Key Takeaways
1. Lawyers are Master Storytellers, and Arguments are Stories in Disguise
Make no mistake about it—lawyers are storytellers.
Core profession. Lawyers, whether in court or negotiating, fundamentally tell stories. These narratives, though factually meticulous and accurate, are constantly ordered and reordered to serve clients' purposes. Effective storytelling is often outcome-determinative, sometimes literally a matter of life or death, making it a crucial skill for successful law practice.
Hidden narratives. All legal arguments, from trial to appeal, are built upon facts shaped into stories, carefully fitted with legal rules and precedent. Unlike analytical arguments, the structure of a story is often implicit, demanding "verisimilitude" so the audience isn't distracted by the craft. This hidden architecture, however, is powerful and well-defined, guiding the audience's interpretation without explicit awareness.
Beyond doctrine. While traditional legal education often devalues storytelling, lessons from creative writers of fiction and nonfiction are as vital as any legal doctrine. Consciously deploying the tools of a storyteller's craft—such as plot, character, style, setting, and narrative time—allows lawyers to perform their jobs better, transforming complex legal issues into compelling and persuasive narratives.
2. Craft Compelling Plots with Purposeful Structure and Anticipated Endings
From the very first word in a story, or image in a movie, every movement of plot works in anticipation of its ending.
Plot's essence. A plot is the intelligible whole that governs a succession of events, transforming raw material into an ordered sequence that provides meaning. This sequence is not arbitrary; it's driven by "narrative profluence," a purposeful forward movement between events, often with causal connections that compel the audience to ask, "What happens next?"
Story logic. Plots are inherently bounded and demarcated, with parameters and constraints that compel a predetermined outcome. Knowing the desired ending and working backward from it is a practical strategy for storytellers, as the ending gives the story closure and meaning. This "story logic" ensures the fitness of outcomes, making the whole of the story greater than the sum of its parts.
Universal framework. The Amsterdam-Bruner model provides a robust framework for plot:
- An initial steady state (legitimate ordinariness).
- Disruption by trouble (human agency or intervention).
- Efforts at redress or transformation (succeed or fail).
- Restoration of old state or creation of new one.
- A coda (drawing the tale into the telling, e.g., a moral).
This structure, whether explicit or implicit, guides the narrative trajectory and anticipates the story's resolution.
3. Leverage Melodrama to Frame Conflicts as Battles Between Good and Evil
In melodrama two themes are important: the triumph of moral virtue over villainy, and the consequent idealizing of the moral views assumed to be held by the audience.
Simple conflict. Melodrama, a genre often predominating in litigation, presents the battle between good and evil in its simplest form. The hero-protagonist struggles against a clear villain, and the audience roots for the hero to triumph, affirming shared moral virtues. This genre is particularly effective for combative legal storytelling, such as plaintiffs' torts cases.
Villain's importance. The effectiveness of a melodrama, and the hero's virtue, is often measured against the strength of the antagonistic force. As Alfred Hitchcock noted, "The more successful the villain, the more powerful the story." In legal contexts, this means transforming an abstract entity like a corporation into a tangible "Beast" that embodies greed and corruption, as Gerry Spence did with Kerr-McGee in the Silkwood case.
Heroic quest. Melodrama often involves a heroic quest, where the protagonist (or even the jury) must overcome overwhelming odds to save a community or uphold justice. This genre allows for the projection of evil onto an "other," purging collective anxieties and fostering a sense of shared purpose. The narrative progression moves from an initial steady state, through unfairness and injustice, towards a potential tyranny if the hero (or jury) fails to intervene.
4. Develop Characters Strategically to Drive Persuasion and Elicit Empathy
In legal storytelling WE STILL BELIEVE IN CHARACTER, especially in the economical and persuasive depiction of sympathetic and compelling characters, clearly defined and recognizable, with coherent psychological motivation, fulfilling their purposes within a highly structured and composed plot.
Character's enduring power. Despite modern literary trends that question the fixed nature of character, legal storytelling profoundly relies on it. Judges and juries often attribute behavior to innate character traits—a phenomenon social psychologists call "fundamental attribution error." Therefore, creating coherent, intelligible characters is crucial for making a plot persuasive and achieving a satisfactory outcome.
Motivation as a bridge. Motivation serves as a two-way bridge between character and action, allowing fact-finders to infer what a character will do from who they are, and vice versa. Legal stories emphasize free will, where causation results from deliberate choices. Sympathetic protagonists, like Louis Failla in Jeremiah Donovan's argument, can elicit empathy, while disliked characters may face harsher judgment, regardless of strict legal relevance.
Techniques of depiction. Effective characterization employs three primary techniques:
- Description: Selective, economical details (physical traits, mannerisms) that imply character without overwhelming the narrative.
- Dialogue: What characters say and how they say it, often through direct quotes or paraphrases from transcripts, revealing personality and motivations.
- Action: How characters respond to conflict and make choices, driving the plot forward and revealing their true nature or "character arc."
5. Master Style and Voice to Control Perception and Deepen Engagement
Every sentence has a truth waiting at the end of it and the writer learns how to know it when he finally gets there.
