Narrator: A business traveler named Dave is in a bar in Atlantic City. An attractive woman buys him a drink. He takes a sip, and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up in a hotel bathtub filled with ice. His chest hurts, and a note taped to the wall tells him to call 911. The operator, hearing his story, tells him to feel for a tube coming out of his lower back. He finds one. "Sir," she says, "you've been targeted by an organ-harvesting ring. They've taken one of your kidneys."

This story is a complete fabrication, an urban legend. Yet, it has spread across the globe, told and retold, sticking in our minds with its vivid, terrifying details. Now, consider this sentence from a real nonprofit report: "Comprehensive community building naturally lends itself to a return-on-investment rationale that can be modeled, drawing on existing practice." Which of these two ideas is more likely to be remembered tomorrow? Which is more likely to change behavior? The answer is obvious. But why? Why do baseless urban legends thrive while critical, well-researched ideas die on the vine? In their book Made to Stick, brothers Chip and Dan Heath dissect this very problem, revealing the anatomy of ideas that survive and providing a powerful toolkit for making any idea, no matter how complex, unforgettable.

Narrator: The first principle of a sticky idea is Simplicity, but this doesn't mean dumbing down or resorting to sound bites. It means finding the absolute core of an idea. It’s about stripping an idea down to its most critical essence. A successful defense lawyer once noted that if you argue ten points, the jury won't remember any of them. You must prioritize.

The U.S. Army learned this lesson the hard way. For years, they created battle plans so detailed and complex that they would fall apart the moment they made contact with the enemy. Their solution was a concept called the Commander’s Intent (CI). The CI is a simple, plain-talk statement that appears at the top of every order, declaring the plan's ultimate goal. For example, a CI might be: "My intent is to position the 3rd Battalion on Hill 4305 to control the West Addan River Valley." This simple statement doesn't dictate every move, but it ensures that every soldier, from the colonel to the private, understands the desired destination. If the original plan fails, they can improvise and still work toward the core objective.

This same principle drove the success of Southwest Airlines. For decades, CEO Herb Kelleher drilled one core idea into the company: "We are THE low-fare airline." This simple mantra became a filter for every decision. When a marketing employee suggested adding a chicken Caesar salad to a flight, Kelleher would have asked, "Will adding that salad help us be THE low-fare airline?" The answer is no. A simple, core message gives people a compass to make decisions independently and consistently.

Narrator: The first challenge of communication is getting someone's attention. The most effective way to do this is to break a pattern. Our brains are wired to notice what’s different. Surprise is the tool that gets our attention, but interest is what keeps it.

Consider a flight attendant's pre-flight safety announcement. Most passengers tune it out completely. But one attendant, Karen Wood, decided to break the pattern. She began her announcement with, "If I could have your attention for a few moments, we sure would love to point out these safety features." She continued with jokes, saying, "As the song goes, there might be fifty ways to leave your lover, but there are only six ways to leave this aircraft." The passengers were not only listening; they were laughing and broke into applause at the end. She got their attention by being unexpected.

To hold that attention, you must create curiosity. The Heath brothers introduce the "gap theory," which states that curiosity happens when we feel a gap in our knowledge. Effective communicators open a gap before they close it. Instead of just presenting facts, they start with a mystery or a question. For example, a science writer doesn't just explain the rings of Saturn; they might start by asking, "Scientists once believed Saturn was the only planet with rings. Now we know several do. What happened?" This creates a knowledge gap that the audience feels a need to fill, keeping them engaged until the answer is revealed.

Narrator: Language is often abstract. But abstract ideas are hard to grasp and remember. To make an idea stick, it must be concrete—explained in terms of human actions and sensory information. Aesop’s fables have survived for over 2,500 years not because they offer abstract moral advice, but because they tell concrete stories. The story of the fox who can't reach a bunch of grapes and declares them "sour anyway" gives us a tangible image that helps us understand the abstract concept of rationalization.

