Author:: [[Matthew Dicks and Dan Kennedy]] DateFinished:: 10/12/2022 Rating:: 10 Tags:: # Storyworthy  ## 🚀The Book in 3 Sentences - Telling great stories is one of the best ways to make the world a more interesting place. - Explains not only why you should tell stories, but how to find, craft, tell, and practice them as well. - Start your story with action and location and you will be leaps and bounds above most storytellers. ### 🎨 Impressions - This is one of my favorite books I have ever read. I have read it three times now and plan on reading it again in the future. It's so actionable and so relevant to everyone's life. ### 📖Who Should Read It? - I don't say this often but literally everyone. Not a single person on this planet couldn't benefit from telling betters stories. ### ☘️ How the Book Changed Me - My god I can't summarize this section. I'll try anyways. - It's made me infinitely more interesting in conversation, obviously by making me a much better storyteller. But also because it's given me an eye for what's interesting to tell others. Giving someone an itinerary of your week isn't interesting. Telling them a story is. - It's made me more reflective by journaling more and looking for stories in my life. - It's made me more attentive to when other people tell stories. ### ✍️ My Top 3 Quotes - "The other reason I can recommend storytelling, and learning about it with the book you’re holding, is that we’re all disappearing — you, me, everyone we know and love. A little heavy for a foreword maybe, but when you tell stories, you do yourself a kind favor by taking a moment to write your name in the wet cement of life before you head to whatever is next." - "If I can recommend storytelling to you for any reason at all, it would be that storytelling helps you realize that the biggest, scariest, most painful or regretful things in your head get small and surmountable when you share them with two, or three, or twenty, or three thousand people." - "No one ever made a decision because of a number. They need a story. — Daniel Kahneman" # Main Points > No one ever made a decision because of a number. They need a story. — Daniel Kahneman Most people are terrible at telling stories. Yet storytelling is one of the most intimate ways of conversing with another human being. In this book summary I will discuss Matthew Dicks main points on why you should become a storyteller, and how to find, tell, and practice them. ### Why should we tell stories? 1. It makes life more interesting. Most people have no idea how to converse or tell good stories (see: [[Aidan's Infinite Play 5 What is a Conversation]]). Stop the terrible conversations about the weather, how much sleep you got, and how busy you are. 2. It's the most authentic form of connection. Telling good stories means exposing someone to who you are. Great stories stay with people weeks, months, and years after they are told. 3. It slows time down. When you come at life with a storytelling mindset, life slows down because you are more mindful of what you do in your day. 4. [[Finding and crafting stories creates meaning out of your life]]. 5. [[Before the invention of writing we communicated entirely orally]]. It's only in the last few thousand years that we have transitioned to reading and writing (see: [[Cards/Is Your Second Brain Making Your Forgetful]]). Because of this humans are highly attuned to stories. Learning to tell good stories will help you convince people of things much better. 6. It helps you get rid of the baggage you didn't know you carried. How many events in your life do you ruminate on? Have you tried telling someone? Telling about those events as a story gives a beginning and an end to them. They no longer are an infection that takes over your life. ### What is a story? [[A story is a reflection of change over time]]. That's it. As long as your character or you starts the story one way and ends another, you have a story. If you don't have change over time, you have a drinking story, funny anecdote, fable, folktale, or god forbid a vacation story. ### How do you know if your should tell a story Think about who you are with. What interests do they have? What would resonate with them? What would add value to the conversation? Then make sure your story passes the dinner test. The performance version of your story and the casual dinner party version of your story should be pretty much the same. ## Three Ways to Find Stories Many people don't think they have any stories to tell because they haven't been in a massive plane crash or terrible accident. The funny thing is these are actually the hardest stories to tell. What makes stories resonate with people is they are relatable. Nobody when hearing a story about your plane crash thinks, "man I remember when I was in a plane crash!" The problem is not that you don't have any stories to tell but that you need to know how to find them in the first place. Here are three useful methods Matthew talks about for doing so. ### Homework for Life Homework for life works by asking yourself at the end of every day, "what was the most storyworthy moment of my day." Then you write that down. It can be two words, one sentence, or a whole paragraph. The shorter the better so you actually do it. ### Crash and Burn Crash and Burn is stream of consciousness writing. It works by spending a chunk of time writing anything that comes to mind. Afterward you go through and find interesting memories, anecdotes, or other things that could become parts of a story or full stories themselves. There are three rules: 1. No judgement. Write anything that comes to mind. 2. No holding onto ideas. If an idea comes, you start writing about it no matter what you were writing before. 3. You can't stop moving. Keep writing no matter what. ### First, Last, Best, Worst Take a noun of some sort and think of the first memory you have of that noun, last, best, and worst. Then tell a story about it. Doing this with a few nouns at a time maybe with a spreadsheet can give lots of stories. ## Crafting your Story Once you have found your story, the next part comes with crafting it. ### Finding Your Ending and Beginning ### Five Second Moment Matthew Dick's recommends you start with your ending, your five second moment. The five second moment is the time in your story where your world view shifts in some fundamental way. Your story can only have one five second moment. You might have a memory where your world view shifted in more than one way. It doesn't matter. You can use that memory in one story and the other version with the other five second moment in another. **Everything before your five second moment is there to build up that moment to the biggest emotional effect.** Once you have this moment, your beginning simply becomes a question of what the opposite of your five second moment is. What was your worldview before the transformation. Ideally, you want this to be as close to the five second moment as possible. To open your beginning remember two things: 1. Action 2. Location Start with your character (probably you) doing an action in some location. You don't have to begin with some exposition or thesis statement like so many people do. Great stories are surprise. It's not surprising if you begin your story saying what it's about. As storytellers we have to create a movie in the minds of our audience. If there isn't a location for them to teleport themselves into, this can't happen. **This is why you should always have a physical location for every part of your story.** ### Finding Your Scenes In between your beginning and ending are your scenes. The best stories have varied themes. If you have one anecdote with one type of tone and location, try and make the next anecdote have another type of tone and location. How do you connect your scenes together? The trick is to use *but* and *therefore* instead of *and.