The case for building lore (not telling your story)

Everyone's been told to "tell their story." But stories have endings, so what comes next?

I have told my origin story so many times that I could do it in my sleep. Started Pretty Little Marketer from my spare room, grew it on Instagram, built a community, launched a membership, all the things. And every time I’ve been on a podcast or written a bio or introduced myself somewhere new, I’ve told some version of that same narrative - because that’s what we’ve all been told to do, right? Share your story, take people on a journey, make them care.

And it's served me well. But the brands and creators I feel most connected to right now didn't get me there with a story. They got me there through accumulation: the way everything they put out feels like it belongs to the same world, the way I keep noticing new layers the longer I pay attention, the way it feels less like I'm being told something and more like I'm discovering it.

So let me be clear upfront: this isn’t a “storytelling is dead” piece. Storytelling matters, it always will, and I’m not about to tell you to stop doing it. But I’d love to challenge you today, to consider how you can think bigger than “how do I tell my story?” and become something people live inside.

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“Just tell your story” - shut up.

Storytelling is the backbone of marketing, always has been and always will be - you don’t need me to tell you that.

But I think we’ve shrunk it: we took this big, powerful concept and reduced it down to 'why I started this' and 'here's how I got here' and day in the life vlogs and GRWMs where we share a bit of our story while we do our mascara. And that content is great - it does what it needs to do, it connects, it humanises, I make it myself and I enjoy watching it. But we've gotten so comfortable in that corner of storytelling that we've stopped thinking about what else it could be - the bigger picture, if you will.

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Enter: lore.

If you’ve ever played a video game, watched someone dissect a fantasy universe on YouTube, or fallen into a Reddit thread about the hidden mythology behind a fictional world, you already know what lore is - even if you’ve never used the word in a marketing context.

Lore originally comes from gaming and world-building. It's the deep background of a universe: the history, the mythology, the details that aren't handed to you in a neat narrative but are scattered throughout the world for you to discover and piece together yourself.

Think Harry Potter - the actual story is Harry's journey, but the lore is everything underneath it: the house system, the spells, the moving staircases, the Marauder's Map, the entire history of Hogwarts that you piece together book by book until the world feels like somewhere you've actually been. The story is what you're told, the lore is what makes you feel like you belong there.

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So, branding with a trendy name?

Kind of, yes. Lore and branding aren't completely separate things - your brand decisions are the foundation that lore gets built on. The visual choices, the tone, the positioning, the way you show up - lore doesn't exist without that stuff.

Lore lives in the gut feeling someone gets when they land on your content and just know they're in the right place without being able to explain why. You can rebrand overnight, but you can't rebuild lore overnight, because lore isn't a decision - it's a consequence of a thousand consistent decisions stacking on top of each other until they mean something.

That’s my take, anyway.

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Build your lore.

What if your content wasn’t just something people watched but something people felt like they were inside of? What if every post added a layer to a world that got richer over time, the kind of world people wanted to belong to rather than just follow?

Find your mechanic.

The brands and creators doing this well have all found their own way in, and the first step is figuring out which one fits you.

The bit: Duolingo turned their notification owl into a whole person - situationship with Dua Lipa, faked his own death, beef with Google Translate. Duo isn't just a mascot, he's a recurring bit people come back for. Obviously not all of us have a big owl suit lying around, so think practical: a running joke your audience is in on, a recurring format that's taken on a life of its own, something that started accidentally and would now feel weird if you stopped.

The vibe: Miu Miu never wrote a manifesto about who the Miu Miu girl is, and Emma Chamberlain never explained her aesthetic - they both just showed up so consistently that we all just knew. One did it through archetype, the other through energy, but the result is the same: you feel their world instantly.

The format: you know what an Architectural Digest Open Door video is going to look like before you click on it. Same with Hot Ones. The guest changes, the format doesn't, and that predictability is the whole point — people aren't just watching for the content, they're watching because the ritual itself is the thing they love. This might be the most accessible mechanic on the list because it's not about budget or brand size, it's about consistency. A weekly series, a signature structure, a way of delivering content that becomes unmistakably yours over time.

Chances are you’re already leaning into one of these without realising it. Your first job is to figure out which one, and lean in harder.

Build layers, not narratives.

A story is a single thread. Lore is what happens when you stack enough threads that they start to feel like a world.

The difference in practice is this: before you post something, stop asking “is this a good piece of content?” and start asking “does this add a layer to my world?” Go back through your last ten posts and look at them as a collection rather than individual pieces - do they feel like they belong to the same universe, or could they have come from ten different accounts? If it’s the latter, that’s your gap.

Lore is built through accumulation, which means every single thing you put out should feel unmistakably yours and connected to what came before it. Not in a “everything has to be part of a grand plan” way, but in a “this clearly belongs to the same world” way. When someone scrolls your feed, they should feel like they’re walking through a universe, not flicking through a folder of unrelated files.

Make it discoverable, not explained.

This is the thing that makes lore lore rather than just good branding. The power of it is that it’s felt before it’s understood - discovered, not told.

A24 never published a manifesto, Emma Chamberlain never posted a 'this is what I'm about' carousel, and Duolingo didn't release a brand guidelines PDF explaining Duo's personality - the lore lives in the work itself, in the visuals and the tone and the choices and the format and the way they show up every single time, and because the audience discovers it rather than being told about it, they feel like insiders rather than spectators.

Every time you’re tempted to tell people what you stand for, ask yourself whether you could show it instead through the next five pieces of content you make. That’s where lore lives.

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Case closed.

Your story grabs attention, and your lore builds identity. Your story is what makes someone stop scrolling. Your lore is what makes someone call themselves part of your world.

People don't get Hogwarts house tattoos because of the plot - they get them because the world became part of who they are. That's the difference, and I know which one I'd rather be building.

See you next Monday!