn’t destroy my admiration for nature. On the contrary, scientific knowledge gave me a deeper appreciation of ecosystems and the delicate balance that sustains them.

Similarly, my knowledge of narratology not only provided me with a greater insight into how stories work but also heightened my appreciation for them. It made me a more confident and successful writer, and any author can benefit from this knowledge as I did.

By understanding the psychological triggers that make stories engaging, you can better tailor your narratives to resonate with your intended audience. You can learn to evoke emotions, build empathy, and create a sense of connection with readers. A solid grasp of the natural laws of storytelling can also help you overcome creative blocks. Understanding the psychology of creativity will allow you to identify factors that hinder your creative flow and develop strategies to overcome them. When something in your story doesn’t work, your knowledge will help you diagnose the problem and find effective solutions.

Knowledge of the scientific principles of storytelling isn’t a threat to creativity—it’s a powerful tool to enhance it. By understanding how stories work and what makes them effective, you will become a more confident and successful storyteller.

Part One:

The Science of Story

01

What’s a Story and Why Do We Tell Them?

The tribe gathered around the fire, their faces illuminated by its flickering light. Flames cast eerie, shifting shadows across the cave walls. Outside, the night sky was dark and stormy, with lightning flashing and thunder rumbling in the distance.

The tribe elder cleared his throat. Do not fear lightning and thunder. His deep voice filled the cave, and the tribe members leaned in, eager to hear the tale. "Long ago, before the dawn of time, lived