Why great lawyers are storytellers.

Imagine you’re reading a short story or listening to a podcast.?Will it grab your attention if it begins, “Publishing House X, through Author John Doe, respectfully asks that you read this story (‘the Story’) that will give you some information about something”??Will the open-mic storyteller keep you engaged if she detours down oral alleys that aren’t related to the tale??Probably not.?But lawyers often put their audiences—judges and juries—to sleep by taking those approaches.?It seems we forgot how to tell an engaging story.??

Legal writing should tell a story.?Like everyone, judges have limited attention spans.?And many lack law clerks, so they’re reading everything themselves.?A direct story is more engaging and easier to follow than a meandering one.?Choosing longer, obscure words that we think sound more educated or distinguished almost never helps tell a direct story.?Don’t forget the notion of a picture being worth 1,000 words, too.?A map, diagram, organizational chart, or timeline almost always helps your reader understand the story.?Trying to sound like a lawyer guarantees we’re not telling direct stories.?A better approach is to try to sound like a journalist, particularly one with a good editor.??

Trial work is storytelling, particularly when 8 or 12 jurors know nothing about your case.?It isn’t to show how smart you are or your vocabulary’s breadth.?Instead, it’s distilling years of facts and discovery, and maybe thousands or millions of documents, into an engaging and understandable story.?And the jury plays a part in your story, kind of like a Greek chorus.?In Arizona, the jury may ask questions, which may guide you about your story’s holes.?The jury will complete your story (at least at trial); consider how the instructions and verdict form mold that story’s end.?

“I get it, James—tell a story.?But what is something practical to take away?”?Editing.?Cutting.?As lawyers, we’ve lived with a case for years.?We know everything about it.?Resist the urge to share everything with your judge or jury.?The newspaper’s editor cuts and clarifies.?A book publisher tells the author to remove things that don’t advance the story.?Film lands on the cutting room floor because the scenes add length without substance.?We lawyers could use the same help sometimes.??

Don’t fill your summary judgment motion with the irrelevant minutia of how your opponent delayed discovery (but you eventually obtained the information).?Don’t describe how opposing counsel was late to two depositions a year ago or made a mistake serving a subpoena three months ago.?It doesn’t matter.?It doesn’t tell your summary judgment story.?It only confuses your reader or distracts from more important information.??

The same goes for trial.?Time and juror attention spans are precious.?Don’t use your case to introduce the equivalent of mean Tweets.?Those might give you or your client some internal satisfaction, but they don’t help the jury do their job.?Imagine them deliberating: “The defense lawyer kept asking questions about ‘disclosure’ and ‘26.1’.?I don’t see that in our final instructions.?Do you?”??????????

Lawyers don’t write or speak without guardrails, of course.?We must tell our stories with admissible evidence.?We can’t create facts to plug a hole like a fiction writer.?We have ethical obligations.?We have page and time limits.?The elements of claims or defenses drive what our stories will include.?All true.?But those realities don’t mean we aren’t telling stories.?They only mean we must tell our stories more carefully.???