I don't think you are telling enough stories.
Storytelling is the most effective communication and persuasion tool ever invented. People remember stories; they forget statistics.
Have you ever noticed all the major religious texts in the world are filled with stories?
And why is Scientology the fastest-growing religion in the world? Because it was created by an award-winning science fiction author.
When To Tell A Story
I find that people are usually confused about when to tell a story.
Should you tell a story when you're pitching an idea to your boss or your client? What about when your crush asks how you're doing? Should you tell a story, or just say, “I'm good.” How about in your philosophy essay?
Fittingly, I'm going to answer with a story.
When I first started the Write Practice, I needed help. I didn't want to bully people into helping me, though. I wanted people to want to help. The problem was I had nothing more than an idea to motivate them.
How could I inspire them to action?
When I sat down to email my first prospect to ask for help, I had a flash. What if I told them the story of how I got the idea? So I wrote out the story and clicked send. Later, I met with a friend and told them the story in person. I told the story over the phone. I must have told it a dozen times.
Storytelling is Risky Business
At first, I worried about how they would receive my story. I thought they would think I was wasting their time. Normally, I would have just told them about my idea. Instead, by telling them a story, I was taking a risk.
In our culture, we believe people are motivated by facts, by good information, by solid numbers. The truth is that stories are the most motivating thing in the world.
When I told my story, people responded. They got involved. The story transformed my abstract concept and made it real for them.
When should you tell a story?
The answer is whenever you can.
You want to change the world? You want to inspire people? You want to help people?
Start by telling a story.
PRACTICE
Do you have a dream? Do you want to change the world in some way? Do you have a passion for something and want to make a career of it?
Tell us about it.
For fifteen minutes, tell your “dream testimony.” Write about how you got the idea for your dream. Post your “dream testimony” in the practice.
Happy storytelling!
Come back tomorrow when we'll talk about HOW to tell your story.
It’s probably not all that shocking, given that this is a writing blog and I’m a loyal subscriber, that my dream is to write. Like many writers, I’m an avid reader, and I love fiction that transports me Somewhere Else and creates a new world I’d never imagined. My favorite genre both to read and to write is young adult fantasy; naturally, I’m a huge Harry Potter fan. It was while standing in line at a bookstore at midnight to buy book six that my vague writing dream began to crystallize and take a more specific shape.
I overheard a young girl–probably about 11 years old–talking to her mother about the books. She was describing her favorite characters and places and Hogwarts classes when she stopped with a heavy sigh and said, “I wish *I* were special like Harry.” It kind of broke my heart to hear it, but I knew exactly what she meant. When I finish a great book about someone who’s that kind of special–a witch, a wizard, a vampire, a fairy–I’m left with a lingering wistfulness because I know that life and those experiences could never happen in “real life”. It hurts a little–a good hurt, I suppose, but still a hurt.
I have a 2 year old daughter. I plan to read the Harry Potter books with her when she’s older, and I know she’ll sigh and feel that same tug at her heart. What I hope to do as a writer is write young adult books with heroes and heroines who–even if they live in a fantastical world–are ordinary. I want my main characters to be ordinary people who–through the strength of their character and their will–do extraordinary things. That is my dream.
Jen,
First of all, this is a great story. Especially the part about how you were standing in line, overhearing a little girl’s conversation. I love how you shift it to your own daughter, almost as if you want to write for *her *sake, which I think is a powerful and noble reason.
Thank you for trusting us with your dream, Jen, and I’m so glad you’ve found the Write Practice to be helpful.
It’s probably not all that shocking, given that this is a writing blog and I’m a loyal subscriber, that my dream is to write. Like many writers, I’m an avid reader, and I love fiction that transports me Somewhere Else and creates a new world I’d never imagined. My favorite genre both to read and to write is young adult fantasy; naturally, I’m a huge Harry Potter fan. It was while standing in line at a bookstore at midnight to buy book six that my vague writing dream began to crystallize and take a more specific shape.
I overheard a young girl–probably about 11 years old–talking to her mother about the books. She was describing her favorite characters and places and Hogwarts classes when she stopped with a heavy sigh and said, “I wish *I* were special like Harry.” It kind of broke my heart to hear it, but I knew exactly what she meant. When I finish a great book about someone who’s that kind of special–a witch, a wizard, a vampire, a fairy–I’m left with a lingering wistfulness because I know that life and those experiences could never happen in “real life”. It hurts a little–a good hurt, I suppose, but still a hurt.
I have a 2 year old daughter. I plan to read the Harry Potter books with her when she’s older, and I know she’ll sigh and feel that same tug at her heart. What I hope to do as a writer is write young adult books with heroes and heroines who–even if they live in a fantastical world–are ordinary. I want my main characters to be ordinary people who–through the strength of their character and their will–do extraordinary things. That is my dream.
