Learn Storytelling Techniques from Magic Johnson at the Michael Jackson Memorial Service

Magic Johnson Teaches How to Tell A Story

Sometimes there are surprise moments when some rather public storytelling skills are demonstrated very well.

It is common to see public figures fail at storytelling. However, at the Michael Jackson Memorial service, entrepreneur and former professional basketball player Earvin "Magic" Johnson demonstrated a command of and elegance to his story. Although many speakers spoke at "MJ's" funeral, Magic's few moments stand out.

Here are 4 things that anyone who wants to use storytelling can learn from Magic's story.

1. His story was brief. I am sure that Mr. Johnson may have had more to say, but he cut through the extraneous details and went directly to his point, taking the audience with him as he experienced the wonder he felt as Michael Jackson ate KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) with him one night many years ago. Ironic as it may sound, the purpose of being a storyteller is not to talk words but rather to communicate ideas.

2. It was a story told in the "voice of the people." I have watched and commented on many public speakers, especially politicians, who try to speak "to the people." In the Jackson memorial, Magic Johnson used an important storytelling technique: talk so people understand. His words were simple. His illustrations were accessible to all as he talked about family gatherings, dinners, playing games with family, celebrity-meeting nerves and eventually, something as simple as a fast-food icon: a bucket of chicken.

As a pro-basketball star, Magic could have easily made sports references. However, no sports reference would speak to such a wide range of listeners as his family references did. Choosing to speak to your audience so they understand rather than using self-serving references is a sign of a mature and effective speaker.

3. In his story, he laughed at himself. Magic's story was not to tell people how wonderful he was but rather to share how wonderful he thought Michael Jackson was. A good storyteller can reflect the focus on the story and the subject of the story.

4. His story was actually a story. It contained a beginning, a middle and an end. Magic did not tell an anecdote: "I once sat on Michael Jackson's carpet and ate KFC with him. Wasn't that cool?" Rather, he placed his story in the context of a developing relationship with the family and the invitation to dinner. Without being sappy or manipulative, he shared his own feelings about the invite and his surprise to discover his idol ate "real food" like everyone else.

His story supported this expression of hope for the future. At the end of his comments, when he referred to Michael's children having family support, you knew his point of reference to make such a statement.

Although in the past Magic has been critiqued for his speaking style, his presentation at the MJ funeral was a good example for any speaker striving to improve their storytelling skills for business or personal use.

****
Sean Buvala is a public speaking coach who specializes in helping you tell your core story. For free Email lessons, please see www.storytelling101.com .










The official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.

Newest "Storytelling in Business" Podcast

Our next edition of the “Storytelling and Narrative for Business Podcast” is now available. This time around, we respond to a listener's email asking about the use of jokes, anecdotes and stories. Sean discusses the differences between each of these items as well as tells you the story of "Just Enough." Sponsored by http://www.executivespeakertraining.com/ and presented by http://www.seantells.net/.


Please send your questions and comments to sean@storyteller.net and be sure to put "podcast comments" in the subject line.

Click below to listen in!

Storytelling In Business Podcast #3

Find previous podcasts in this series at this address:
http://seantells.net/audio-and-video/podcasts/


The official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.

Today was Probably the Last $65 I Will Send to Tennessee

A Fairy Tale for the Beaten, the Bored and the Board.

Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Votary. Her mother had died and left her alone with her father and her younger sister.
The father grew in love with another woman who also had two daughters just a bit older than Votary. The father married this new woman and they blended their families together to create a new family in the woman's house that was tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

Votary was no slouch. After her mother had died, she learned many skills to the running and tending of a household. Because of this, she joined in happily with the new household and worked with her new step sisters under the directions of her new stepmother. They all lived together for a while in their very small house.

Things did not stay so smooth. Each day Votary was told to drag water to the house in buckets. Each day, she brought in 65 buckets of water! One day she said to her step-mother, “Mother, right near the river is a huge house. It has rooms for all of us and even some space to grow. Since it is near the river, we would be able to get water to the house faster and even more frequently. Think of the things we could do being so close to the water and in a much a larger house.”

