2nd Chance: Why Some Stories Demand to Be Told
In 2024, we asked businesses and organisations across the UK a deceptively simple question: What’s the story you believe deserves to be told? What followed was an inspirational equestrian story we couldn’t have predicted — and one that would eventually become 2nd Chance.
What’s the story you believe deserves to be told?
More than 40 responded. There were businesses, causes, organisations and individuals, each with their own reasons for believing their story mattered.
One stood out. It came from an equestrian coach called Kathryn Howard.
The film that eventually emerged from that submission became 2nd Chance, a six-minute story about horses, disability, resilience and a woman whose experience of helping others took on an entirely different meaning when her own ability to walk was threatened. But looking back at the project now, there’s another question I find equally interesting.
Why did Kathryn’s story stand out amongst all the others?
Because understanding that tells us something important about what makes a story worth telling in the first place.
A Story Isn’t Interesting Simply Because Somebody Says It Is
This is one of the more uncomfortable truths about storytelling. Every organisation has stories. Not every story deserves a film.
When we ran the competition, we deliberately didn’t ask entrants what kind of video they wanted. We asked them to tell us their story and explain why it mattered. Kathryn did something interesting. She didn’t simply describe what she did.
She made us understand why she cared about it. Kathryn specialises in para equestrian coaching, working with people whose physical or neurological conditions can make activities most of us take for granted extraordinarily difficult.
For some of those riders, a horse provides something remarkable. As Kathryn describes it in the film: “They quite literally give people legs.” Suddenly this wasn’t simply a story about an equestrian coach. There was something much bigger underneath it.
Independence. Confidence. Freedom.
And the extraordinary relationship that can exist between people and horses. That’s where the story began to become interesting.
Then We Discovered the Contradiction
Good stories often contain something that doesn’t quite fit. Something that makes you want to understand more. Kathryn had spent years helping people overcome physical limitations through horses.
Then her own body began to fail her. A benign spinal tumour started affecting her ability to move. First she couldn’t run. Then she began losing sensation in her leg. Without surgery, she faced paralysis.
The person who had spent so much of her life helping others experience physical freedom was suddenly confronting the possibility of losing her own.
That’s the moment the story changed.
Not because illness automatically makes something compelling. But because Kathryn’s experience gave an entirely different meaning to the work she was already doing. She understood vulnerability from another direction.
And the horses that had played such an important part in the lives of the people she coached now became part of her own recovery.
The Strongest Stories Usually Contain More Than One Truth
It would have been easy to make 2nd Chance into an inspirational recovery film. Kathryn undergoes major surgery. She defies expectations. She recovers. She returns to horses. End credits.
But that wasn’t really the story either. Because Kathryn’s recovery only becomes meaningful when you understand what she chose to do with it. She returned to coaching. To the riders. To helping other people discover what might still be possible for them. That’s why 2nd Chance isn’t really a story about overcoming adversity.
It’s about purpose. Kathryn’s experience didn’t create her purpose. It sharpened it. And that’s a much more interesting human truth.
Our Job Was to Recognise That
This is where I think filmmaking is often misunderstood. Production is highly visible.
You can see the cameras. The lighting. The locations. The edit. The finished images.
But some of the most important decisions happen before any of those things.
They involve deciding:
What is this really about?
With Kathryn, there were dozens of possible directions. Para equestrian sport. Her coaching career. Her spinal surgery. Her recovery. The relationship between horses and disability. Any one of them could have filled six minutes.
Our job wasn’t to include everything.
It was to understand how those things belonged together. That meant finding the thread connecting Kathryn’s own experience with the experience of the people she helps. Once that became clear, we had the architecture of the story. The filming could then serve it.
Place Matters When It Provides Evidence
We filmed 2nd Chance at Kathryn’s stables and Stretcholt Equestrian Centre. Those locations are visually beautiful, but that’s not why they matter. They allow us to see the things Kathryn is talking about. The relationship with the horses. The interaction between coach and rider.
The physical experience of riding and carriage driving. The confidence that develops through it. Rather than simply illustrating Kathryn’s words, the environment provides evidence that supports them. That’s an important distinction. Beautiful footage can attract attention.
Evidence creates belief.
What 2nd Chance Taught Me About Choosing Stories
When I look back at those original competition entries, I don’t think Kathryn’s submission won because it was the most dramatic. It won because beneath the surface there were several truths connected to one another.
A woman helping disabled people experience greater freedom. Her own freedom suddenly threatened. Horses becoming part of both stories. And a personal crisis that ultimately strengthened rather than diminished her sense of purpose.
Those ingredients gave us something a camera alone never could.
Meaning.
That’s increasingly what I look for when somebody tells me they have a story. Not: Will this look good on film? But: Why should somebody care? What is at stake? What changes? What does this reveal that we didn’t understand before? And perhaps most importantly:
What is the truth underneath the obvious story?
Answer those questions and you’re getting somewhere. The camera can come later.
Watch 2nd Chance
The finished film is six minutes long. But knowing what I know now, I think the most important work happened before those six minutes existed.
Watch Kathryn’s story below.
What Story Are You Really Trying to Tell?You may already know that something important needs to be communicated.
You may even think you need a film. But before deciding what to make, there’s a more useful question:
What needs to be understood, believed or changed?
That’s where I start. You don’t need a brief. You don’t need a production plan. And you don’t need to have worked out the story yet.