* And is the connective tissue most people use for their stories which makes them sound more like a series of loosely connected events rather than a story. But and therefore signal change and are much more compelling to listen to. This is also why telling qualities about yourself in the negative is almost always better than the positive. Things like "I'm not smart, I'm not good looking, and I'm not athletic." Why? Because saying it in this way creates a hidden but. I'm not smart, but I could be. I'm not good looking, but I could be. ### Stakes Stakes are the reason your audience keeps listening to the story. They are the Empire in Start Wars, Sauron in The Lord of The Rings, and the Nazis in Raiders of The Lost Ark. Humor is optional in your stories, stakes are nonnegotiable. ### The Elephant The elephant is a clear statement of the need, the want, the problem, the peril. It signifies that the story has a purpose. It's not some meaningless tangent. Ideally your elephant should be revealed in the first 30 seconds of the story. Your elephant doesn't have to stay the same the entire story. Mathew's favorite stories are the ones in which he changes the color of the elephant. He makes you think the story is about one thing when in reality it's about another. The "laugh laugh cry formula as he calls it." ## Storytelling Strategies Matthew outlines four storytelling strategies you can use in all of your stories for great effect. #### Backpack With a backpack you load up your audience with all of your hopes, emotions, and plans before revealing a big event in your story to make it more powerful. #### Breadcrumbs With a breadcrumb you hint at something later in the story without revealing it outright to make it more powerful when it's importance is revealed later on. #### Hourglass With an hourglass you slow down your story right before a massive emotional event to make the event more powerful when it does happen. #### Crystal Ball With a crystal ball you explicitly predict something will happen in your story to create the expectation it will but then have it not happen. ### The Five Permissible Lies of Storytelling Sometimes storytellers have to bend the truth to make for a better story. This isn't the same as outright lying. Here are the five circumstances it's okay. #### Lie of Omission Purposefully leaving something out of your story that was there in the original memory because it doesn't add to the narrative. #### Lie of Assumption Assuming a piece of information in a story because of inability to remember it. #### Lie of Compression Compressing the time of your story into a narrow frame to heighten the emotional level of the story. #### Lie of Conflation Pushing the emotion of the five second moment into as narrow a time frame as possible to make for a more salient experience. #### Lie of Progression Changing the order of events in a story to make it more storylike. #### How to Tell a Big Story As mentioned earlier, big stories are ironically the hardest to tell because they aren't relatable. No one while hearing you talk about almost dying from a nuclear reactor thinks, "that reminds me of when I almost died from a nuclear reactor." The secret to tell big stories is to make the five second moment about something small. The thing that makes the big story must be the stakes while the true heart of the story should be something universal. Similarly, this is why underdog stories are so much easier to tell then achievement ones. Achievement isn't nearly as relatable as failure. To tell a achievement story without sounding like an asshole, you have to downplay your achievement and create a struggle that you overcame. ### Surprise Matthew believes the only way to elicit a genuine emotional response is to surprise the audience. Here are his best tips for effectively doing so: 1. Avoid thesis statements in storytelling. 2. Heighten the contrast between the surprise and the moment just before the surprise. One great way to do this is through laughter. Make the audience laugh before they cry. 3. Use stakes to increase surprise. 4. Avoid giving away the surprise in your story by hiding important information that will pay off later (planting bombs). This is done by: - Obscuring them in a list of other details or examples. - Placing them as far away from the surprise as possible. - When possible, building a laugh around them to further camouflage their importance. ## Humor Humor in storytelling isn't as necessary as having a five second moment or stakes but it almost always helps when you can include it. But when and how should you make your audience laugh? ### When There are four moments that Matthew tries to have his audience laugh. 1. At the beginning of the story 2. Right before an emotional moment 3. Right after 4. At the end Matthew believes, however, that you should always end on heart. This is the reason stories are different from stand up comedy or folk tales or terrible vacation stories. They stay with you for weeks, months, and years after you hear them. ### How ##### Milk Cans and a Baseball Works by loading up a ton of language to build a tower and then crashing it all down with the funniest thing last. ##### Specificity It's more funny to say, "I stubbed my toe while eating a Raisin Bran cereal" then "I hurt myself eating cereal." ##### Exaggeration Obvious. ##### Babies and Blenders Works by saying a few things that are related in some way and then something that doesn't fit what so ever. ##### Profanity Profanity is fine when there is nothing better to use in the situation then profanity. Your story should never rely on it. ### Present and Past Tense Most people are used to telling stories in the past sense. It makes sense! Stories happened in the past. But Matthew explains the present tense can make the audience feel more with you in the moment you are telling the story. He likes to use present tense when he wants the audience to be with him during an emotional moment and switches to past when he's telling backstory. ### You Have an Obligation to be Entertaining If you implement even a few of these tips into the next time you tell a story, you will be better than 99% of people at storytelling. Which is great because guess what? You have an obligation to be entertaining. Anytime you are interacting with someone, you are taking away their time to speak with them. It's your job to make it worth it. The world is full of boring people. But through the power of storytelling you can make it so much more. I genuinely believe you can turn most meetings, dinner conversations, study sessions, and more into an enjoyable experience. What it takes is telling great stories. ## Highlights If I can recommend storytelling to you for any reason at all, it would be that storytelling helps you realize that the biggest, scariest, most painful or regretful things in your head get small and surmountable when you share them with two, or three, or twenty, or three thousand people. The other reason I can recommend storytelling, and learning about it with the book you’re holding, is that we’re all disappearing — you, me, everyone we know and love. A little heavy for a foreword maybe, but when you tell stories, you do yourself a kind favor by taking a moment to write your name in the wet cement of life before you head to whatever is next. This is a much more selfless act than conventional wisdom would have you believe. It’s a little like leaving a note in the logbook on the trail that others will be hiking after you, a note that might give the next hiker a clue: “Keep your eyes open for rattlesnakes by the bluff at the two-mile mark” or “There’s fresh water at the fire lookout if you’re running low” ([Location 169](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=169)) ### Part I Finding Your Story No one ever made a decision because of a number. They need a story. — Daniel Kahneman ([Location 456](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=456)) - Note: Humans are notoriously bad at thinking statistically. It’s a human need to be told stories. The more we’re governed by idiots and have no control over our destinies, the more we need to tell stories to each other about who we are, why we are, where we come from, and what might be possible. — Alan Rickman ([Location 461](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=461)) Let’s also be clear that when I talk about storytelling, I am speaking about personal narrative. True stories told by the people who lived them. This is very different than the traditional fable or folktale that many people associate with the word storytelling. While folktales and fables are entertaining and can teach us about universal truths and important life lessons, there is power in personal storytelling that folktales and fables will never possess. ([Location 560](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=560)) Your story must reflect change over time. A story cannot simply be a series of remarkable events. You must start out as one version of yourself and end as something new. ([Location 580](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=580)) - Note: Stories that’s int reflect change are anecdotes, drinking stories, vacation stories. Matt’s Five Rules of Drinking Stories         1.   