Jen,
First of all, this is a great story. Especially the part about how you were standing in line, overhearing a little girl’s conversation. I love how you shift it to your own daughter, almost as if you want to write for *her *sake, which I think is a powerful and noble reason.
Thank you for trusting us with your dream, Jen, and I’m so glad you’ve found the Write Practice to be helpful.
Jesus used ’em lots of different ways to great effect. For example, consider how a story makes the medicine go down in this rebuke: http://www.sethbarnes.com/?filename=how-to-rebuke-somebody
Jesus used ’em lots of different ways to great effect. For example, consider how a story makes the medicine go down in this rebuke: http://www.sethbarnes.com/?filename=how-to-rebuke-somebody
the flirting, the continuous seductive behavior,the out of control adventures i got myself into… intoxicated or sober.. it was all too much. sometimes i couldn’t even remember what the hell i even did the night before. it was kinda funny i thought to myself..my intuition was telling me it had been time to seek help.
but.. it drew people to me. it made me interesting. people loved how i could verbalize my stories.. that the stuff i’d go through, seemed like a scene you’d watch in the movies. i denied myself for the longest time, while people wanted to be with me. people surrounded themselves with me.
anxiety and resentment ran through my blood as heads turned, eyes teared, voices screaming my name. “phoebe this, phoebe that.” i was getting too much attention. it was good attention…. or fantastic attention.
i wanted to run away, i wanted to go to no man’s land. where no one would see. i would start over, and new.
“i told ya so..” giggled my intuition. “get help. you need it.”
as i spoke with a friend about my hectic life,.. he recommended me to an amazing therapist.
the day i walked into the therapist’s office. a snowball of question ran through the snowy mountains of my mind.
“what is he going to tell me? “what’s he going to think of me?”
but most importantly….
“what’s he going to diagnose me with….?”
the questions.. made my blood boil. because i didn’t have the answers. breath in.. breath out.
“come in phoebe.”
sirens in my head were ringing.
the session took up two cold uncomfortable hours of my time. i could see the uncertainty in every word the doctor spoke. the wide eyes when i spoke of the bad things i would do. he was shocked. his jaw had dropped.. he was frightened. i couldn’t tell if he was frightened by the idea of me …. or the idea of being WITH me.
i didn’t care anymore, i just wanted help. all i wanted was to be heard. isn’t that what everyone wants..? to be heard..
“you’re on the mild side of bi polar. , ” he explained “also, you”ve got a personality disorder. and add.”
i knew it. i knew it this whole time.
i was not even shocked one bit. all i felt was power..
i thought nothing of it until i remembered standing in front of a group of friends telling a story.. all eyes on me. their undivided attention on me.
“holy shit. that actually happened…?” asked everyone in the group.
giggles were floating in the air..
“you should write a book! it would be a best seller. everything about you should be in A book.” my friends all laughing and agreeing.
so that is exactly why i am here today. to find out how i’m going to start this thing. because i most definitely agree with them.
I just want to be normal.
I want to be able to go outside without being scared of what people think of me. Walk out my front door and I wouldn’t worry if that girl is judging me for my looks or my accomplishments. I greet her, I wouldn’t stutter or say the wrong thing. I see a minuscule sigh and she gives a polite smile and moves on with her day. I bit my lip and realize I must have offended her in someway.
I want to not fuck up each time I do something. Every time I forget a critical step. Every time my mind goes blank. The mistakes add up. Just going to the store and buying and talking to the sales person is a gargantuan task. I babble, I flub, I forget to remember.
Maybe if I somehow get rich I could help people like me. Make people make up for their weaknesses and emphasize their strength. I can barely help myself. I’m not even that of a good person. How the hell would I help others?
Writing is an escape. Writing is a blank slate. Everything could be better in a story. Not just in an ideal way, but how the story is told itself. I’m very cynical to hold the view that writing could change the world. But every word, each sentence affect people in some way. Maybe what I would write would affect somebody, make them laugh, make them cry, make them shout their hearts out.
I’m doing this for myself. I just want to write something I would read. To have that ability is my dream, I guess.
Or maybe 1 million dollars. That would be good too.
This is almost exactly what I struggle with. I prefer to hide behind a computer screen and view the people on the other end as nothing more than pixels; pixels that make up words and images. To actually speak to another human being, to actually use my own voice, seems nigh impossible. Some say that our struggles actually make us stronger and better able to relate to others, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way most of the time. Mostly, one just feels cold and alone.
Anyway, here’s to us, fellow SAD sufferer. May you break free from the beautiful prison of your own mind.