Last month, I ran a LinkedIn poll asking folks to respond to this question: If you could lock a senior communications director in a room for 48 hours to solve ONE thing, what would it be?
I provided four options:
- Build your narrative framework;
- Create a crisis comms plan;
- Plan a campaign comms strategy; and
- Develop key comms playbooks.
Half the respondents chose playbooks.
The results surprised me. I would have chosen the narrative framework, because in my experience, that’s the piece that moves everything else forward. It’s foundational. Without it, you’re making tactical decisions without a strategic framework, and that makes every communications effort harder than it needs to be.
What the playbook choice reveals
But I think this playbook choice reveals something deeper. I love a good process document – they can be genuinely powerful. They’re an excellent tool for creating continuity when people leave an organization and new people arrive. The process of putting one together often surfaces gaps between how an organization thinks it operates and what’s actually happening behind the scenes. They give everyone the freedom to just get the work done without spinning on what the process needs to be.
If you’ve been operating in chaos, a playbook feels like relief.
Playbooks provide a very tangible measure of clarity amidst deeper work that can feel too abstract or slippery. The actual need many organizations have, though, is a clear understanding of themselves, of how they show up in the world, of how they articulate their why, and how all that connects with their audiences.
That need is a narrative framework, not a playbook.
How a narrative strengthened an event playbook
A few years ago, an organization brought me in to help support communications for their major fundraiser, which was already well down the road with its planning. The organization was raising money to fund new facilities at a camp that had partially burned down in a wildfire. They had booked a venue, gathered auction items, launched ticket sales, and secured a big-name keynote speaker.They had lots of logistics in play, many drawn from processes developed during past events. What they didn’t have was a narrative on which to hang any of it.
When I came on board, it took me a minute to convince them of the importance of an event narrative. At most nonprofits, events live with the Development team, and those folks are laser-focused on their dollar goals. They want the event to be beautiful, special, and fun, of course. But their overarching goal, and often processes, are built to guide fundraising.
Any good development team member knows, though, that the way to open wallets is through the heart, not the mind. And what’s better at opening a heart than an emotionally resonant narrative a prospective donor can get behind?
I built a three-act narrative that used that history as a launchpad. In Act 1, Preparing for Camp, we built anticipation the way kids feel it in the weeks and days before that drive to sleepaway camp. In Act 2, Around the Campfire, we wove a fireside tale of community-building, along with the whimsy that makes summer camp so joyful. And in Act 3, Deepening the Connection, we stepped away from the campfire carrying memories and stories of the relationships built there — the kind that stay with you long after the fire goes out.
The narrative brought the logistics to life, but also became the common thread for the entire program. We wove it through each speaker’s talking points, told it during the event’s heartstring-tugging film, and even put it to music during a campfire-style singalong at the close. The event raised more than its ambitious goal, and it wasn’t just because the playbook was good, it was because the playbook had a story underneath it.
Without narrative clarity, playbooks have limited shelf life
Playbooks built without that clarity underneath them have a very limited shelf life. They document how things work today, but they can’t guide an organization through whatever comes next. Playbooks that last and that are most effective are built on a clear narrative foundation.
Narrative clarity builds better playbooks.
This is especially true in small nonprofits, where people wear many hats. Those organizations need flexibility and deep clarity, not a Google Drive somewhere packed with process files that don’t get used. That flexibility comes from being so clear on your narrative that anyone on the team can tell it, adapt it, and deploy it in any context: A grant application, a press release, a networking conversation with a potential funder, an email newsletter. The playbook that follows from that kind of clarity holds up under pressure.
First narrative, then playbooks
If you voted for playbooks, you’re right – you need something concrete, and you need structure. But starting with playbooks means you’re starting in the middle.
Start with the narrative. Get clear on who you are and why your work matters. Then build your playbooks around that, and they’ll actually hold.
The good news is that this kind of clarity can be built without a six-month strategic planning process. But it requires concentrated focus, the right questions, and someone who knows how to listen for what’s underneath what an organization says about itself. It takes less time than you think, and it changes everything that comes after.
