Creating Powerful Stories: What Scholars Can Learn from Filmmakers

Writing compelling and impactful academic articles is hard. For years, senior scholars and journal editors have urged us to combine rigorous research with vivid writing. Engaging the reader requires narratives that are convincing, reflexive and imaginative. Yet, the reality is that most academic papers are rather formulaic and far from engaging. Sure, we cite each other a lot, but do we really enjoy reading each other's work? And if we don't, are we surprised that practitioners and the public cannot be bothered to look at anything we produce? Well, the good news is that we can do a lot to make our writing more exciting.

As a mid-career academic, I decided three years ago to get into filmmaking alongside my academic work. I was curious about exploring film as a means of expression and storytelling. Through my work with film and other filmmakers, I have made a revealing observation: scholars and filmmakers often care about similar things. They seek to understand the human condition and they often dedicate their work to social and environmental causes. Also, both scholars and filmmakers rely in their work on strong narratives. They use powerful examples to tell a bigger story. Yet, good films seem more effective than most papers at telling stories of importance that entertain, while also making a lasting impression. This essay discusses how filmmakers do it, what scholars can learn from it, and what actions they can take to improve their ability to write engaging manuscripts.

The power of filmmaking seems obvious. For example, films can create a strong emotional impact through audio-visual storytelling. This is also why academics increasingly use visuals, such as photographs, in their articles to add emotional richness to their narratives. Yet, I have also learned about other – less obvious – ingredients of effective storytelling in film, which, in combination with audio and visuals, could inspire academic writing as well: multi-layered storytelling, the use of characters, and building stories from scenes. All three aspects may not only help better engage academic audiences, but also generate a wider impact with academic research, which I discuss at the end of this essay.

In sharing my thoughts and experiences, I will focus on three films I have been involved with as director and co-producer: ‘Finding Simon’, a short film, which I directed as part of a documentary film training and which I successfully submitted to several film festivals in 2021. The film is about a Brighton-based artist, his life and relationship with his work; ‘The Oldest Dance’ (executive producer), a short fictional film by Laura Girvent Alcalde about the role of consent in sex work; and ‘Finding Ubuntu’ (contributing producer), a documentary film by Annette King about the advocacy and community work of a Congolese refugee.

Yet, filmmakers approach multi-layered storytelling differently from scholars. Whereas scholars give primacy to theorizing empirical material, filmmakers give equal weight to the concrete and the abstract. This means that we should remember a story both for what happens in concrete terms and for the bigger ideas conveyed in the story. This helps viewers get invested in the story while making them think about it more deeply. When developing ‘Finding Simon’, I experienced first-hand the challenge of doing that effectively. At the concrete level, the film is about the artist Simon Mclennan and his work. But it is really about what connects us with our work and the work of others. And really really, at least to me, it is about the constant struggle of losing and finding ourselves in our life pursuits. In film, the more abstract dimensions of storytelling are often implicit. They ‘shine through’ the concrete story being told. Rather than telling the audience what to think, we want them to engage in their own thinking based on what they see and hear. As a result, stories can have multiple interpretations. When showing ‘Finding Simon’ to my friends I found that everybody had a different take on what the film is ‘really’ about. Some viewers saw in the film what I saw as the creator, but some had very different interpretations. First, I was a little irritated, but soon I realized that this openness can add value to the story and the viewer's experience, since it elicits conversations and helps viewers connect with stories in more personal ways.

One core technique filmmakers use to get viewers engaged in their own thinking while enjoying the film is the three-act structure of storytelling, which has been applied in case-based teaching (Lambert, 2023), and which could benefit academic writing as well. The first act sets up the main story elements – characters, locations, time and events that call main characters into action. The set-up often creates a feeling of suspense which draws audiences in and makes them care about what happens next. The second act focuses on key dilemmas and conflicts characters are confronted with and need to deal with. The third act gives some kind of resolution in which characters either succeed or fail to accomplish what they want. Based on this principle, in ‘Finding Simon’ we first get introduced to Simon and his art in his home environment; then we follow Simon to various cafes he works in where he talks about how he manages but also struggles to see deeper meaning in his work; finally, we return to his home where Simon and I reflect on the need to lose and find ourselves as an ongoing journey.

But how can we effectively use multi-layered storytelling across multiple ‘acts’ in academic writing? I see applications particularly in qualitative, case-based studies. As Figure 1 shows, I encourage academic writers to start the findings section with the set-up of the empirical story, mainly by introducing characters, locations, time markers and perhaps a troubling situation characters find themselves in to get readers invested. Authors could do that in the form of a vignette or in the main text. Next, authors should describe core interactions, processes and dilemmas – to share what the empirical story is about – and elaborate on key mechanisms and dynamics – to uncover what it is really about. The findings section could end with a ‘resolution’ that reveals what happens or could happen to the main characters in the empirical story. In the discussion section authors could then elaborate what the story is really really about in terms of fundamental theoretical insights, which may inspire follow-up research questions.

Next, I will discuss in more detail how scholars can flesh out a multi-layered story. Based on my own work in film, I will focus on the role of characters and scenes.

