Why Stories About Climate Change Need a Hook

Catrina Davies reading from the start of her third book based on the recollections of Hedley Ralph Collard. Why Stories About Climate Change need a hook. She sits in a small marquee on a seat, with a guitar to the right of her.

Finding an emotional hook is the first place I start when crafting a story. Now, as I’m getting knee-deep into my next book, I’m grappling with how to do that when writing about two big, abstract topics: climate change and regeneration. 

In May, I caught up with my literary agent. She was clear: ‘You need people to care about the climate in an emotional way. Read this.’ 

She thrust a hardback book into my hands. Once upon a Raven’s Nest by Catrina Davies. It’s beautiful and sits (unopened) on my desk like a talisman. Meanwhile, I pace around, drinking too many cups of earl grey as I try to find this illusive ‘hook’.

Meeting author Catrina Davies

Last Saturday I saw Catrina Davies speak at an author event. It was pouring outside the marquee and the venue was noisy. She sat, quietly, wavy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and picked up a guitar at her feet. In a raspy voice, a voice that suited the wild weather of this temperamental English summer, she sang one of her own songs. My husband Aden nudged me. ‘You’ll have to expand your repertoire.’ 

Then, Catrina read from the start of her third book based on the recollections of Hedley Ralph Collard. She told us that when staying in Wales in 2014, she met him on a walk. He was in a wheelchair. They  struck up a conversation, and over time, developed a remarkable friendship. 

In her book, she writes as if she is him: in the first person. ‘The book wasn’t working when I was writing about him. I had to inhabit his voice,’ she said. With his permission that’s what she does. (No mean feat.)

Catrina Davies reading from the start of her third book based on the recollections of Hedley Ralph Collard. Why Stories About Climate Change need a hook. She sits in a small marquee on a seat, with a guitar to the right of her.

Regenerative storytelling: a bridge between us and the planet

What she’s done is really interesting — and smart. Catrina has interwoven the life of one man (who’s name has been changed to Thomas Hedley) and pitched it against the much larger backdrop of life on Earth, starting 4.5 Billion Years Ago.

 By interspersing his human story — which began in the mid-1950s, at the time that we as a species began directly, unalterably impacting the planet  — we care about the individual AND the whole. 

As the rain lashed down, Catrina explained how she’d been trying to capture the fragility of his life. ‘It expressed something universal and urgent about all of our lives at this moment in history.’ 

Thomas, she said, is both an everyman and an extraordinary individual. He grew up on Exmoor in southwest Britain and knew the names of all the trees. He had a tough, rural upbringing, accident after accident, until one left him paralysed from the neck down. 

Davies' book cover: Once Upon a Raven's Nest - Why Stories About Climate Change need a hook.

Stories work best when they are universal AND particular. It’s a Hollywood cliche but it’s true. When we can see ourselves reflected in the life of a protagonist on screen, we leave the cinema with that rush of having experienced a great movie. We feel validated, our lives that bit richer.  

At the end of the talk, I bought another copy of Catrina’s book as a present. I introduced myself and she asked my name. Her forehead puckered. ‘I know that name. What did you write?’ 

I think I stammered. ‘’My first book was Last Seen in Lhasa—’ 

‘Aagh,’ she exclaimed. ‘I read that. Came out about twenty years ago? I’ve still got a copy.’ She handed me hers. ‘It was a great book.’ 

I think I blushed because it’s been a while since I’ve had anything published. It was a sweet moment: my own validation. An unexpected endorsement that I am on the right track with this new work about climate change. 

I still haven’t opened her book. The time isn’t right. But I look at it differently now when I’m procrastinating. It gives me hope. 

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

Stories as intravenous sense-makers

Bangkok city gardeners at work in the Rama IX Park, the largest park in the city.

Writing a new book always comes with a combined feeling of excitement, trepidation and wonder. 

Wonder — because you never know where it is going to lead. 

Every book I’ve written (and I’ve written five now — three non-fiction, two of which were travel memoir, and two fiction) — have taken me in a new direction. 

And my current book project — about regenerative leadership and storytelling — is already doing just that. 

Claire is standing in Waterstones, Oxford. She is smiling as she opens up her book, 'The Pagoda Tree.
Claire in Waterstones, Oxford in 2017, opening a copy of her novel "The Pagoda Tree".
The cover of Claires first book, Last Seen in Lhasa. Next to it is a letter written by her publisher.
Hot off the press: the cover of Claire's first book, "Last Seen in Lhasa".

Are we telling the right stories for right now?

Writing a book is a bridge between where you are and where you want to go. It opens new vistas, connects you (ideally!) with new audiences. And connects me with new meaning. 

I’ve always written as a way to understand and figure stuff out. Stories help you do that. They fast-track you. 

When you communicate data as a story instead of just presenting stats and facts, you create a bridge for data to be understood by the more  emotional side of the brain.

Stories are our intravenous sense-makers. 

Of course they are. We are hard-wired for stories. They are our oldest ways to make meaning out of this complex thing we call life. 

But I reckon we really need to think long and hard about the stories we are telling ourselves right now about our future. About the planet. About our place on the planet. And we need to get on with it… 

From climate change to regeneration

A slide taken from a Regenerative Storytelling workshop. The Image shows the silhouette of a man walking his bicycle across a bridge at dusk.
Like stories - being regenerative takes you on a journey.

I’ve spent the past three years really looking into how the climate narrative is shaped. (Changing the predominant narrative has basically been my research/passion project/awake at 3:00 am focus… I was pretty busy during lockdown.) 

But where I’ve ended up, isn’t where I thought I would. It’s starting from a different premise — from regeneration. 

Currently the way we are positioning the climate narrative is from a place of deficit, of lack, of fear and of scarcity. How often do you hear phrases like “we are fighting the war against climate change” or “we need to mobilise on a war footing” or “it’s up to us to save the planet.” 

In contrast, being regenerative aims to unlock the potential within us to enrich life. Being regenerative is evolutionary… you get there by building capacity. And you do so through understanding and aligning your actions with the bigger living systems within which we all live (and rely on). 

Over time, that helps increase vitality and viability — and you add value to the whole system.

Being a regenerative leader starts small

Getting my head around all of this has taken time. But I remember one of those 3:00 am moments in the weird weeks of early 2020. (It seems like a lifetime ago now… when covid-19 was just making headlines.) 

I came across this great article by Katherine Long and Giles Hutchins – both regenerative pioneers. It resonated then, and still today: 

“Think of yourself as a ‘guerrilla gardener’ seeding new opportunities for regenerative thinking and practise even in small micro-environments. Learn the craft of regenerative leadership wherever the opportunity presents itself, at home, societally as well as at work.“ 

Regen planting: 5 things you can do

  1. Pay attention to where your mind goes when you hear negative news — especially around climate. 
  2. Notice what happens in your body. 
  3. See if you can flip the script. 
  4. Focus on the wonder around you instead. 
  5. Get in touch with your senses: the taste of coffee on your lips, breaking sunlight through clouds, your cat purring at your feet. 

Would love to know how you find ways to seed positive ideas. Share below.

A slide taken from a Regenerative Storytelling workshop. It is a quote from Per Espen Stoknes.
Author Per Espen Stoknes has great insight into addressing stuck climate narratives.

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.