photo by hiddedevries
It seems that most of us have a deeply ingrained acceptance of the value of storytelling. When we meet an old friend for coffee to catch up, for example, we use old stories to cement connections and new stories to build identities. If you’re a small business owner, surely you’ve heard the cries to use storytelling in your marketing. If you’re in the nonprofit world, you’re likely tired already of being lectured that no one will support your cause unless you’re telling the story well.
But for all this chatter about stories, how many of us actually consider ourselves storytellers? How often do you consider your channels of narration and your audience? How often do you explore the implications of each story?
I spent last week working with a dear friend who I’m lucky enough to collaborate with on various projects. We were working on a sensitive project, interviewing people from Burma. I’ve always loved the process of interviewing, but doing three- to four-hour sessions of oral history interviews brought my love and respect for the form to a whole new level. Imagine the story as a well-worn blanket, tossed across the floor in a heap. These interviews were like the delicate process of unfolding each tangle, smoothing out each crease. The stories were intense and captivating, and the process of hearing and helping the story unfold was fascinating. I can’t give more details on the project at this moment, but I’ll let you all know when I’m able to discuss more.
Along these lines, here are a few questions that have been swimming around my mind these days … I’ve written some brief thoughts on each one, and I’d love to see you contemplate them in the comments section too:
- Where are you telling stories — what channels are you using? Why?
With the people closest to me, I maintain an open, ongoing narration that weaves the internal in with the external. These conversations feel essential to our relationships, and the process of speaking these stories is a crucial step in processing them. I tell a lot of stories on this blog too — again, a means of connecting and processing. My pen-and-paper is another channel that I’ve recently decided to revive — not my notebooks, though I use those every day, but my bedside journal for fleshed-out contemplation. Every time I put together a photo album on Facebook, I’m building a story of how my life is these days. I’m trying to be more conscious of this as I’m wading the waters of multimedia, looking for meaningful ways to tell stories.
- How often do you allow someone to really tell you their story? I mean, really gracing that person with your full attention and a desire to absorb their story.
Sometimes I become hyper-aware of how much we can drift in and out of our conversations. When I’m talking to someone over coffee, or in between working on projects, I sometimes feel that we accept distractions a little too much. Not that every interaction needs to be full, intentional communication — chatter serves its purpose too — but when I notice attention getting fuzzy, I try to really dive into that person’s story. Doing interviews with all sorts of people constantly reminds me how much both parties can learn and evolve through the deep telling and absorption of stories. When stories are written, do they automatically receive more weight?
- Are you using stories to cement the past or to build a new path? To preserve a long-held narrative, or to explore a new one?
There are certain stories that seem to pop up every time I’m getting closer to someone, or every time someone is asking about my life and how I came to where I am today. It feels weird when I notice these little narratives that maintain the same form, because I realize that I use them to build my identity. But sometimes I take a step back and realize that the story needs to be opened up a bit — hindsight, after all, brings a lot of new insights into the mix, and it never hurts to re-explore even your own narratives. When I tell people how I ended up in Thailand, for example, I become aware of how many factors and parts of me are neglected in the way I tell it. We can never show the whole picture, but it’s worth aiming to accept a wider view sometimes.
In my experience, committing to exploring other people’s narratives almost always triggers me to question and open up my own stories. And that applies to my personal stories, but also to the narratives of history or politics or beliefs that I’ve soaked up over the years. Of course you could always just challenge these views with a newspaper article or a book, but the effect often resides more deeply within you when it comes from a personal connection through opening to someone else’s story.
What are your thoughts on these questions? What are your channels, who is your audience?
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{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
I love telling stories, but sometimes I don’t know if it’s just because I love to hear myself talk or because I actually have something to say. (Partly joking.) I found that when I was student teaching, I strayed away from telling too many stories about myself or ways I connected with the literature through my life or people I know. I think I did this because my cooperating teacher whose class I was taking over told me that he likes to keep his personal life separate from his students. But I think I took it too far. I was wary of ever mentioning anything about myself, my friends, my family, my experiences outside of the classroom. Eventually, he told me that I needed to put more passion into what I was teaching and that it seemed as though I was removed from the texts and the students.
