There is more than funnels: how to tell stories that create real trust

I had a conversation lately with one collaborator in my ecosystem who is pretty strong in funnel-based content strategies. He was telling me how I should structure a story: start with a pain point, stir the urgency, offer a solution, build credibility, and end with a call to action. Textbook stuff.

While I don’t discard that logic for very specific purposes—it can work well for conversion and performance marketing—I felt the need to debate it. Because what I aim for with my content is not conversion. It’s conversation. And that is a completely different game.

I don’t write posts to drive clicks. I write to establish a bond of trust with an audience of leaders and high-potential professionals who are extremely demanding when it comes to value. I want them to think: “If I ever get serious about building my personal brand, this is the person I will trust.”

That’s why I write differently.

No FOMO. No urgency triggers. No artificial stakes. I’m not trying to push the reader through a funnel. I’m trying to build an emotional space where value can be exchanged: I give ideas and strategic insight; the reader gives attention and, hopefully, long-term trust.

That’s the starting point of a different approach to storytelling. And in that conversation, I found myself explaining what I believe are the true foundations of powerful storytelling. Not the formulaic “content story” or the stripped-down “brand story” version of the Hero’s Journey, but a model that reflects how stories actually move people and why they matter for personal brands.

The four pillars of storytelling

These are not tricks. They are not formulas made up in a content marketing workshop. They are universal.

They come from one of the most important narrative models ever studied: the Hero’s Journey by Joseph Campbell. Campbell identified a recurring structure at the core of myths, epics, religious texts, and popular culture around the world. From Odysseus to Luke Skywalker, from Buddha to Jake Sully, the pattern is the same. The reason it works is simple: it reflects how we, as humans, make sense of life.

The four storytelling pillars I use are derived from this model. And because of that, they work across cultures, contexts, and audiences.

For a story to resonate at a deep level, it must rest on a few essential principles that give it emotional structure and strategic coherence. Let me walk you through them.

1. Declare a worldview: your story is not just a sequence of events. It signals how you see the world. That worldview is what filters your experience and what your audience will ultimately connect or disagree with.

2. Offer a transformation: for instance, if the story you tell is about you, people don’t remember what you did; they remember how you changed and what they learned through your eyes. The emotional core of every story is the transformation of its protagonist.

3. Create identification: audiences engage when they see themselves in you. That doesn’t mean mirroring their status or experience, but evoking dilemmas and desires that feel close to theirs.

4. Reveal your vision: a great story leaves us with a sense of where you're going. Not just what happened, but why it matters for the future.

These are the pillars that support my model: a purposeful simplification of Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, tailored for leaders and personal brands.

My model: a structure for authentic leadership narratives

The model I use—reflected in the slide I shared and grounded in the Hero’s Journey—is structured around four essential elements: problem, change, vision, and conflict. These are not abstract categories; they are the deep grammar of stories that move us, precisely because they mirror how we experience transformation in life.

1. There’s a problem: this is where the story begins. You identify what’s wrong or misaligned in the world as you see it. It’s the moment when you, as a personal brand, raise your voice and say: something important isn’t working.

2. You believe change is possible: you offer a solution and commit to making it happen. This is more than belief: it’s your first act of leadership. You take a stand, propose a direction, and show that you’re ready to act. This commitment positions you as a credible force for transformation, not just someone who sees the problem, but someone who steps up to solve it.

3. You offer a vision: you show the future you want to help create. This is what gives your message direction and aspiration. It’s the horizon line that pulls your audience forward and helps them imagine themselves in the picture. This part is crucial: it fuels motivation and gives the emotional energy needed to endure the discomfort and uncertainty of making real change.

4. You introduce the conflict: this is the most powerful part of the model, and the one I always leave for last, because it’s where the emotional stakes live.

   Conflict has two faces. The external conflict is made up of the people, systems, or obstacles standing in the way of the change you envision. But what truly makes a story resonate is the internal conflict, the transformation you ask of your audience. This is the invisible tension that plays out in the hearts of those who follow you. And this works across the board: in stories crafted to inspire positive change or, unfortunately, to manipulate perception.

   Let me give you an example. Donald Trump’s communication is a textbook case of this structure. He identifies a problem: “America is no longer great.” He promises a change: “I alone can fix it.” He offers a vision: “America will be great again.”

   But what makes it powerful is the way he works with conflict. The external conflict is clear: the elites, the institutions, the media. And he keeps expanding the list, because he knows that the more formidable the obstacles, the more heroic his proposition appears. But the internal conflict is more subtle and more important. He speaks to individuals who feel left behind economically, culturally, politically. And he tells them: “You’ve trusted the system, and it failed you. Now you must take back control. It’s hard, but it’s your responsibility.”

   That’s what makes this model so potent. It doesn’t just explain change, it demands it. And when used with care, it turns your value proposition into a personal, emotional journey that people want to join.

Why this matters for personal brands

If you’re building a personal brand, your value proposition is your promise. But no one feels moved by a promise that only lives in bullet points. A great story does something else: it translates your value into emotions, into experiences that your audience can feel.

When you use a structure like my story model, you don’t just explain what you do, you show why it matters, how it changes things, and what it says about who you are.