It is nearly mid-year review season! How many of you are staring at massive data sets, and trying to choose between AI tools to help you create that perfect infographic or corporate story? How many of you are wondering how you went from presenting data to creating narrative arcs?

The storytelling fatigue is real. Whether it is clicking through a slide deck or on that “…more” button on a LinkedIn post, the act more or less results in immediate eye-rolling.

Storytelling is a powerful tool. But its effectiveness is compromised when the focus shifts from achieving results to merely perfecting the narrative process. It has to be about how you present data for impact. Right?

I think it’s a little bit like “brevity.”

No, I don’t mean that we should all wax 5,000-word eloquent all the time. I just believe that brevity is not the only correct solution to all communication problems. An over-focus on it only leads to abstraction. Brevity is a means to give direction, pique interest, and start conversations—it invites the audience in. It should not be the destination.

Brevity and Storytelling are both tools and not the goal.

Storytelling is the same. It’s a means to an end, not the end itself. And sometimes you need a little more than the “recommended minimum” to establish context and make connections. If a piece of content achieves the strategic results it is aiming for, its length shouldn’t matter. But this comes with a caveat: you have to get that balance between information and insight exactly right. And to achieve this balance, you need to establish an information hierarchy.

Brevity catches the eye; the structural depth of a good story holds the intellect.

In my own practice, I treat content failure not as a length problem, but as a structural bottleneck. This means I look for layers in the data I’m working with instead of focusing on the word count. My workflow relies on splitting information into three distinct tiers:

I. The Compass

This is the single, undeniable macro-truth of the entire piece. It is the headline, the first two lines above the fold, or the single sentence at the top of an executive slide. It has one job: to give immediate direction and answer the question, “Why are we looking at this right now?” Believe me when I say, the answer to this is never “because, mid-year review.”

II. The Anchor

This is the data, the raw evidence. This does not mean dumping every single metric you tracked onto the slide. Instead, it is a strictly curated data set that tethers your macro-truth to reality. If a data point doesn’t explicitly prove or disprove the Compass statement, it gets moved to the appendix.

III. The Deck

The deck is the story—the connective tissue—that explains why the data looks the way it does. It tells you what the strategic implications of the previous two are for the second half of the year, or the future. This is the platform where narrative earns its keep. It’s not fluffy storytelling with an emotional element; it is operational context.

As long as you find that balance between information and insight, length will not matter.

The world isn’t suffering from a lack of short paragraphs or bulleted lists. Quite the opposite, in fact. There is a near-epidemic of perfectly formatted, highly readable narratives that fail to get the point across because of a lack of depth.

The key is to recalibrate your process to “building an information hierarchy.” When the structural depth matches the weight of your ideas, you automatically deliver insight without overwhelming the room.

If you’re looking to sharpen your strategic communication for the second half of the year, reach out to design a workflow that works for you and your team.


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