Happy Saturday, Reader

It’s been one of those weeks where I was struggling to decide what to write about, despite having a long list of ideas that I go to each week. And then, we found out that Sam Neill passed away and naturally, I had to switch on Jurassic Park.

I remember watching this movie in the theater, and I tell you, over 30 years later, I still love it as much as I did the first time (and I still get the jump scares in all the right places). And while Jurassic Park is remembered for its groundbreaking visual effects and unforgettable dinosaurs, I think one of Spielberg's greatest storytelling decisions happens long before Hammond explains “Dino DNA!”

Grant and Ellie are on their first ride through the park. Ellie is distracted by the prehistoric plants when Grant notices something in the distance. He doesn't say a word. Instead, he silently turns Ellie's head to follow his line of sight.Their jaws drop in unison as they witness a living dinosaur for the very first time.

Hammond simply watches them experience the impossible. John Williams' score takes over (it does a lot in this scene, it’s brilliant). No one is asking about the science because they are simply overwhelmed by wonder.

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This is the brilliance of Spielberg. It would have been easy to do this in reverse—to open the story with a lecture on how to extract DNA from mosquitoes trapped in amber. We could have learned the cloning process before anyone ever stepped foot in the park. And it would have worked just fine. What Jurassic Park understands is that wonder has to come first.

It's a lesson most keynote openings ignore.

The formula that I often see in talks is, offer a question, establish credibility, then introduce a framework. But somewhere along the way, they forget to give us a reason to care in the first place. That’s why I keep coming back to this idea of wonder.

Wonder is what happens in the gap between seeing something and understanding it. Spielberg protects that space for as long as he can. The dinosaurs are there to remind us what it feels like to be amazed. We trust that the understanding of how it was possible will come later.

As storytellers, I think we underestimate the power of creating that feeling for our audience. We assume our job is to communicate expertise. But think about why this scene works: Grant and Ellie don't yet know the science; they just know something impossible is standing in front of them. The gap between what they're seeing and what they understand is what keeps you watching. When we explain too early, we close the gap before the audience even feels it open.

Take a look at the opening of your next keynote, workshop, or presentation. Find the first place where you explain your framework, methodology, or process.

Now ask yourself:

Have I given my audience something to wonder about first?

Look for the moment that you can turn your audience’s heads toward something they don’t have words for yet. Give them something to see before you explain what it means.

Until next week,