It’s a chilly, blustery day outside. The clouds have been swept from the sky and the bare tree branches make quite a din every few minutes in the stiff breeze. I think it will be a great night for stargazing…if I could only find a spot somewhere around Jordan Lake where I can make clear, uninterrupted observations.
My comments and stories rarely have funny or interesting conclusions, deep insights, or points, for that matter. Storytelling as a conversational practice was something I realized was commonplace only in my later years of high school, and it was never something any of the members of my family engaged in, at least not to the point where I noticed it growing up. Oftentimes I’ll be listening to a friend telling a story, and while I realize that the event being described may not have been extraordinary or even really noteworthy, their manner of relating the event makes it seem exciting. Gestures, eye contact, tone of voice, and emphasis on words and pauses all make the difference. I feel like half the time when I’m describing a really interesting event, I tell it such a way that it seems even less interesting than it should be… It’s like I shoot my stories in the foot inadvertently. It’s a skill that I’ve tried to consciously develop, but for years I thought that extraordinary experiences (not many of which occur to me) were the key to good stories, and I’ve had a hunch lately that the draw is more in the telling itself than the actual event.
I agree—good story-tellers can make anything sound interesting. I think they do this by applying 10% bullshit to the truth and screwing the objective in favor of the abnormal or thought-provoking.
I disagree. Your stories about France are A++.
It’s true…storytelling is an artform. Doesnt matter that the sculpture is a mound of clay or cement…it’s how all the curves and angles all come together that makes it something more.
Think of Steve…he’s a natural storyteller. So often it’s just about watching some sports game or what this person said, common everyday occurances (sp?), but the way he tells it grabs your attention and makes you want to listen. It’s the difference between *telling* someone what happened and communicating it in such a way that they feel that they’ve experienced it, too.
I also tend to summarize events…it’s far easier and takes less time. But then again, it all depends on your motivation. Your memory of France was storytelling…you allowed the listener to feel the breeze on his face, hear the music for himself, breathe the atmosphere…instead of merely telling him that it happened.
Of course then you always get into forced perspective because you *are* telling them how it felt to you, not necessarily how it would have felt to them. But that’s ok. I felt it. Even though i was there and didnt experience it the same way that you did, didnt see things through your emotion, i felt that i was there again and it was beautiful. I appreciate the way you felt, and knowing that you experienced the same surroundings as i in that way makes it deeper, more real, of an experience for me. Shared memories tend to do that. It just takes one common thread.
It’s true. Kinda makes me wonder, though, how much thought goes into a story beforehand in order to emphasize the interesting… I have a feeling the really good storytellers can do it totally on the fly (a la Garrison Keillor).
Thanks, Em :) I was specifically referring to the conversational part of storytelling (as opposed to written), but there are certainly principles that apply across the board…
Oh.
Separating selves…
It’s odd for me, because there are times I can pop out with a story that everyone is busting up over – no prep other than ‘dwelling’ on the experience – and other times when I know, as soon as I’ve spoken the first word, it’s going to flop.
I was just thinking about it recently, too.. about that fine line between dictating and storytelling. The driving force of the latter (at least my version), I think, is being able to laugh about yourself and see the unfathomable quirkiness of some situations. First you have to be observant enough that, even if the situation passed in a blur, you can recall details later. Second, you can’t be too self-concious about what you’re talking about.
My greatest stumbling block is being self-concious – stories fall flat if they’re not complete, and if you omit some details because you feel embarrased, or awkward, or as if you can’t do it justice – that’s when the average person (such as myself) loses hold of their audience.
Just a few cents worth, during a slow moment at work. Heh.
Steve is definitely a natural storyteller. I think one of the things that makes him that is that he believes wholeheartedly that what he’s relating is funny or interesting or genuinely worth hearing, and he projects the expected level of interest when you’re talking to him as well.
Thanks for the compliments about the memory of France. Not having to deal with the tone of voice and the sort of theatrics that sometimes accompany spoken storytelling makes it easier for me :)