Filmmakers ensure that viewers care about stories by building up interesting characters viewers can identify with or at least emotionally respond to. As an academic, this approach was initially foreign to me, since I thought academic writing was mostly driven by topics rather than characters. However, I now see that a character focus can make academic writing more powerful, and I call on academic writers to try this approach.

First, I have learned that characters give audiences access to complex questions and distant worlds. This is because, by identifying with characters, audiences can appreciate various life challenges that would otherwise not be immediately relevant to them. In ‘Finding Simon’, the character of Simon is not only interesting in his own right but serves as a vehicle for audiences to ask fundamental questions about the purpose and identity-building effects of creative pursuits. My other films additionally use characters to help audiences access distant worlds and appreciate complex questions within them. For example, ‘The Oldest Dance’ follows the fictional character of Sabine, a sex worker, who is confronted daily with the difficulty of negotiating with her clients the boundaries of what she is willing to do. Her struggles give audiences access to a rather hidden world, paid sex work, and help them sympathize with the immense difficulties of navigating power dynamics in this world. ‘Finding Ubuntu’ showcases, based on the story of Congolese refugee Maick Mutej, how people leading ordinary lives can become advocates of human rights, transforming their own lives and the lives of others. Maick's story also helps audiences understand how certain norms and values – here: the Ubuntu philosophy ‘I am because we are’ – can empower individuals to grow into leadership roles in their communities.

Second, in filmmaking, I have found that character-based storytelling helps reflect on your own role and interest as an observer and storyteller. When making ‘Finding Simon’, I realized that the film is as much about Simon as it is about myself and my own search for meaning and identity in life. While I first disregarded this aspect as less relevant, I soon discovered from hearing other people's feedback that the interaction between Simon and myself as the storyteller is what makes the film particularly interesting. Consequently, I decided to turn myself much more into a protagonist of my own film, for example by having Simon ask me questions rather than just answer mine. As a result, ‘Finding Simon’ became a dialogic exploration of how we connect as humans. Figure 2 shows how Simon playfully interacts with me behind the camera, making me a character of the scene. Such moments make subjectivity transparent and invite audiences to ‘enter the scene’ as characters with their own perspectives.

Similarly, in the film ‘The Oldest Dance’, the audience learns about the sex worker Sabine through Jane, who is an ‘audience character’ observing Sabine's interactions with clients on the street. Through Jane, audiences can build a relationship with Sabine and her struggles. In the film script, Jane asks herself ‘Every day, I see her. And every day, I wonder. How has her life been?’. Jane ignites the active observer in all of us. Perhaps we have seen sex workers in our neighbourhoods, wondering how they got into this world and how they cope with it.

So, how can scholars effectively adopt a character-based storytelling approach? A character focus not only helps readers get invested in empirical stories, but also aligns well with the multi-layered, three-act story structure introduced above. In fact, a character-driven story could even frame the entire empirical findings section – opening with the introduction of one or two main protagonists in their specific settings (first act); then elaborating on key challenges they face (second act); and finishing with how they resolve them (third act) (see Figure 1). Next, I explain based on examples in my own work how character-based storytelling can be used.

The early introduction of key protagonists and their challenges helps readers care about what is happening and sustain their attention throughout the empirical section. For example, in one study, we introduce an agrarian expert at a development agency who struggles to get a complex development project off the ground and who finds creative ways to work with another expert at a private company to get it done. This kick-off story is a teaser for the main subject of the paper – the facilitating role of informal networks in cross-sector development partnerships (Manning and von Hagen, 2010). In another study, my co-author and I use the story of a Ugandan entrepreneur and her journey of becoming an ambassador of female entrepreneurship through a fellowship programme to illustrate how new impact-oriented support infrastructures can shape business models and entrepreneurial identities (Manning and Vavilov, 2023). Though most readers may not be familiar with the specific situation facing the protagonists in each story, they can sympathize with their journey which brings an unknown empirical context to life.

Authors can follow up on a character-based introduction either with a more conventional empirical analysis of processes and interactions, or an analysis that stays close to the views and experiences of particular protagonists while also making theoretical interpretations. For the latter, authors may use in vivo coding to mobilize the language of protagonists to invoke a bigger story without detaching it from the data. For example, protagonists might use certain metaphors to describe their situation, which could become guiding metaphors in capturing what many actors in similar situations go through. However, unlike films, credible empirical research needs to also move beyond individual experiences, because we sell the value of academic work in part based on the generalizable patterns we detect. To balance this tension, authors could move back and forth between repeat references to individual stories and more abstract categorizations of processes and practices, based on broader evidence.

In addition, character-based storytelling can help us reflect on our own role as scholars and observers. Anthropology and feminist research have integrated reflexivity into research methodologies for some time. Following the example of film, one way we can bring reflexivity to life is by turning ourselves as authors into ‘characters’ of our own study. Like I did in ‘Finding Simon’, we could use dialogue samples rather than just quotes from interviewed people to reveal our own motivations and reflections as scholars. For example, many social movement scholars care deeply about the subjects they study. Why not make this more explicit by sharing our own story and some of our conversations with interview partners? Sharing what moves us to study or see things in certain ways can engage readers at a more personal level. For example, when I learned from Albert Hirschman that his own decision to leave Nazi Germany as a Jew inspired him to write his famous book ‘Exit, Voice, and Loyalty’, this made his framework more powerful and relatable for me.