“Silly young child,” replied the mother. We cannot move. There is so much history in this home, why would we want to be anywhere more convenient? Isn’t this enough? Now, hush, silly one, and go fetch some water. We’ll dry up without that water. By the way, have I mentioned to you that we seem to have a leak in the barrel? Please be sure to bring some extra water, too.” And with that, the mother smacked Votary on the behind with the broom.

Votary tried to carry on. One day, while she was cleaning out the fireplace, she discovered a new way to complete the job. It was not only faster, but the results were a much cleaner fireplace. As she shared her idea with her step-mother, the mother replied, “Oh, so naive you are. I’ve had your sisters look at the problem. I had a meeting with them while you were off doing something else. They can’t find a single thing to change. As you know, they have been here since the house was built from the bones of dragons. You couldn’t possibly know more than them, they are so wise, being your elders and ancestors. But, if you like, you may have that little space outside, on the fringe of our land, to try out your new idea. Don’t make too much noise and remember to always be a lady. Run along, so that I and my daughters may talk about the past.” And with that, the mother smacked Votary on the head with a piece of kindling from the fireplace.

Votary was sad and sat outside on a tree stump. One of her step-sisters came to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Dear,” she said, “ do not worry about the needs of the fireplace. I do think your idea is wonderful, but my sister has been cleaning out the fireplace for so long that there is no way we could possibly let you make that change. Here, have some sweet chocolate. You’ll feel better I am sure.” With that, the older sister patted Votary on the head and walked away, leaving the chocolate bar on the stump. Votary picked up the chocolate and took a bite. Ouch! And with that, she cut her tongue on a sliver of ground glass inside the chocolate.

The next day, as Votary carried one of her buckets of water to the house, she dropped it! It fell to the ground, spilling the precious water everywhere. Votary carried the bucket to the house and asked her step-mother if she knew how to fix the bucket. “Yes, of course I do. Someone long ago wrote down the instructions and I have them here in the house, in the magic box in my bedroom.” replied the mother.

“Oh, what a happy day! May I read the instructions so that I may repair the bucket?” asked the broken-bucket girl. The step-mother replied, “Of course you can. You must first bring me another 25 buckets of water and you must clean out the sink twice a day. Once you have done that I will let you have access to that page of the magic book. If you’d like to read anything else, you’ll need to bring in more water.” And with that, the older woman poked Votary right in the eyes with her fingers. Votary, however, was able to find the instructions she needed at a neighbor’s house and she did not need to bring any extra water at all. When she told the step-mother of this, the step-mother changed the requirements to only 5 buckets of water and the cleaning of the bird cage. Votary rarely read from the magic box.

The next day, Votary’s step-sisters could be heard clapping and cheering. As Votary stepped outside, she saw that her young twelve-year-old sister was carrying a small bucket of water from the river to the house. The older sisters cheered at the youngest sister, shouting encouragement and suggestions. Each day this repeated, each day the little sister becoming better at carrying her bucket of water. However, one day, the little sister dropped the bucket and yelled out, “Damn!” The older step-sisters were shocked. The youngest sister looked at them and said, “I am sorry, I was distracted. I met a boy down by the river and we spent the afternoon together....” Votary was captured by the words her sister spoke, finding joy in her sister’s new discoveries of life.

“EEEK!” cried the step-sisters. “Stop! Do not talk like that! What happened to the cute little girl?” they asked in unison. And with that they cast a magic spell together which caused the littlest sister to fly up in the air and land in a locked tower far away. The sisters cast such a powerful “evasion spell” that the little sister would not be able to come out of the tower for eighteen more years. When the sisters cast the spell, sparks flew from their fingers. And with that, Votary was struck in the face with fire which left scars upon her visage.

Votary’s father, who was often away, caught up with her the next day. “My dear child! My wife and her daughters tell me of your sour nature. They say you have burns upon your face, bloodshot eyes, a vicious tongue, disheveled hair and dust upon your backside. I must insist that you have more decorum. Don’t you know that these relationships take time? Isn’t your new family full of nice people? Please be polite and clean up your act.” He quickly jumped on his horse. His horse then reared up and galloped away. And with that, he left Votary in a cloud of choking dust.