No one will ever care about your drinking stories as much as you.         2.   Drinking stories never impress the type of people who one wants to impress.         3.   If you have more than three excellent drinking stories from your entire life, you are incorrect in your estimation of an excellent drinking story.         4.   Even the best drinking stories are seriously compromised if told during the daytime and/or at the workplace.         5.   A drinking story about a moment when you were over the age of forty is often sad, pathetic, and even tragic except under the following circumstances:               •  It is absolutely your best drinking story of all time.               •  The storyteller is over seventy. Drinking stories about the elderly are acceptable in any form, because they are rare and oftentimes hilarious. ([Location 589](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=589)) Matt’s Three Rules of Vacation Stories         1.   No one wants to hear about your vacation.         2.   If someone asks to hear about your vacation, they are being polite. See rule #1.         3.   If you had a moment that was actually storyworthy while you were on vacation, that is a story that should be told. But it should not include the quality of the local cuisine or anything related to the beauty or charm of the destination. ([Location 603](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=603)) You must tell your own story and not the stories of others. People would rather hear the story about what happened to you last night than about what happened to your friend Pete last night, even if Pete’s story is better than your own. There is immediacy and grit and inherent vulnerability in hearing the story of someone standing before you. It is visceral and real. It takes no courage to tell Pete’s story. It requires no hard truth or authentic self. This doesn’t mean that you can’t tell someone else’s story. It simply means you must make the story about yourself. You must tell your side of the story. ([Location 611](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=611)) Don’t tell other people’s stories. Tell your own. But feel free to tell your side of other people’s stories, as long as you are the protagonist in these tales. ([Location 660](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=660)) Lastly, the story must pass the Dinner Test. The Dinner Test is simply this: Is the story that you craft for the stage, the boardroom, the sales conference, or the Sunday sermon similar to the story you would tell a friend at dinner? This should be the goal. The performance version of your story and the casual, dinner-party version of your story should be kissing cousins. Different, for sure, but not terribly different. This means that you should not build in odd hand gestures. When I see a storyteller mime the birth of an idea with hands that flutter like butterfly wings over their head, I think, “You would never do that at the dinner table. Why now? This isn’t a theatrical production. You’re just telling a story.” ([Location 695](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=695)) The performance version of your story and the casual, dinner-party version of your story should be kissing cousins. ([Location 697](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=697)) They want to feel that they are being told a story. They don’t want to see someone perform a story. The audience and the storyteller find a common space in between the extemporaneous and the memorized, and this is where the best stories ideally reside. ([Location 722](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=722)) I decided that at the end of every day, I’d reflect upon my day and ask myself one simple question: If I had to tell a story from today — a five-minute story onstage about something that took place over the course of this day — what would it be? As benign and boring and inconsequential as it might seem, what was the most storyworthy moment from my day? I decided not to write the entire story down, because to do so would require too much time and effort. As desperate as I was for stories, even I wouldn’t be able to commit to writing a full story every day, especially if it wasn’t all that compelling. Instead I would write a snippet. A sentence or two that captured the moment from the day. Just enough for me to remember the moment and recall it clearly on a later date. ([Location 813](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=813)) - Note: Homework for life I had to tell a story from today — a five-minute story onstage about something that took place over the course of this day — what would it be? As benign and boring and inconsequential as it might seem, what was the most storyworthy moment from my day? ([Location 814](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=814)) By creating a system requiring that I write only a few sentences a day, I was also sure that I’d never miss a day, and this is important. Miss one day, and you’ll allow yourself to miss two. Miss two days, and you’ll skip a week. Skip a week and you’re no longer doing your Homework for Life. ([Location 875](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=875)) I never expected any of this to happen. In searching for stories, I discovered that my life is filled with them. Filled with precious moments that once seemed decidedly less than precious. Filled with moments that are more storyworthy than I’d ever imagined. I’d just been failing to notice them. Or discounting them. Or ignoring them. In some instances, I tried to forget them completely. Now I can see them. I can’t help but see them. They are everywhere. I collect them. Record them. Craft them. I tell them onstage. I share them on the golf course and to dinner companions. But most important, I hold them close to my heart. They are my most treasured possessions. ([Location 977](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=977)) There’s an added bonus to Homework for Life. It’s unrelated to storytelling, but it’s worth mentioning. It might just be the most important reason to do the exercise. As you begin to take stock of your days, find those moments — see them and record them — time will begin to slow down for you. The pace of your life will relax. We live in a day and age when people constantly say things like:         Time flies.         That last school year went by in the blink of an eye.         I can’t even remember what I did last Thursday.         