As I began teaching my own students this year, I realized that I was doing the same thing again. So I eased up a bit. I find now that storytelling is one of the best ways to show kids how you can make real-life connections in texts. I’ve kept some of the mystery of “Ms. A” alive, of course, but I am more willing now to tell them about a dinner table fight I had with my sister at the age of 12 over the lyrics of “Come As You Are” because it helps explain what topics are available for writing memoir, for example. Yes, now they think I’m crazy and they make fun of me because they can see a little bit of who I really am – crazy – but I think they also appreciate that I trust them enough to show them my own thought processes and connections.
What a wonderful post. It stopped me and made me think about listening (I read a blog post on that this morning), and yes, how often we don’t hear other people’s stories.
And yet, I’m often surprised by how much I remember of other people’s stories, even if at the time I might have been telling myself off for being distracted.
What’s even more interesting – to the point of being fascinating and worth exploring further – is the way that our stories change with time. We gain new perspective with time as we grow and change, and so our stories about even the same events change. So stories are evolving the way we are, as we re-interpret our own narratives.
.-= Joely Black´s last blog ..Further thoughts on the joys of editing (it’s like art, really) =-.
I’m a huge fan of stories, both being the receiver and the narrator. I used to think that the only way to tell stories was to become a novelist. Now I’ve embraced my ability to tell stories in other ways, that have nothing to do with fictional characters.
Your post really explained the different ways we as human beings connect with stories and share them with others. I love it!
.-= Nathalie Lussier´s last blog ..Organic Food: The Raw Debate Over Benefits of Organic =-.
@ Caren – I can completely relate. I did the same sort of thing when I first started blogging, and I realized that anything I wrote was often much less compelling if I tried to basically subtract myself from the point. Anyway, don’t your students love Ms. A *because* she’s (slightly) crazy?
. Like you said, sharing stories truly helps build trust…and helps people relate to big, abstract topics.
@ Joely – I share that fascination! It’s so interesting to watch our own stories evolve, as well as the narrative of history … interesting especially because none are ever objective. Ooh, evolution of stories is great food for thought
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@ Nathalie – Really good point… I’ve been writing much less fiction in recent months, but I still feel like I’m taking part in loads of storytelling. I love that there are so many different channels.
I’ve always thought of storytelling as being solely confined to fiction, which is completely barmy considering the fact that any time you tell an anecdote with a beginning, a middle and an end, you’re essentially telling a story. These stories are how people understand you or your world view better, and they’re what allow people to connect to which other. Similar experiences, or shared stories, forge that bond.
.-= Icy Sedgwick´s last blog ..One Word =-.
@ Icy – Yes, sometimes our perspectives are better revealed by how we tell stories, or what stories we choose to tell… I think it can be a much more subtle and telling way to understand a person’s way of being in the world. Of course there are also people who try to craft stories to hide or twist certain things, but I think even then it eventually proves telling…
Nice post. I love this: Are you using stories to cement the past or to build a new path? To preserve a long-held narrative, or to explore a new one? This question gives me something to think about.
I enjoyed visiting your blog.
Tēnā koe e Zoë!
I enjoyed this post.
Stories? Well it’s a long one. But I firmly believe that it goes back even further than I can relate:
Many hundreds, perhaps thousands of generations ago, I can imagine a hunter-gatherer returning home to family after a successful quest. I can see the little urchins huddling up to a grandparent for warmth and comfort, listening to the story being told of the hunting and gathering that day.
I can hear the prittle-prattle of questions being asked at the curiously exciting parts of the narration. I can see the enthusiasm of the narrator as the story is retold and embellished for good effect.
And why should this practice survive?
I can imagine the learning that took place as the urchins snuggled down and awoke the next morning with new ideas fresh in their thoughts of how a great day of hunting and gathering could be experienced. I see them re-enacting the ‘great quest’ perhaps several times over, when they are at play.
And they would become knowledgeable hunter-gatherers, who would have vision and stealth to hunt and bring food to the mouths of their offspring some years later. And they would retell a wonderful story of a ‘great quest’.
I can see the elderly nodding sagely as their grandchildren snuggle up close for comfort and warmth while listening to a great story.
It’s part of us, telling and listening. Could it be in our genes?
Catchya later
.-= Ken Allan´s last blog ..What Do You Do When You Find A New Site? =-.
@ Cynthia – I’m happy you found it thought-provoking — thank you for visiting
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@ Ken – I love how your comment unfolded wonderfully as a story… I certainly agree that it’s deeply ingrained in our means of interaction… and understanding and exploring.