Beyond grammar. Style and voice in legal storytelling transcend mere grammatical correctness; they are instrumental choices that shape how a story is received. A lawyer's literal voice, pacing, and confidence, or the stylistic choices in written prose, can elevate a simple narrative into a compelling, morally authoritative tale, as seen in Gerry Spence's "biblical" tone in Silkwood.
"Staying on the surface." A "hard-boiled" detective style, characterized by short, concussive sentences and objective descriptions, can be powerfully persuasive. This style, exemplified by James Ellroy or the Riggins v. Nevada brief, focuses on surface details without explicit commentary, compelling the reader to act as an investigator and draw their own conclusions, often with a chilling effect.
Showing vs. Telling. Stories are built through a rhythmic interplay of "scenes" (showing through visual details, dialogue, action) and "summaries" (telling, compressing events). While legal briefs often lean on summaries due to space constraints, strategic scenes are vital for drawing readers into the story. The skillful alternation of these modes, along with "stretch" (slowing down time), controls pacing and emphasizes crucial moments.
6. Utilize Settings and Environments as Active Forces Shaping the Narrative
Beyond the lines of printed words in my books are the settings in which the books were imagined and without which the books could not exist.
More than backdrop. Settings, descriptions, and environments are not merely passive containers for a story; they are active forces that instigate events, compel the shape of the world, and can even determine narrative outcomes. The environment can embody themes, subtly alerting the audience to the story's deeper meaning, as High Noon's frontier town reflects its allegorical plot.
Evoking atmosphere. Strategic choices in depicting settings—from selecting specific physical objects to using evocative sensory details—can create a powerful atmosphere. Joan Didion's "The White Album" uses sensate fragments to evoke an unstable, dangerous Los Angeles, making horrific events seem almost predictable within that environment. Similarly, legal narratives can use stark descriptions to highlight vulnerability or injustice, as in the "shadowy environment" of Rusk v. State.
Environment as villain. In some legal stories, the setting itself becomes the primary force of antagonism, overwhelming characters and directing their will. Mitigation stories, like Kathryn Harrison's While They Slept or the Eddings v. Oklahoma brief, depict environments of pervasive abuse and constraint, where the protagonist's violent actions appear as an inevitable, desperate escape from an inescapable terror.
7. Manipulate Narrative Time to Enhance Persuasion and Reveal Meaning
Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.
Beyond chronology. While lawyers are often taught to present facts "chronologically," this is a naive and often deceptive instruction. Narrative time is malleable, allowing storytellers to purposefully bend and shape it to fit narrative demands. There's "story time" (the temporal sequence of events) and "discourse time" (the order in which events are recounted), and these are rarely identical.
Strategic time travel. Storytellers employ "anachrony"—departures from strict chronology—to enhance persuasion:
- Analepsis (flashback): Returning to the past to fill in gaps or re-tell events, providing crucial backstory or character motivation, as Donovan did for Failla's poverty.
- Prolepsis (flash-forward): Anticipating future events, often to foreshadow consequences or emphasize urgency, like Spence's "nightmare vision" of the Silkwood future.
- Ellipsis: Omitting periods of time, either implicitly or explicitly, to create suspense or emphasize the unknown, as in Miranda v. Arizona's "Interrogation Room 2."
Pacing and rhythm. The pace of a story is controlled by alternating "scenes" (discourse time ≈ story time), "summaries" (story time >> discourse time), and "stretches" (discourse time >> story time). This rhythmic interplay, whether in oral arguments or written briefs, allows the storyteller to emphasize particular events, control emotional impact, and guide the audience's interpretation without explicitly revealing the manipulation.
8. Embrace the Unfinished Nature of Legal Stories, Empowering Decision-Makers
A final characteristic of law stories, especially the stories told in litigation practice, is that these stories are typically open or unfinished stories—their endings are strongly implied but not ordered or prescribed.
Implicit endings. Unlike a novelist who writes the final chapter, legal storytellers present narratives with strongly implied endings, leaving the ultimate resolution to a decision-maker—a jury or a judge. This means the beginning of a legal story must carefully signal its proposed ending, guiding the audience towards the desired outcome and meaning.
Jury's role. In cases like Silkwood, the jury is tasked with completing the hero's journey, punishing the villain, and inscribing a meaningful coda on the tale. This empowers the jury, transforming them from passive listeners into active participants in the quest for justice, making their verdict the final, transformative act of the story.
Truth and ethics. Legal storytelling, while artful, must remain factually meticulous and truthful. Lawyers are ethical realists, and their narratives must be grounded in evidence, even when employing creative techniques. The art lies in constructing a seamless world that sings with "verisimilitude," where the narrative machinery remains hidden, and the story's persuasive power stems from its apparent candor and objective transparency.
Review Summary
Reviews of Storytelling for Lawyers are mixed, averaging 3.71/5. Supporters praise it as an invaluable resource for practicing attorneys, highlighting its clear breakdown of narrative techniques like voice, pacing, character, and structure. Critics argue the book focuses too narrowly on courtroom storytelling, particularly jury trials, while neglecting broader legal practice. Some find the literary and film comparisons—including Jaws and Slaughterhouse-Five—insightful, while others consider them excessive. Several readers note the book becomes repetitive in later chapters.