Votary took the words of her father to heart. She returned to the home and worked as she was told. She developed an idea to cook their dinners faster and easier. She was told that meals could only be made one way and any other method would not create real food. Her step-mother threw the cold meat at Votary, hitting her squarely and painfully in the back.

The very next day there was a grand party in the neighborhood. Her step-laws created fine foods for the party using the very methods Votary had suggested. “Look everyone! Look at our new meats and cheeses! Enjoy the fruits of our labor!” When Votary picked up the meat, the searing juices burned her fingers.

Her mother-in-law saw the pain on Votary’s face. “Oh, dear one. I am sorry that you are so hurt. Perhaps you just need to know how much we love you. Listen as I say it again: I- l-o-v-e -y-o-u. Today, and today only, you just need to bring 50 buckets of water to the house. I hope that eases your pain.”

At last, with her sister locked away, her body burned and battered, her contributions denied, her labor increasing, Votary could take it no more. She packed her bags and set out from the house.

“What is this?” screamed her new family members. With anger they continued, “You must have a secret, you must be out to cash-in on all you have learned with us. How can you leave? You ungrateful wretch. We gave you chocolate and everything.”

Votary walked down the road as one last tomato came hurling at her and splattered across the back of her head. She heard her step-mother yell, “We’re tired of you and your secret agendas!”

Votary walked on from her house tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

The step-family and even her father have provided the moral of the story: Votary is a witless, selfish oaf. She should stay where she is loved by the elders who hit her. Maybe if she just tried harder they wouldn’t have a reason to hurt her. She is a self-centered, angry, blood sucker whose motives are unclear. Maybe once she is 50 she’ll understand that she got hurt because they loved her so much.

...or maybe they are wrong.

The official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.

I Had Forgotten How Good You Are.

"I had forgotten how good you are," they both said.

And it was my fault that they forgot.

Okay, let me see if I can put in writing what I learned this weekend.

Over the weekend, I had a chance to do multiple presentations for an organization. Back in the day, about 10 years ago, I used to work as a storyteller with this group every week, sometimes multiple times per week. For many reasons such as their staff (read that: decision makers) and location change for their group, I had lost touch with many of the members of that organization. I had gotten lazy with my mailing list and dropped people off the list under the assumption that they would not be interested.

Ah, did you see that word in there....assumption....assume "means that you make..." Oh, you know the rest of that one.

Now, this weekend, after many years of not working with this group, I now had a major event with them, primarily because one of my regular sponsors (who is now based at this location) called me and said, "why aren't you coming up to this place anymore?" That put things in motion, contracts were signed and there I was again.

Afterwards, two different people who had seen me work with them "way back when" came up to me separately and said, "I had forgotten how good you are." Although flattered by the evaluations, I asked how come they hadn't been in contact with me for their needs. The both replied that they had lost track of me and that "i stopped getting your mailings so I assumed you weren't doing this anymore."

EEEK!

Yes, I know. They might have used the Internet to find me. A reality check here calls us to remember that not everyone (yet) thinks about the Internet when searching for people they know. And 8-10 years ago folks were barely using Email to communicate let alone Googling storytellers.

Postal mailing still work. These two people judged my availability based on my mailings. How many bookings and good events had I missed because I stopped sending monthly mailings to these two people?

Let's do the math. Let's average a post card, mailed out, to 50 cents each. That's probably too high. Ten years of mailings, 12 months per year gets us 120 mailings. That's $60 each or $120 to both folks over the last 10 years.

How many bookings had I missed in ten years with these potential sponsors because I took them off my mailing list? $120 is a fraction of a single booking. I saved myself $1 per month not mailing to these folks who knew "how good you are" but probably lost several thousand dollars in bookings, coaching and performances. There are also lost relationships and lost chances to promote the Art of Storytelling.

Sigh.

Remember, they did not ask to be removed. I will always remove someone who asks. Rather, I assumed they wouldn't want to hear from me based on the actions of their leadership.

Am I making sense here? Some marketing gurus say that you need at least 50 contacts a year with customers to keep yourself at the top of their minds. I urge my clients to do at least monthly mailings.

And now, I'll urge them to never take a potential sponsor off a list unless asked.

"I had forgotten how good you are," they said.

It was my fault that they forgot.