The Impact Storytelling Collective opens 9 November. Founding members join free.
Storytelling
What is social impact storytelling? A guide for the people who fund it, commission it and sign it off
Social impact storytelling shows what changed, for whom, through real people, with consent. What it is, what good looks like, and how to get it done well.
Social impact storytelling is the practice of showing the difference your work makes through the real experiences of the people involved, told with their consent, in a way that leads someone to act. That might be a funder renewing a grant, a board protecting a budget, or someone giving for the first time.
That's the definition. This guide is about the part most definitions skip: what it looks like when it's done well, how to tell when it isn't, and how to get it done in your organisation, whether you lead a charity or a CSR or social impact team.
I'm writing it from both sides. I've led a charity, the Naz and Matt Foundation, for more than 12 years, so I know what it's like to need the story and not have the time to find it. And I now spend my working days helping other organisations find theirs.
Why it matters to the person holding the budget
Most organisations have more evidence than they think. Sessions delivered, people reached, money distributed. The trouble is that numbers prove scale, not meaning. A trustee, a funder or a sceptical colleague reads "1,200 sessions delivered" and still can't answer the question they care about: did it make a difference?
Stories answer that question. Not instead of the numbers, but alongside them. Your numbers prove scale. The story proves it mattered.
When I asked just over 300 readers of my newsletter what they were stuck on, no single problem stood out. Time, capturing stories, funding, consent and being seen each came up for roughly one person in ten. But when I asked a different group what they wanted storytelling to do for them, one answer came up more than twice as often as anything else: funding. That's the honest reason this matters. Not because stories are nice. Because the money follows them.
When the story is missing, three things tend to happen:
Funding conversations get harder, because the case rests on activity rather than change.
Partners feel used, because the story ends up being about whoever is telling it.
Teams stop sharing, because nobody is sure which stories are worth telling, or whether they're allowed to tell them.
That last one I know personally. When I was a boy in Birmingham I had a cheap plastic camera, and half the time there was no film in it. I'd look through the viewfinder anyway. What held me back for years was not giving myself permission to believe I could be a photographer. I see the same thing in a lot of the teams I work with. They don't think of themselves as storytellers, so the stories never get told.
What it isn't
It isn't marketing. Marketing sells. Social impact storytelling shows what actually happened, including the messy parts.
It isn't a sad story with a donate button. Stories built on someone's worst moment strip them of dignity, and readers increasingly notice. Ethical storytelling puts the dignity and agency of the person at the centre of every decision. I've written about how in ethical storytelling and the Naz Rule.
This one is personal. After the tragic death of my fiancé, Naz, in 2014, I had to decide whether to share our story at all, and how. It was my story to tell, but it was also his. Every decision I've made about other people's stories since has been shaped by that.
It isn't PR. PR manages perception. This shows reality, and people trust it because of that.
It isn't only for big organisations. A small team with a phone and a real story will often beat a large one with a big production budget and nothing to say.
Five signs the storytelling is working
Whether you're writing it yourself, signing off a colleague's draft or reviewing work you've paid for, look for these five things. They come from the framework I use and teach.
It knows where it's going. Before a word was written, someone decided what the reader should feel and do at the end. If nobody can tell you that, the story will drift.
It shows a destination, not just a problem. Stories that only describe need create anxiety, not action. "Transforming lives" isn't a destination. One specific person doing something they couldn't do a year ago is.
It's specific. Real moments, real places, real words, used with permission. Generalities are forgettable. Detail is what makes a story believable.
It connects one person to the bigger picture. One story on its own is an anecdote. A report on its own is a spreadsheet. The work is in the bridge: start with one person, then pull back to show the pattern.
It asks for something. Every story should leave the reader with a next step, whether that's a donation, a renewal or simply confidence that the strategy is working.
A word of caution on the second sign, because it's where I disagree with a lot of the guidance out there. The arc most funding forms push you towards is problem, intervention, transformation. It sounds tidy, and it quietly pressures organisations into inventing neat endings. Real change is rarely finished. I'd much rather read "here's where things stand, here's what worked and here's what didn't" than a happy ending that isn't true. Funders are adults. Treat them as partners in long, complicated work and most of them will respect you for it.
Where it matters most
Funding bids
Funders read a lot of applications, quickly. Many bids open with pages of need and only reach the solution once the reader is tired. Lead with one story that shows the problem, the approach and the result, then use the data to show it isn't a one-off.
Ask for: one story that carries the whole case, and the consent to use it.
Impact reports and ESG reports
Most reports bury the people at the back. The people who read reports, funders, trustees, partners and boards, are looking for one thing: evidence that it made a difference. Build the report around stories, supported by data, not the other way round.
Ask for: a story-led structure agreed before anything is gathered, so you're not hunting for examples at the deadline.
Corporate partnerships and community programmes
For CSR and social impact teams, the risk is different. The story drifts towards the company and away from the charity partner and the people they serve. Partners notice, and so do employees and the public.
Since 2024 I've been filming and photographing the community programmes of one of the world's largest technology companies. What the programme lead valued most was seeing the start, the middle and the end, so the change was visible over time. That's the difference between proving you were there and proving something changed.
Ask for: the partner's voice leading, sign-off agreed with them before anything goes live, and images that show the work rather than the visit.
Three ways to get it done
There's no single right route. It depends on your team, your deadlines and how often you need stories.
If you need your team to do this confidently, week in, week out: train them. A social impact storytelling workshop is built around your organisation, so they leave with the method and the confidence to use it.
If you need images that show the work, with consent: commission documentary photography, for charities or for CSR and community programmes.
If you need help finding the story and shaping it for your board, partners and reports: that's storytelling consultancy.
Many organisations combine them. The point is to choose on purpose, not by default.
One honest note about training, including my own. A single session is rarely enough. The moment training stops working is when someone says, "We had that four-hour session, so we're sorted now." That's why I build a follow-up into my workshops. Skills stick when you use them on real work, then come back and talk about what happened.
Six questions to ask before you hire anyone
Whoever you bring in, a photographer, a writer, a consultant or a trainer, ask these before you sign anything:
How will you decide which story we're telling before you start?
How do you handle consent, and can people change their mind later?
What happens when someone can't be identified?
Who sees the work before it goes live, including our partners?
What exactly do we get at the end, and who owns it?
What will our team be able to do without you afterwards?
If the answers are vague, the stories will be too.
I ask the second question for a reason. When I started out making documentaries, consent often meant a single form: sign everything away, or you can't be in it. I don't work that way now, and I'd be wary of anyone who still does.
Where to start this week
Pick one programme. Ask the person closest to it a single question: what is different now, and for whom? Write the answer down in their words. That's the beginning of a social impact story.
If you'd like a structure to build on, download The Social Impact Storytelling Framework, free. If you'd rather talk it through, book a 15-minute call.
Questions people ask
Is social impact storytelling only for charities?
No. Social enterprises, corporate CSR and ESG teams, community investment programmes, foundations and funders all use it. Anyone whose work creates social change, and needs to show that change to the people who fund or sign it off, can use it.
Can we do it ourselves, or do we need a professional?
Both work. Many teams improve a great deal by learning a clear method and using it every week. For higher-stakes work, such as a major bid, an impact report or a partnership campaign, outside help with the story or the photography can make the difference.
How do we tell stories ethically?
Start with informed consent and end with dignity. The person should understand how their story will be used and who will see it, should be able to see it before it goes out, and should come across as a whole person, not a case study. The Naz Rule sets out the full approach.
Matt Mahmood-Ogston is a London-based social impact storyteller and documentary photographer. He founded the Naz and Matt Foundation in 2014 and has led it for more than 12 years.
