Communicating with the “Daily” short story, your company tip

Audio
4 March 2025

Mathilde Pottier

Designer & Founder

New York. City of the world, city of stories. Since 1851, it has also been home to The New York Times, a newspaper born of a simple but bold ambition: to inform with rigour. First printed for the streets of Manhattan, over the decades, it has become a global reference. Witness to conflict, revolution, progress and decline, its columns have seen history in the making. But with the advent of digital technology, the newspaper isn’t clinging to the past: it’s transforming itself. Podcasts, newsletters, interactive storytelling – news is changing voice, format, and pace. The Daily, with its calm voice and structured narratives, is the most striking example. It’s no longer just about informing, it’s about involving, telling and making people feel. From Manhattan to the smartphone, it is no longer just the news that counts but how it is experienced, communicated and felt. An editorial evolution, but above all a human one.

From New York to great stories

The New York Times beginning

In 1851, a daily newspaper was born in New York with a clear ambition: to inform with rigour. The New York Times quickly became a global reference, driven by rigorous investigative journalism and a precise editorial line. For more than a century, it has been a witness to major events, from wars to elections, from scandals to social progress. But the advent of digital technology has upset the balance. Paper is in decline, usage is changing. The NYT is not resisting: it is adapting. It has invested in digital, rethought its business model and focused on quality content to build loyalty. Interactive infographics, personalised newsletters, narrative podcasts: the newspaper is inventing new formats without compromising its high standards. This shift towards editorial innovation is not an abandonment but a rethinking of continuity. Remaining a pillar of journalism also means knowing how to move without giving in, to evolve without getting lost.

The news arriving differently

In 2017, the New York Times observed a shift. News is no longer just read in a newspaper or on a screen. It’s listened to on the move, while cooking, and between meetings. Faced with the rise of audio formats and narrative podcasts, the newsroom is looking for a new entry point. The idea is not to summarise the news but to embody it differently. The challenge: a short, daily podcast with a recognisable voice, that of Michael Barbaro. The tone is set, the format is immersive, and the treatment is demanding. The project is called The Daily. It is aimed at those who want to understand without reading, who are looking for substance in a fluid format. More than a relay, it’s a new narrative channel designed for mobile, personal, fragmented use. It’s another way of staying informed, without abandoning complexity, but by changing the way we access it.

The recipe

Each episode follows a carefully planned sequence designed to capture, explain and retain. First, a short, direct introduction: a question asked, a mood set, a few seconds to set the scene. Then comes the heart of the story: a story told, often by a New York Times journalist, sometimes by a first-hand witness. The narration is fluid, punctuated by pauses, snippets and silences. The tone is calm, but the emotion flows. Gradually, the facts take shape, and the issues become clearer. We don’t recount the news, we tell it as it happened. At the end of each episode, a summary puts the events into context and provides the necessary perspective. The listener comes away with a clear understanding, but also with a feeling and a memory. The Daily transforms information into personal experience, making the complex accessible without oversimplifying it. A different way of informing: more human, more intimate.

Humans and anecdotes relationship

Our brain retains a short story better than anything

The human brain is not an Excel spreadsheet. It’s not wired to store numbers, dates, or hard facts. On the other hand, it is wired to store stories, images, and emotions. When we listen to a story, several areas of the brain are activated simultaneously: memory, of course, but also centres linked to emotion, empathy, and imagination. This overlap makes the information more vivid and, therefore, more memorable. A statistic fades, and an anecdote remains. Saying, for example, that the sea level is rising by 3.3 mm a year leaves little trace. But telling the story of a family forced to leave their flooded home at every high tide creates an immediate connection. The information becomes concrete, embodied. That’s why storytelling is a powerful vector of understanding: it allows the brain to feel what it understands and, therefore, remember it better.