A word of caution though: making academic writing more character-driven is not always appropriate. For example, individual level data may not be available or irrelevant for the subject matter. Also, focusing on characters, including oneself as an author, may raise confidentiality issues. However, if needed, we can make characters non-identifiable and still ‘use’ them to open doors to important insights and a complex empirical world.

Another technique in film to bring multi-layered stories to life are scenes. Scenes are relatively self-contained ‘story beats’ that carry the story forward. They typically involve protagonists interacting in a particular location. Well-written scenes reveal important aspects of a story's characters, their relationships and the world they operate in. I believe that scenes could also make academic writing more memorable.

One interesting property of scenes is that they are self-contained yet embedded in a larger narrative. To achieve this, filmmakers often use distinct styles to separate different types of scenes while also connecting them into sub-narratives. For example, in ‘Finding Ubuntu’, real-life footage shows the current life of the protagonist, whereas animations depict his painful memories as a refugee. Similarly, in ‘The Oldest Dance’, naturalistic street scenes show the initial contact between sex worker and clients, whereas more metaphorical tango dance scenes illustrate interactions between them in the bedroom (see Figure 3).

Another related benefit of scenes-based storytelling is the ability to repeat scenes in variation to expand and deepen the story. The film ‘The Oldest Dance’ makes effective use of this technique by repeating the two types of scenes – street scenes and tango scenes – with different participants and different interaction dynamics. Each variation explores how changes in the main protagonist's – the sex worker's – emotional experience of the situation changes her interactions. Based on an early script version, I remember discussions with the director about whether or how these interactions should escalate from one scene variation to the next. This is when I realized the power of scenes variations in expanding a narrative.

How can academic writers use scenes-based storytelling to improve their manuscripts? One way is to use memorable scenes – either as separate vignettes or directly in the text – to showcase particular dynamics or practices. Consider for example how Weick (1979) uses a vivid scene to illustrate effective and ecologically sustainable decision-making: to determine where to hunt on a given day, the members of the Naskapi tribe in Labrador hold Caribou bones over a fire until they crack. Wherever the cracks point they hunt, which has worked out very well over time. Or consider the famous study ‘Banana time’ by Roy (1959/60) which effectively uses scenes to show how assembly workers ‘resist’ monotonous work – by celebrating breaks, or by joking around while working. In fact, when I first read this study many years ago, I imagined it as a film – perhaps thanks to the clever use of scenes-based storytelling. This study is also a good example of effective in vivo coding as it amplifies the voices of the protagonists. Every day the workers announce breaks by the fruits they are about to eat – ‘banana time’, ‘peach time’, etc. Roy uses this in vivo code to exemplify how workers re-claim a sense of agency within an alienating workplace.

I also encourage academic writers to use scenes to explore interactions, processes or mechanisms with variation. Authors could design scene variations to showcase how the presence or absence of factors, or changes in characteristics of context or protagonists, can make a difference in interactions. For example, process or longitudinal studies at the individual or team level could include before-after scenes vignettes to highlight how changes in culture and organizational structure change how individuals or teams interact. Using supporting visual representations to compare scenes may contribute to a holistic understanding of how interactions can play out in changing contexts.

In this essay I have outlined how we can make academic writing more exciting by balancing theoretical abstraction with character-driven and scenes-based storytelling. These techniques help better engage the reader, make academic work more memorable and, ultimately, help reach a wider audience. Doing this effectively however needs us to create an environment that encourages academic writers to experiment with new storytelling techniques.

First, journal editors should require empirical manuscripts to make empirical stories more exciting, for example by using character or scenes vignettes, by including dialogue samples, or by applying a three-act structure. Accordingly, editors should ask reviewers to assess how engaging and memorable they find the empirical section. Papers with exceptionally vivid empirical stories should be awarded regularly. Journals could also introduce a ‘Readers react’ section, in which readers can share their thoughts and interpretations of the empirical story presented. Finally, editors should allow the optional addition of a foreword in which authors can make their personal motivations and reflections explicit.

Second, business schools should consider making powerful empirical storytelling part of the training of PhD students and junior faculty. Such training could include sessions with filmmakers and other storytellers sharing their techniques and experiences. Providing such trainings will not only help make academics more effective writers, but also help them reach wider audiences. This is because character-driven and scenes-based storytelling is an excellent vehicle for turning research into teaching materials and for generating a wider impact in society. For example, we are currently using the story of the character Maick in the film ‘Finding Ubuntu’ to share insights on community-based leadership and empowerment with various communities and corporations as part of an impact campaign (see Figure 4). We can similarly use a character approach to make our research accessible to wider audiences.

And this brings me finally back to why I started filmmaking in the first place: to better reach audiences that we academics often fail to engage. But maybe we academics can make our work more exciting and accessible – not just for ourselves, but also for students and practitioners – by becoming better storytellers. Because: ‘There is nothing in the world more powerful than a good story’ (Lord Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones, Final Episode).