Things in threes.
There’s something about the number three that our brains find deeply satisfying. Not two. Not four. Three. It’s the minimum number that creates a pattern, and a pattern suggests inevitability — like gravity. One. Two. Three. Done.
This is called a tricolon. It’s the structural backbone of some of the most memorable lines ever spoken. Churchill didn’t actually say “blood, sweat and tears” — he said “blood, toil, tears and sweat” — four things. But people misremember it as three, because three is what our minds crave. The pull is that strong.
You see it everywhere once you start looking. “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” “Veni, vidi, vici.” “False, formulaic, and manipulative.” The third element always lands hardest because it feels final, definitive, like the period at the end of a sentence.
In business writing, it works just as well. When I describe my work, three elements in sequence — “written three 5-star thrillers, hosted hundreds of podcasts, and consulted with clients around the world” — it reads as authoritative. Not because each item is impressive in isolation, but because the pattern of three suggests breadth, depth, and staying power. It implies this isn’t a fluke.
The reason this matters for storytelling is rhythm. Your audience’s nervous system is tuned to patterns. Three creates a pattern. The third element feels like resolution, like arrival. Two feels incomplete. Four starts to feel like rambling.
Use it in headlines, taglines, bullet points, story beats — anywhere you want something to feel inevitable rather than accidental. But use it sparingly. The moment you notice you’re forcing a third item just to hit the number, your reader will notice too.
Three is powerful precisely because it feels natural — like the world itself speaks in threes.