I feel like my twenties went by in a flash. I used to feel the same way. Then I started doing Homework for Life, and the world slowed down for me. Days creep by at remarkably slow speeds. Weeks feel like months. Months feel like years. ([Location 1047](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1047)) As you begin to take stock of your days, find those moments — see them and record them — time will begin to slow down for you. The pace of your life will relax. ([Location 1048](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1048)) - Note: When you do homework for life, your days become much slower because your aware of what’s happening throughout. There are meaningful, life-changing moments happening in your life all the time. That dander in the wind will blow by you for the rest of your life unless you learn to see it, capture it, hold on to it, and find a way to keep it in your heart forever. ([Location 1112](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1112)) Essentially Crash & Burn is stream-of-consciousness writing. I like to think of it as dreaming on the end of your pen, because when it’s working well, it will mimic the free-associative thought patterns that so many of us experience while dreaming. Stream of consciousness is the act of speaking or writing down whatever thought that enters your mind, regardless of how strange, incongruous, or even embarrassing it may be. People have been utilizing stream-of-consciousness strategies for a long time, beginning first with psychologists in the late nineteenth century. In the twentieth century, these strategies were adopted by writers and thinkers as a means of generating new ideas. Entire novels have been written to mimic stream-of-consciousness thinking. ([Location 1190](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1190)) - Note: One exercise to generate more ideas about writing Rule #1: You must not get attached to any one idea. The goal of Crash & Burn is to allow unexpected ideas to intersect and overrun current ones, just as that rain-drenched corner of Main Street with my dog produced an important revelation about my father and a memory of sex on a golf course. Two intersecting ideas crashed into and overran the meaningful moment that I was experiencing with Kaleigh. So, regardless of how intriguing or compelling your current idea may be, you must release it immediately when a new idea comes crashing in, even if your new idea seems decidedly less compelling than the original one. When Crash & Burn is at its best, ideas are constantly crashing the party, slashing and burning the previous ones. It’s in these intersections of ideas that new ideas and memories are unearthed. ([Location 1198](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1198)) - Note: The first rule of crash and burn Rule #2: You must not judge any thought or idea that appears in your mind. Everything must land on the page, regardless of how ridiculous, nonsensical, absurd, or humiliating it may be. Similarly, grammar, punctuation, and capitalization are meaningless. Penmanship is irrelevant. ([Location 1205](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1205)) - Note: The second rule of crash and burn Rule #3: You cannot allow the pen to stop moving. I say pen because, although I do almost all my writing on a keyboard, I have found that engaging in Crash & Burn with a pen tends to trigger greater creativity (and there is some science to support this claim). But if you must use a keyboard, go for it. Either way, your hand or fingers cannot stop moving. You must continue writing words even when your mind is empty. To make this happen, I use colors. When I have no other thought in my mind, I begin listing colors on the page until one of them triggers a thought or memory. ([Location 1221](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1221)) - Note: The third rule of crash and burn Once I’ve finished with a session, I look back and pull out threads that are worth saving. Story ideas. Anecdotes for future stories. Memories that I want to record. New ideas. Interesting thoughts. Here is an annotated look at what I produced in those ten minutes: Grape. Grape juice. White grape juice / When I was a kid I stepped on a broken Mello Yello glass bottle and cut my foot — got infected — happened by a pond / ([Location 1267](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1267)) - Note: At the end of crash and burn ten minute sessions you pull out salient writing ideas. They can fill in the forgotten moments of your life while expanding your previously perceived boundaries. Moments that once lacked meaning and relevance can suddenly be recognized as critical and essential to your life story. ([Location 1493](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1493)) - Note: One of the most powerful things about storytelling is it creates meaning out of periods of your life you previously thought there were none. I’ve given you three tools to find stories.         •     Homework for Life         •     Crash & Burn         •     First Last Best Worst Do all three with regularity and fidelity, and you will find yourself drowning in stories before long. Your list of potential stories will grow beyond your ability to tell them all. What a wonderful problem to have. ([Location 1656](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1656)) ### Part II Crafting Your Story All great stories — regardless of length or depth or tone — tell the story of a five-second moment in a person’s life. ([Location 1757](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1757)) So dig. Search. Hunt. Fight for the five-second moment. Allow yourself to recall the entire event. Don’t get hung up on the big moments, the unbelievable circumstances, or the hilarious details. Seek out the moments when you felt your heart move. When something changed forever, even if that moment seems minuscule compared to the rest of the story. That will be your five-second moment. Until you have it, you don’t have a story. When you find it, you’re ready to begin crafting your story. ([Location 1972](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=1972)) Knowing your ending is a good thing. When I write fiction, I have no idea where my story is going to end. As odd as it may sound, I have never accurately predicted how any of my novels were going to conclude, and many novelists operate similarly. John Irving claims to always know his last sentence before beginning a novel, but I’m not sure if I believe him. Even if I do, he’s John Irving. For us common folk, writing is often the means to the end. We discover the conclusions and resolutions through the process of writing the book. ([Location 2014](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2014)) But when telling true stories about our lives, we always start with the ending, because we’re not making stuff up. We’re not hoping to invent the perfect combination of action, description, and dialogue. We’re telling the truth, so even if we’re not entirely sure of how to tell our ending — which combination of action, dialogue, and description will best capture that five-second moment — we know what happened. We know the who, what, where, and when, and we probably know the why (though that can sometimes come later). We know what our five-second moment is, and therefore that is where we begin the process of crafting our story. We start at the end. ([Location 2018](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2018)) the ending simply involves the choice of words you will use. How will you describe your five-second moment for the greatest emotional effect? ([Location 2025](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2025)) Once you’ve distilled your five-second moment down to its essence, ask yourself: What is the opposite of your five-second moment? Simply put, the beginning of the story should be the opposite of the end. ([Location 2034](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2034)) Simply ask yourself what the opposite of the first fifteen minutes of a movie is, and you will almost always have your ending. ([Location 2099](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2099)) They need to show a variety of contexts in which hunger and shame ruled my life. Ideally, at least one will be funny and one will be heartrending. I’d like them to take place in a variety of