The Heath brothers call this the "Velcro theory of memory." Our brain has countless loops of existing knowledge. A new idea needs hooks to latch onto those loops. The more hooks an idea has, the better it will stick. Concreteness creates these hooks. For example, The Nature Conservancy struggled to get support for protecting a vast, vaguely defined area of oak savanna. The idea was too abstract. So, they gave it a concrete name: the "Mount Hamilton Wilderness." Suddenly, this abstract blob on a map became a real place, a tangible landscape people could visualize and feel motivated to protect. By making their goal concrete, they made it real.

Narrator: For an idea to stick, people have to believe it. While we often rely on authorities or statistics, the Heaths show that credibility can be generated in other powerful ways. One way is through the use of "antiauthorities"—people whose honesty and trustworthiness are more compelling than their status. The Doe Fund, an organization that helps the homeless, found that having a formerly homeless man named Dennis share his personal story of transformation was far more convincing to grant representatives than any presentation by the fund's directors. Dennis was living proof.

Another powerful tool is the "Sinatra Test." The name comes from the song "New York, New York": if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. If you have one example so powerful it establishes credibility all on its own, you've passed the Sinatra Test. An Indian shipping company, Safexpress, won a contract to distribute Bollywood films—a high-stakes job due to piracy—by telling the studio they were the company trusted to handle the nationwide distribution of the Harry Potter books and high school board exams. If they could be trusted with those, they could be trusted with anything.

Finally, testable credentials invite the audience to verify the idea for themselves. In the 1980s, Wendy's launched its famous "Where's the beef?" campaign. The ads didn't just claim their burgers had more beef than McDonald's or Burger King; they implicitly challenged customers to go see for themselves. This "try before you buy" approach outsources credibility directly to the audience, making it incredibly powerful.

Narrator: For an idea to matter, people must feel something. Analytics and statistics rarely inspire action; emotion does. Research shows that people are more willing to donate to a cause when they are told about a single, identifiable individual in need—like Rokia, a seven-year-old girl in Mali—than when they are presented with statistics about mass starvation in Africa. We feel for individuals, not for abstractions.

Appealing to self-interest is one way to generate emotion, but it's often not the most effective. A more powerful motivator is identity. People make decisions based on who they are and what groups they belong to. In the 1980s, Texas was plagued with roadside litter. The typical offender was an 18-to-35-year-old male who resented authority. A campaign saying "Please Don't Litter" would be useless. Instead, the state launched the "Don't Mess with Texas" campaign. It featured tough, iconic Texans like football players and country music stars looking sternly into the camera and declaring that real Texans don't litter. The message wasn't about civic duty; it was about identity. Littering wasn't just wrong; it was something a true Texan would never do. The campaign was a massive success, reducing litter by over 70% in its first few years.

Narrator: The final principle, Stories, acts as a flight simulator for the mind. Hearing a story allows us to mentally rehearse a situation, preparing us for how to act when we encounter a similar scenario. Stories provide both simulation (knowledge about how to act) and inspiration (motivation to act).

The story of Jared Fogle is a perfect example. In the late 1990s, Jared, a 425-pound college student, lost over 200 pounds by eating a diet of Subway sandwiches. His story, once discovered by Subway, became a national sensation. It was a Challenge plot—a classic underdog story. But it did more than just inspire. It provided a clear simulation: here is a simple, accessible diet that worked for a regular person. The story gave people a blueprint for action. It wasn't just a story about weight loss; it was a story about how to lose weight. By combining inspiration with a mental flight simulator, stories drive us to act.

Narrator: The single greatest enemy of a sticky idea is what the Heath brothers call the "Curse of Knowledge." Once we know something, we find it nearly impossible to imagine what it was like not to know it. We talk in abstractions, use jargon, and bury our core message in complexity, forgetting that our audience doesn't have the same background we do. The SUCCESs framework—Simple, Unexpected, Concrete, Credible, Emotional, Stories—is the antidote to this curse. It provides a systematic checklist for translating our ideas into a language that everyone can understand, remember, and act upon.

The challenge, then, is not just to become a creator of sticky ideas, but a spotter of them. Look for the simple, concrete stories that are already circulating in your organization or community. What are the "Don't Mess with Texas" or "Where's the Beef?" moments waiting to be discovered? By learning to spot and shape these naturally sticky ideas, you can transform your communication and ensure your most important messages don't just get heard, but truly stick.