A Scene from the Harris Household

When my kids were little, movie night was a sacred ritual (still is). Popcorn in mismatched bowls, everyone in pajamas, the lights low, and a well-worn DVD spinning in the player.

We had our rotation: The films they loved and the ones I was willing to watch 57 times without losing my mind. Right there at the top of the list was Finding Nemo.

Every time we queued it up, my kids would ask me why I liked it so much.

“Because it’s about a dad who learns his little guy can do big things,” I’d tell them.

They’d roll their eyes. “Dad, Marlin’s not even the main character. It’s not called Finding Marlin.”

Technically, they’re right. But for me, the story has always been personal. I watch it wearing Marlin’s scales (fish don’t wear shoes, duh).

It’s a story about fear, love, and letting go. And every time we watched it together, we were cementing a shared understanding of what it means to trust, to grow, and to believe in someone.

Years later, those moments still surface in conversations with my now-teenagers. That moral has followed us, and I still point to Nemo occasionally when one of them does a “big thing.”

And it’s a reminder of something bigger: Story is more than entertainment. Story is the human brain’s operating system for making meaning.

Why Story Works on Us

There’s a common misconception that story is “nice to have.” The extra seasoning that makes communication more palatable. This is wrong. Story isn’t the garnish. It’s the main ingredient.

When you tell someone a fact, you’re giving them a puzzle piece.

When you tell them a story, you’re showing them the whole picture, and inviting them inside it.

Why? Because our brains evolved to think in narrative.

Long before spreadsheets and slide decks, there was the campfire. We passed down what mattered (where the water is, which plants heal which ailments, who to trust) through story. If you failed at telling a story well, someone else might fail at staying alive. That’s how critical it was.

Neuroscientists have shown that stories light up more of the brain than facts alone. Facts activate the language center. Stories activate sensory and emotional regions too. These are the parts of your brain that feel and imagine, not just process language.

In other words: story recruits more of you.

Story as the Brain’s “Meaning-Making Engine”

Entertainment is just a side effect of story. The real function? Meaning-making.

Think about it: every story you love has a moral baked in. A “truth” the storyteller wants you to carry away.

• Aesop’s Fables give us short, sharp moral instruction.

• Pixar provides emotional truths wrapped in character-driven plotlines.

• Jurassic Park is a template for how humans relate to the rest of nature.

These morals aren’t just told to us. They’re experienced. And when you experience something, even in your imagination, your brain treats it as practice.

You don’t just hear “a little guy can do big things.” You feel what it’s like to be underestimated. You feel the risk of leaving the reef. You feel the relief of finding your way back.

This is why you can still remember the lessons of a movie you saw 20 years ago but can’t remember the bullet points from last week’s all-hands meeting.

Storytelling at Work

The professional world gets it wrong: we treat story like decoration.

In business, people commonly say: “Let’s lead with the data, then add a quick story to make it engaging.”

It’s… backwards.

The story is the frame that tells people why the data matters. Without story, your audience is left to stare at puzzle pieces with no idea what picture they make.

In leadership, especially, this matters. Your team isn’t just listening for what to do. They’re listening for why it matters, and whether they see themselves in that “why.”

A leader without story is like a chef without a recipe. You can cook all day, but you won’t end up with a meal.

The Pixar Principle: Truth First, Then Everything Else

One of the reasons Finding Nemo works so well is that Pixar’s founding team (Ed Catmull, John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton) built the company on a simple principle:

Put the story first.

Before animation, before effects, before box office projections, they asked, “What truth are we trying to tell?”

That truth guided everything: character design, plot structure, even which scenes were cut.

In leadership, it’s the equivalent of starting every initiative with:

1. What truth about our customers, our employees, or our market are we trying to communicate?

2. How will we bring that truth to life in a way that builds belief?

Answer those questions, and your vision becomes something people live with, not just hear once.

How Leaders Use Story as a Meaning-Maker

Here are five ways to make story your communication engine:

1. Start with the moral, not the message.

Before you draft a memo, email or a presentation, ask: What’s the enduring truth I want people to walk away with? Build everything around that.

2. Use character as the audience’s entry point.

In Finding Nemo, you can enter through Marlin (the fearful parent), Nemo (the underestimated kid), or Dory (the unpredictable friend). At work, the “character” might be a customer, a colleague, or even your past self.

3. Give them stakes.

A story without stakes is a bedtime lullaby. What’s at risk if nothing changes? What’s possible if it does? Let people feel that tension, because we need the salt to taste the sweet.

4. Connect it to the present moment.

The best stories resonate right now. Tie your narrative to the decisions, pressures, and opportunities your audience is facing today.

5. Let the audience finish the story.

Leave space for people to see themselves in the outcome. Don’t over-explain the moral. When they arrive at it themselves, that’s when it sticks.

This Matters Now as Much as Ever

We’re in an era drowning in information and starving for meaning. Every meeting, inbox, and feed is full of data points. Very few of them connect to a bigger picture.

Story is the connection. It’s the difference between an organization that’s busy and one that’s aligned.

The moral of Finding Nemo isn’t just for kids. It’s for leaders: if you want your people to rise to the occasion, you have to believe they can, and show them the story of someone who did.

When you do, you’re not just entertaining. You’re rewiring how they see themselves and what they believe is possible.

Yes, my kids still tease me about loving Finding Nemo. But I suspect, years from now, when they’re facing a moment that feels too big for them, they’ll remember a little clownfish, and a dad who believed he could do big things.

That’s the quiet, lasting work of story. It makes meaning. It changes what we think is possible. And if you’re a leader, that’s not a garnish. It’s your main course.

🔥 Hi, I’m Eric, and every week, I share insights, observations and tools so you can ditch decks and light a fire in your high-stakes presentations. If you like what you see here, follow me on LinkedIn.