settings. I’d love for at least one to echo something at the end of my story. ([Location 2173](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2173)) - Note: When searching for anecdotes to support your story you want emotional and physical variety. This is more interesting for the listener. Less effective storytellers latch onto the first thing that comes to mind rather than making a list of anecdotes, analyzing them for content, tone, the potential for humor, and connectivity to the story before deciding. I also believe that great storytellers know this: The first idea is rarely the best idea. It may be the most convenient idea. ([Location 2176](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2176)) I also try to start my story as close to the end as possible (a rule Kurt Vonnegut followed when writing short stories). I want my stories to be as temporally limited as possible. I strive for simplicity at all times. By starting as close to the end as possible, we shorten our stories. We avoid unnecessary setup. We eliminate superfluous details. ([Location 2184](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2184)) A written story is like a lake. Readers can step in and out of the water at their leisure, and the water always remains the same. This stillness and permanence allow for pausing, rereading, contemplation, and the use of outside sources to help with meaning. It also allows the reader to control the speed at which the story is received. An oral story is like a river. It is a constantly flowing torrent of words. When listeners need to step outside of the river to ponder a detail, wonder about something that confuses them, or attempt to make meaning, the river continues to flow. When the listener finally steps back into the river, he or she is behind. The water that has flowed by will never be seen again, and as a result, the listener is constantly chasing the story, trying to catch up. ([Location 2228](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2228)) - Note: Written stories have more room for supporting extraneous detail. Oral stories need to be simplified as much as possible. To keep your listener from stepping out of your river of words to make meaning, simplification is essential. Starting as close to the end as possible helps to make this happen. ([Location 2234](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2234)) 1. Try to start your story with forward movement whenever possible. Establish yourself as a person who is physically moving through space. Opening with forward movement creates instant momentum in a story. It makes the audience feel that we’re already on our way, immersed in the world you are moving us through. We’re going somewhere important. ([Location 2286](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2286)) - Note: The first tip for choosing an opening Establish yourself as a person who is physically moving through space. Opening with forward movement creates instant momentum in a story. ([Location 2287](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2287)) 2. Don’t start by setting expectations. Listen to people in the world tell you stories. Often they start with a sentence like, “This is hilarious,” or “You need to hear this,” or “You’re not going to believe this.” This is always a mistake, for three reasons. ([Location 2289](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2289)) - Note: The second rule to finding an opening for your story. The three reasons for why this is bad: 1. First, it establishes potentially unrealistic expectations. 2. Second, starting your story with a thesis statement reduces your chances of surprising your audience. 3. Third, these are simply not interesting ways to start a story. Start with the story, not with a summary of the story. There is no need to describe the tone or tenor at the onset. Just start with story, and whenever possible, open with movement. ([Location 2303](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2303)) Simply defined, stakes are the reason audiences listen and continue to listen to a story. Stakes answer questions like:         •     What does the storyteller want or need?         •     What is at peril?         •     What is the storyteller fighting for or against?         •     What will happen next?         •     How is this story going to turn out? Stakes are the reason an audience wants to hear your next sentence. They are the difference between a story that grabs the audience by the throat and holds on tight and one that an audience can take or leave. Stakes are the difference between someone telling you about their mother and someone telling you about the time they wanted to disown their mother. ([Location 2443](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2443)) Stakes are the Nazis and the snakes in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Darth Vader and his storm troopers in Star Wars. The iceberg in Titanic. The dinosaurs of Jurassic Park. Stakes are the reason we listen to stories when video games and pizza and sex exist in the world. We could be doing any one of these things, but we listen to stories because we want to know what happens next. In the best stories, we want to hear the next sentence. And the sentence after that. And the sentence after that. ([Location 2456](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2456)) The Elephant is the thing that everyone in the room can see. It is large and obvious. It is a clear statement of the need, the want, the problem, the peril, or the mystery. ([Location 2496](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2496)) - Note: The elephant signifies the story isn’t some musing or tangent. The audience doesn’t know why they are listening to the story or what is to come, so it’s easy to stop listening. If you don’t present a reason to listen very early on, you risk losing their attention altogether. The Elephant tells the audience what to expect. It gives them a reason to listen, a reason to wonder. It infuses the story with instantaneous stakes. The Elephant should appear as early in the story as possible. Ideally, it should appear within the first minute, and if you can say it within the first thirty seconds, even better. ([Location 2505](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2505)) I don’t care how perfect my mother was. When I was nine years old, I wanted to disown her. Leave home and never return. Forget she ever existed. My mother was the kind of woman whom everyone adored. The model of decorum and civility. She served as PTO president and treasurer of the ladies’ auxiliary. She was the only female umpire in our town’s Little League. She baked and knit and grew vegetables by the pound. ([Location 2515](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2515)) - Note: An effective use of putting the elephant of the story early on Elephants can also change color. That is, the need, want, problem, peril, or mystery stated in the beginning of the story can change along the way. You may be offered one expectation only to have it pulled away in favor of another. Start with a gray Elephant. End with a pink one. ([Location 2533](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2533)) This is an excellent storytelling strategy: make your audience think they are on one path, and then when they least expect it, show them that they have been on a different path all along. ([Location 2544](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2544)) - Note: The is known as changing the color of the elephant. Changing the Elephant’s color provides an audience with one of the greatest surprises that a storyteller has to offer. My wife has often said that this is my preferred model for storytelling, and she’s right. I’m always most excited about a story when I can change the color of the Elephant. “The laugh laugh laugh cry formula,” she calls it. The audience thinks they are in the midst of a hilarious caper, and then they suddenly realize that this story is