Take Away the "Take Away."

May I Suggest: Don't always tell people what to think about your stories.

As a Storyteller, you might need to learn to trust that the relationship between you and the audience is something that develops. First, it grows because of your ability to be open and accessible as a teller. Secondly, it grows because your audience is full of competent, life-living human beings. In all actuality, our role as storytellers is to help the audience discover for themselves their own understanding of the subject that we're talking about.

It's easy sometimes to think that when we finish telling a story, and this is especially true in telling personal stories, that we need to tell them why we have talked about the story that we just presented. It's as if we can't quite trust the audience to figure out for themselves what our story might mean in their own lives.

You know this essential truth: our stories must be appropriate for the audience that we're speaking to. If you practice this careful selection of well-crafted tales, then the audience won't struggle with the story that you told them. The time to be concerned about whether or not the audience understands why you are telling a story is in the crafting process. The time to be sure the audience understands is not at the end of telling the story, it's before you stepped on the stage.

When your story connects to world-sized Truths, there is no need for "here's the moral of the story" lecturing. Telling an audience what to think, what to "take away,"  rips the audience out of the transcendent experience of the story. It turns the teller into a preacher or teacher, not a storyteller.

Now there are times, of course, when you are telling stories in a teaching situation. In those roles, your stories will tend to be more didactic, and it's okay to walk the audience through a discussion about why you told the story the way that you told the story. And I would always encourage you to engage anyone who, after you telling, says, "Can we talk about that story?"


 However, I think that for most performance pieces, open-mic storytelling events, or personal storytelling nights, this "take away" habit that people are falling into now (explaining why they told the story) is really detrimental to the art form, to the storyteller and, I believe, to the audience.

Frankly, if you get to the end of your story and you feel you have to explain what the story is about, then you're not doing your deep work in crafting your story in the first place. It's simply too lazy to get to the end of your personal tale and then tell the audience what they should take away from your story. It falls back to, "Show, don't tell."

Let's be clear, your role as a storyteller of personal tales is to be the student of the experience you are describing. You are walking with the audience, not shoving them forward. Be ready to engage with audience members after your story, but start with what in your story resonates with them.

I'd invite you to work more intently on creating well-crafted stories so that the need to explain yourself the end of the story really is not existent. Facilitate understanding, don't preach. You'll be shocked how much you learn.

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The is the official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach. My thanks to the very talented Mark Goldstein for the picture of me performing.

Storytelling Practitioner: Toss Out Expired Stories

A story that was perfect for you once doesn't have to stay perfect for you forever.

Digging through my refrigerator and pantry the other day, I came upon some expired products. These finds are not a unique experience for most of us; there always seems to be that one thing in the back that we just forget about. While some products do well when they age for a bit, others really do become useless.

We store tales, anecdotes and story bits in our mind, too. Have you dug through your stories lately? Take a moment to clear out your own story-storage.

Do you have some stories that have expired? They could look like some of the following.

Do you have stories that you "borrowed" from other artists for which you intended to get permission to tell but never got around to it? Maybe when you started out in your storytelling career, you usurped borrowed these stories while you developed your own.  Now is the time to let go.  Don't eat the last remains in the crusty jar of home-made strawberry jam your friend gave you some time ago. Toss out that perished sweet and learn to make your own. It's not difficult to learn to make your own jam or stories.

You might have some stories you don’t really remember well. Some left-over meatloaf in your icebox can be used to create a fine sandwich, but when you have to ask yourself, "Wait, when did we make this?" it might be time to let go of the loaf. Most storytellers in any setting have bits and pieces of stories they may have told once or twice. Either make a feast with them (my book on that subject) or let them go and clear out some space in your mind. If you like the metaphysical aspect of discussions of storytelling: know that a story might choose you. It might choose to leave you, too. Don't hang on.

Do you have stories that (in a once-upon-a-time stage of your life) fit your lifestyle and beliefs but now when you tell them they just leave you uncomfortable? Like expired food in your fridge, do these old stories still pass the "sniff test?" Old chicken and old stories can both poison you.  Toss them if they aren't right. You can always get more poultry just as you will always get new stories.

Some other expired stories in your life might also include:

• The personal stories (family or life-event stories) that you tell but yet you know (deep in your artist's soul) that the story really isn't a story.  You created the story just to fill time, perhaps, but in truth it is stilted and forced. It's probably expired, toss it. 
• The stories about the lives and hijinks of your family members might also be expired if you tell them without the family member's permission.  Your stories of your cute kids might come back to bug you when those cute kids realize you've been yacking about them just to make a buck at a school show.
• Any story that uses any type of cultural stereotype unless it is of your own cultural heritage and you are guiding the audience through to a better understanding of that culture. This includes, most likely, anything you have ever heard from a youth-leader who had a book of "101 Great Campfire Stories."
• The stories in your life that manipulate your audience. Take the hint: that spoiled can of chicken soup you feed to your guests will make them retch after a while.

Stories do expire. Toss them out of the pantry of your repertoire. Don't tell every story you know.

et cetera: For more about "borrowed stories," see Lynn Ford's good article regarding permission at this link here. For more about salvaging cheesey personal stories (if you really want to save them), see my workshop/book here. Mark Goldman also has an interesting take on "leftovers" from his newsletter, too. For more in my "hardcore storytelling practitioner" series, click this link now.
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The is the official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.