Nong

The short stories powers

A well-formulated idea can be persuasive. But a well-chosen anecdote can change an opinion. In everyday life, as in the public sphere, short stories have a powerful influence. They bring an argument to life, conveying it not as theory but as a shared experience. Managers, advertisers, and journalists all know this: a story holds attention where argument can bore. In a debate, an anecdote creates a point of identification, a moment of pause into which the audience can project itself. A concrete example: in a political speech, a candidate can evoke a meeting with a citizen, a simple but emotionally charged scene. Far from being statistical, this narrative makes the message more human, closer and more credible. Anecdotes don’t prove anything – they make people feel. And that’s often where the strength of an idea lies.

The virality of short stories in the digital age

On social networks, the short story circulates better than the hard fact. Numerical information can go unnoticed. A well-written anecdote, on the other hand, is shared, commented on and remembered. That’s what formats like TikTok, Instagram Stories or Twitter promote: content that’s quick to read and easy to share. Personal stories replace analysis. It grabs attention in seconds and leaves an impression. It’s not depth that makes an impact but the clarity of a moment told. A concrete example: in prevention campaigns (tobacco, road safety, harassment), the most powerful messages are often based on a short scene, told in a sentence or a video. A person, a situation, an emotion. Nothing spectacular, just enough to provoke a reaction. Nowadays, it’s less important to prove a message than to make people feel it. And frequently, all it takes is a story.

TEDx and the short stories format

TEDx

The experience story

TED was founded in 1984 as a meeting place for technology, entertainment, and design. The idea was simple: share powerful ideas in a short period with short, memorable talks. But for a long time, these conferences were limited to a few events for a limited audience. In 2009, TED decided to open up the format to a wider audience by launching TEDx, a programme of conferences held under licence in schools, cities, and universities. Each event retains the spirit of TED but adapts to its audience and context. The aim is clear: to make the spread of ideas more accessible by highlighting personal experiences, real stories and new ideas. Today, more than 3,000 TEDx events are organised around the world every year on topics as diverse as science, art, health, and education.

The most effective narrative structures in inspiring lectures

Behind every memorable speech, there’s often a discreet but solid structure designed to grab your attention from the first few seconds and hold it until the end. The most common model is based on a personal journey: an individual facing an obstacle, then a revelation that changes his or her path. This seemingly simple form of storytelling allows the listener to easily identify with and retain the message. Other approaches, such as the one popularised by Simon Sinek – starting with the why, explaining the how, ending with what – are aimed more at those who seek meaning before method. Finally, some speakers begin by deconstructing a received idea, then unfolding a piece of evidence before proposing a new perspective. Whatever the format, the most important thing is to make a clear connection between what you experience, what you learn and what you share.

The Chimimanda Ngozi speech

In 2009, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie gave an emblematic talk at a TEDx event in Euston: The Danger of a Single Story. Within the first few seconds, she grabs your attention with an anecdote about her childhood in Nigeria and how her reading of Western authors influenced her worldview. Through this personal recollection, she initiates a broader reflection on how unique narratives condition our perceptions of others. The narrative arc is clear: an intimate experience, a universal observation, an opening to a solution. She doesn’t just denounce a bias, she proposes a simple response: multiply the stories. What makes this TEDx talk so effective is the precision of her tone, the clarity of her content, and the way each example illuminates her central idea. You walk away with a changed perspective and a desire to listen more closely to the world.

It all begin with a short story

In an age of continuous flow, cascading alerts and clickable headlines, telling the story becomes a political choice. The New York Times, with its emphasis on narrative formats like The Daily and the anecdote in its investigative reporting, reminds us that news is not just a pile of facts. It’s a way of making connections, of opening a window onto others. Personal stories, short accounts and intimate testimonies have a rare power: they give flesh to what might otherwise remain abstract. And that is undoubtedly what makes them so successful, from TEDx to TikTok. In a world saturated with information, the singular story becomes a gateway to the collective. From the New York Times to your headphones, this movement towards the short, the clear, the human is not a simplification: it’s a return to the essential. For to tell a story well is first and foremost to listen – and hope to be heard.