not what they expected. This method of storytelling is especially effective when the end of your story is heavy, emotional, sorrowful, or heartrending. ([Location 2549](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2549)) A Backpack is a strategy that increases the stakes of the story by increasing the audience’s anticipation about a coming event. It’s when a storyteller loads up the audience with all the storyteller’s hopes and fears in that moment before moving the story forward. ([Location 2598](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2598)) - Note: I do this in Dating tennis when I load up all the emotions I’m feeling before asking the girl out. In “Charity Thief,” I stick a Backpack on my audience when I describe my plan for begging for money before entering the gas station. I say: So I make a plan. I’m going to beg for gas, because it’s 1991. Gas is eighty-five cents a gallon, so eight dollars is all I need to get me home. I’ll offer my license, my wallet, everything in my car as collateral in exchange for eight dollars’ worth of gas and the promise that I will return and repay the money and more. Whatever it takes. So I rehearse my pitch, take a deep breath, and walk in. ([Location 2606](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2606)) Storytellers use Breadcrumbs when we hint at a future event but only reveal enough to keep the audience guessing. ([Location 2637](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2637)) - Note: I use breadcrumbs in dating tennis when I say the sky doesn’t look good at the beginning. The trick is to choose the Breadcrumbs that create the most wonder in the minds of your audience without giving them enough to guess correctly. ([Location 2653](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2653)) There comes a time in many stories when you reached a moment (or the moment) that the audience has been waiting for. Perhaps you have paved the way to the moment with Breadcrumbs and Backpacks, or maybe you’ve used none of these strategies because you’ve got yourself a stake-laden story, and now you’re approaching the payoff. The sentence you’ve been waiting to say. The sentence your audience has been waiting to hear. This is the moment to use an Hourglass. It’s time to slow things down. Grind them to a halt when possible. When you know the audience is hanging on your every word, let them hang. Drag out the wait as long as possible. ([Location 2657](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2657)) - Tags: - Note: What is using an hourglass in storytelling? Making the audience wait at the climax of your story by purposefully dragging it out to make it more emotional. When you know the audience is hanging on your every word, let them hang. Drag out the wait as long as possible. ([Location 2661](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2661)) - Note: This is known as the hourglass strategy. The Crystal Ball is the easiest of the strategies to deploy, because you already use Crystal Balls in everyday life. A Crystal Ball is a false prediction made by a storyteller to cause the audience to wonder if the prediction will prove to be true. In “Charity Thief,” I say: [The man] points his finger at me and says, “You stay right there.” Then he walks back into his house, and I know what he’s doing. He’s calling the police, and they will come and arrest me for stealing money from McDonald’s. ([Location 2708](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2708)) - Tags: - Note: What is a crystal ball in storytelling? A Crystal Ball is a false prediction made by a storyteller to cause the audience to wonder if the prediction will prove to be true. A Crystal Ball is a false prediction made by a storyteller to cause the audience to wonder if the prediction will prove to be true. ([Location 2709](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2709)) Humor is optional. Stakes are nonnegotiable. ([Location 2757](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2757)) The Five Permissible Lies of Storytelling ([Location 2847](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2847)) Lie #1: Omission ([Location 2848](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2848)) The longer that story lingers in the hearts and minds of our audience, the better the story. ([Location 2933](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2933)) When I write novels, I try to end my story about ten pages before the reader would want the book to end. In that way, I’m also putting a coat on my audience. ([Location 2941](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2941)) Lie #2: Compression ([Location 2953](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2953)) Compression is used when storytellers want to push time and space together in order to make the story easier to comprehend, visualize, and tell. ([Location 2954](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2954)) Lie #3: Assumption ([Location 2978](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2978)) Storytellers use assumption when there is a detail so important to the story that it must be stated with specificity, so the storyteller makes a reasonable assumption about what the specifics may be. ([Location 2979](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2979)) Lie #4: Progression ([Location 2992](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2992)) A lie of progression is when a storyteller changes the order of events in a story to make it more emotionally satisfying or comprehensible to the listener. ([Location 2992](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=2992)) Lie #5: Conflation ([Location 3013](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3013)) Storytellers use conflation to push all the emotion of an event into a single time frame, because stories are more entertaining this way. ([Location 3014](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3014)) A great storyteller creates a movie in the minds of the audience. ([Location 3111](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3111)) Always provide a physical location for every moment of your story. ([Location 3133](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3133)) My grandmother’s name is Odelie Dicks, which probably explains why she is who she is. She’s a crooked old lady in both body and mind. She wears only dark colors and likes to serve food that has stewed in pots for days. I like to imagine that there was a time in her life when she smiled — or at least didn’t scowl — but if that time existed, it was long before me. ([Location 3144](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3144)) - Note: A story without a location attached. It feels like you are floating in space while being told it. I’m standing at the edge of my grandmother’s garden, watching her relentlessly pull weeds from the unforgiving soil. My grandmother’s name is Odelie Dicks, which probably explains why she is who she is. She’s a crooked old lady in both body and mind. She wears only dark colors and likes to serve food that has stewed in pots for days. I like to imagine that there was a time in her life when she smiled — or at least didn’t scowl — but if that time existed, it was long before me. ([Location 3147](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3147)) - Note: A story with a location. Even though there is a lot of exposition you have somewhere to place yourself in while it’s happening. A clear majority of human beings tend to connect their sentences, paragraphs, and scenes together with the word and. This is a mistake. The ideal connective tissue in any story are the words but and therefore, along with all their glorious synonyms. These buts and therefores can be either explicit or implied. ([Location 3303](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3303)) “And” stories have no movement or momentum. They are equivalent to running on a treadmill. Sentences and scenes appear, one after another, but the