- Tension: Brands want to empower customer voices, but fear losing control of their story in the process.
- Noise: Oversimplified advice equates storybuilding with handing over the mic, ignoring the need for thoughtful structure and boundaries.
- Direct Message: Storybuilding succeeds when brands balance authorship and audience, shaping flexible narratives that evolve through co-creation, not chaos.
To learn more about our editorial approach, explore The Direct Message methodology.
This article was originally published in early 2017 and was last updated on June 12, 2025.
Building castles together
At first glance, the idea of letting your customers shape your brand story sounds like marketing magic. What better way to boost engagement than to make people feel like protagonists in your narrative? And yet, as any writer will tell you, too many characters without a plot ends in confusion—not connection.
This is the central tension behind the rise of “storybuilding,” a term that surfaced at Advertising Week in New York with equal parts optimism and ambiguity. Unlike traditional storytelling, where brands shape polished arcs and deliver finished messages, storybuilding invites consumers to step inside the narrative—sometimes literally. It’s co-creation with an audience that doesn’t just receive but replies, edits, and often redirects.
But that openness also stirs discomfort. Many marketers worry that if they let go of the reins, they’ll lose not only their message but their meaning. That anxiety is valid—but not inevitable.
In the resilience workshops I run across Ireland, I’ve often seen people paralyzed not by change itself, but by the lack of structure within change. The same applies here. Storybuilding, at its best, is not a free-for-all—it’s a shared creative act grounded in intention, feedback, and flexibility.
Where connection collides with control
The promise of storybuilding lies in its values: inclusion, authenticity, responsiveness. It invites customers to take part in something bigger than a transaction. But this participatory ethos often runs headlong into another deeply held value—brand coherence.
Every brand wants to be loved for its values, yet tightly managed for its voice. This is the value collision at the heart of modern marketing: freedom versus framing.
Universal Republic Music’s Theda Sandiford put it bluntly: “Storybuilding anarchy” is a real risk. When brands pursue customer input without boundaries, they lose clarity. The story fragments. And worse—meaning gets hijacked by the loudest voices, not the truest ones.
At the same time, staying too scripted creates another problem: irrelevance. A rigid brand narrative can’t adapt to the real-time responses of the audience. It can’t evolve with cultural shifts or reflect lived experiences. It feels, in short, like it’s talking at us rather than with us.
What’s fascinating is how this mirrors something psychologists call cognitive dissonance reduction. When two values collide—say, autonomy and order—we instinctively pick one and downplay the other. But in doing so, we miss the opportunity to integrate.
The tension isn’t a problem to eliminate. It’s a paradox to manage. And that starts by letting go of extremes.
Why “just let them talk” misses the point
Somewhere along the way, the marketing conversation around storybuilding got flattened. Encouraging dialogue turned into a free pass for content anarchy. The more comments, shares, and mentions, the better—right?
Not quite.
Oversimplified takes have reduced storybuilding to a numbers game: more UGC, more traction, more buzz. But quantity alone can’t replace quality of interaction—or clarity of direction. Giving consumers the mic is one thing. Having something meaningful for them to build with is another.
Take Gawker’s Ray Wert’s insight: storybuilding requires “equal opportunities for content ownership” and mechanisms to keep the best conversations visible. This isn’t passive listening. It’s curated amplification. That takes work, structure, and discernment.
Psychological research backs this up. In a 2020 European study on social identity and brand loyalty, researchers found that people feel more attached to brands when they see themselves reflected in brand narratives and when those narratives offer consistency and coherence. It’s not either/or—it’s both/and.
When translating research into practical applications, I often use a micro-habit known as reflective anchoring: before posting or responding, pause to ask, “Does this strengthen the shared story—or scatter it?” Brands can adopt a version of this by building editorial filters that prioritize resonance over reaction.
The clarity that changes everything
Storybuilding thrives when brands offer structured spaces for customer input, balancing shared ownership with a clear, evolving narrative core.
Designing story spaces, not surrendering stories
If the brand is a castle, storybuilding isn’t about tearing down the walls—it’s about opening more doors. To do this effectively, brands must become architects of participation. That means three key things:
1. Provide narrative scaffolding
Start with a strong central message or theme that guides participation. Google’s Kevin Proudfoot said it best: “We’re always at our best when it’s about the people and what they’re doing.” But to show people in action, you need a story structure that can flex while still anchoring the brand’s values.
Campaigns should launch like open chapters—where the plotline invites consumer contributions but doesn’t abandon its throughline.
2. Curate and elevate with intention
Not all feedback carries equal weight. And that’s okay. As Williams from The Martin Agency pointed out, brands must actively decide what to spotlight, what to respond to, and what to filter out. This isn’t censorship—it’s stewardship.
Micro-practice: Use “narrative heat maps” (even informal ones) to track which ideas align with your brand’s purpose and which ones drift. This helps teams respond to feedback with clarity, not chaos.
3. Embrace dialogue as dynamic, not democratic
This is subtle but important. Dialogue doesn’t mean everyone gets an equal vote in every decision. It means everyone’s voice is welcomed, weighed, and integrated where meaningful. In practice, this means designing feedback loops that evolve—not dissolve—your brand identity.
A useful metaphor I often use in coaching: think of storybuilding like a group improv. One person starts the scene (“Yes, and…”), others build on it, and the energy shifts accordingly. But it only works when someone is gently guiding the rhythm.
Rewriting the story of storytelling
There’s a quiet revolution happening beneath all this. Brands are moving from being narrators to facilitators. Not giving up the story—but sharing the pen.
This isn’t easy. It means working in ambiguity, navigating tension, and inviting perspectives that might not align with your campaign calendar. But when done well, it creates brand loyalty that feels earned, not engineered.
In Europe, we’ve seen smaller heritage brands do this beautifully—like Lush, which invites ethical critiques and incorporates customer feedback into policy shifts. Or Innocent Drinks, whose playful voice thrives on conversational banter without losing its ethical anchor.
These are stories built with, not just for, their audience.
And that’s the quiet truth: storybuilding is less about storytelling technique and more about mindset. A mindset that welcomes participation, builds in adaptability, and above all, respects that customers aren’t extras in the brand’s movie—they’re co-directors.
Let them in. But build the set thoughtfully.