movement is straightforward and unsurprising. The momentum is unchanged. But and therefore are words that signal change. The story was heading in one direction, but now it’s heading in another. We started out zigging, but now we are zagging. We did this, and therefore this new thing happened. ([Location 3306](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3306)) I started teaching this technique in workshops, and my students adopted it quickly. As my students’ ands became buts and therefores, their stories improved almost immediately. Performances that felt flat and lukewarm suddenly had an energy and spirit to them that had previously been unrealized. Students reported that using this technique also helped them craft their stories. They suddenly had a better sense of direction. They could better determine how the next scene should open. One student said, “I feel like I know where to go next in my stories. When I’m stuck, I just look for the but and the therefore.” ([Location 3393](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3393)) Oddly, the negative is almost always better than the positive when it comes to storytelling. Saying what something or someone is not is almost always better than saying what something or someone is. For example:         I am dumb, ugly, and unpopular.         I’m not smart, I’m not at all good-looking, and no one likes me. The second sentence is better, isn’t it? Here’s why: it contains a hidden but. ([Location 3420](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3420)) The second sentence really says this: I could be smart, but I’m dumb. I could be good-looking, but I’m ugly. I could be popular, but no one likes me. ([Location 3428](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3428)) “This Is Going to Suck” is what I call a big story. When you are brought back to life in the back of an ambulance, that’s big. Here’s the surprising thing: despite what most people think, these are the hardest stories to tell. You’d think that a head-on collision, dying, and coming back to life would be easy to tell about, full of high stakes, drama, and excitement, but remember: The goal of storytelling is to connect with your audience, whether it’s one person at the dinner table or two thousand people in a theater. Storytelling is not about a roller-coaster ride of excitement. It’s about bridging the gap between you and another person by creating a space of authenticity, vulnerability, and universal truth. ([Location 3552](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3552)) This is the trick to telling a big story: it cannot be about anything big. Instead we must find the small, relatable, comprehensible moments in our larger stories. We must find the piece of the story that people can connect to, relate to, and understand. ([Location 3599](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3599)) In storytelling, you should always try to say less. Shorter is better. Fewer words rule. ([Location 3669](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3669)) When it comes to storytelling, I believe that surprise is the only way to elicit an emotional reaction from your audience. Whether it’s laughter, tears, anger, sadness, outrage, or any other emotional response, the key is surprise. ([Location 3740](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3740)) - Note: This reminds me of changing the color of the elephant talked about before. “This is a story about a time in my life when my friends became my family.” “This is a story about a car accident so serious that it took my life, if only for a moment.” “This is the story of a waiting room full of surprise guests.” It sounds ridiculous, I know, but this is done all the time, both onstage and in less formal situations. People feel the need to open their stories with thesis statements, either in an effort to grab the audience’s attention with a loaded statement or (more likely) because this is how they were taught to write in school: thesis statement, followed by supporting evidence and details. But storytelling is the reverse of the five-paragraph essay. Instead of opening with a thesis statement and then supporting it with evidence, storytellers provide the evidence first and then sometimes offer the thesis statement later only when necessary. This is how we allow for surprise. ([Location 3789](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3789)) People feel the need to open their stories with thesis statements, either in an effort to grab the audience’s attention with a loaded statement or (more likely) because this is how they were taught to write in school: thesis statement, followed by supporting evidence and details. ([Location 3792](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3792)) Remember in “Charity Thief” when I put a Backpack on my audience before I enter that gas station? I describe my plan for begging for gas in great detail. It sounds like a plausible idea. Probable, even. My audience is rooting for me. They expect me to get the gas I need. I know this because when I tell this story in workshops, I see the same reaction every time I say, “But the kid won’t give me the gas.” Shoulders slump. Faces contort in anger. People groan. They shake their heads in disgust. They experience an emotional reaction very similar to the one I experienced that day. Why? They are surprised. They wanted my plan to work. They expected it to work. It sounds like something that should have worked. ([Location 3816](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3816)) - Note: Take advantage of stakes to accentuate surprise As storytellers, we must hide pertinent information from our audiences to allow the surprise to pay off later. I often refer to this as planting a bomb in a story that will explode when the time is right. ([Location 3835](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3835)) - Note: This reminds me of breadcrumbs. We hide these important moments by making them seem unimportant. We do this by hiding critical information among other details. ([Location 3841](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3841)) Laughter is the best camouflage, because it is also an emotional response, and audience members assume that the laugh is the result of the storyteller’s wanting to be funny. ([Location 3855](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3855)) To review, the strategies for preserving and enhancing surprise in a story:         1.    Avoid thesis statements in storytelling.         2.    Heighten the contrast between the surprise and the moment just before the surprise.         3.    Use stakes to increase surprise.         4.    Avoid giving away the surprise in your story by hiding important information that will pay off later (planting bombs). This is done by:              •   Obscuring them in a list of other details or examples.              •   Placing them as far away from the surprise as possible.              •   When possible, building a laugh around them to further camouflage their importance. ([Location 3925](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3925)) Heighten the contrast between the surprise and the moment just before the surprise. ([Location 3928](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3928)) Placing them as far away from the surprise as possible. ([Location 3935](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3935)) - Note: A strategy for hiding critical elements of a story for surprise later on. Stories should never only be funny. The best ones are those that use humor strategically. Ideally you want your audience to experience a range of emotions over the course of your story. You can’t achieve this if your audience is laughing for the entire time. ([Location 3977](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3977)) This is the difference between storytelling and stand-up comedy. Imagine: You attend a fantastic night of stand-up comedy. The next day your coworker says, “Tell me some of the jokes you heard.” Oftentimes you can’t. Maybe you remember bits and pieces of a few, but unless you saw a comic like Louis C.K., who bases his comedy in storytelling (and was honored by The Moth for his promotion of it), you can’t reproduce many jokes, and probably none at all. The comic makes you feel good. You laugh all night. But the content doesn’t stick. A week later, you probably won’t remember a single thing from the show. A story, however, can stay with you for the rest of your life. ([Location 3979](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3979)) A story, however, can stay with you for the rest of your life. There are books, movies, television programs, and hopefully oral stories that you will remember until the day you die. There are lots of reasons for this, but one is that great storytelling isn’t a single thing. Stories aren’t only funny. The best ones take you on an emotional journey, always landing somewhere in the heart, and that leaves an indelible mark that stand-up comedy cannot. ([Location 3985](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3985)) The first time I try to make the audience laugh is at the start of the story. ([Location 3994](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3994)) A laugh at the beginning does these three things:         1.    It signals to the audience: “I’m a good storyteller. I know what I’m doing. You can relax.”         2.    In a small, less formal situation, this early laugh will serve as a stop sign for potential interruptions. It serves as an unspoken signal that you have the floor. In fact, whenever faced with a person who cannot stop interrupting, I will often try to make the people around us laugh (never at the expense of the interrupter) to reassert my control over the space. “I made them laugh. I’ve got the floor. Let me finish, damn it.”         3.    An early laugh lets the audience know that regardless of how serious, intense, or disturbing the story I am telling may be, I’m okay now. “I made you laugh. Everything is fine. ([Location 3998](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=3998)) The second time I make the audience laugh is just before the actual accident. ([Location 4025](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4025)) The third time I make the audience laugh is immediately following the accident. ([Location 4033](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4033)) The last time I make the audience laugh is near the end of the story, ([Location 4045](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4045)) You must end your story on heart. Far too often I hear storytellers attempt to end their story on a laugh. A pun. A joke. A play on words. This is not why we listen to stories. We like to laugh; we want to laugh. But we listen to stories to be moved. ([Location 4070](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4070)) Milk Cans and a Baseball refers to the carnival game where metallic milk cans are stacked in a triangular formation and the player attempts to knock them down with a ball. ... The trick is to work to the laugh by using language that carefully builds your tower while saving the funniest thing for last. ([Location 4088](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4088)) Some words are just funny. It’s well known that words with the K sound are funny. Words like cattywampus, cankles, kuku, caca, and pickle are funny just because of that hard K sound (though I think pickle is funny even without the K sound). ([Location 4119](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4119)) Oddly specific words are also funny. It’s funnier for me to say, “I’m pouring water over Raisin Bran because I am too stupid and lazy to buy milk” than it is to say, “I’m pouring water over a bowl of cereal.” Why? Specificity is funny. ([Location 4124](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4124)) Babies and Blenders is the idea that when two things that rarely or never go together are pushed together, humor often results. ([Location 4127](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4127)) My favorite example of Babies and Blenders is an old Sesame Street game called “One of These Things Is Not Like the Other.” Storytellers play this game in their stories all the time by creating a list of three descriptors, with the third being nothing like the other two. My favorite storyteller in the world — Steve Zimmer — does this in a story entitled “Neighborhood Watch.” After Steve’s family is not invited to the neighborhood Hawaiian luau, they decide to host the Zimmer family barbecue, which features “Zimmers, pineapple-flavored ham, and despair.” One of those things is not like the others, and the result is a big laugh. ([Location 4146](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4146)) Exaggeration is another form of Babies and Blenders. We push an unreasonable description against something that doesn’t normally fit that description, and a laugh is the result. ([Location 4153](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4153)) Humor can be an enormous and essential asset to storytelling. Most people want to tell a funny story, and with some strategic crafting and execution, most can. But remember that humor is not necessary. There are many great stories that are entirely humorless but are still highly effective and beloved. Humor is optional. Heart is nonnegotiable. ([Location 4163](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4163)) “Eddie in a Bathtub” was an important moment in my life, but I had no idea why. In these cases, my advice to storytellers is always the same: Tell your story. Speak it aloud. Don’t worry about stakes or lies or anything else. Don’t fret over where to start or finish. Just tell the story as honestly and completely as possible. Spill out all the details. Tell the overly detailed version of your story. Through this process, you will often discover (or rediscover) its meaning. You’ll come to understand the importance of your five-second moment. ([Location 4221](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4221)) Stories can never be about two things. ([Location 4237](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4237)) This is because of what you already know: The ending of the story — your five-second moment — will tell you what the beginning of your story should be. The beginning will be the opposite of the end. ([Location 4239](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4239)) The other way of discovering the meaning of a moment is to ask yourself why you do the things you do. ([Location 4263](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4263)) Bruce Springsteen once said in an interview: “Most people’s stage personas are created out of the flotsam and jetsam of their internal geography and they’re trying to create something that solves a series of very complex problems inside of them or in their history.” I heard that and thought, “Yes.” It was the kind of yes that filled every cell of my body. Not yes. Yes. Storytellers seek to constantly make meaning from their lives. We contextualize events, find satisfying endings to periods of our lives, and struggle to explain how our lives make sense and fit into a larger story. ([Location 4300](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4300)) This is the magic of the present tense. It creates a sense of immediacy. Even though you are reading these words in bed or by the light of a roaring fire or perhaps naked in your bathtub, a part of you, maybe, is on this train with me, staring at a little boy who desperately needs to pee. The present tense acts like a temporal magnet, sucking you into whatever time I want you to occupy. It allows me to put you on an Amtrak train somewhere in central New Jersey in the summer of 2017 or in my 1976 Chevy Malibu on a lonely highway in New Hampshire in the fall of 1991 or in a chaotic emergency room on December 23, 1988. The present tense will bring you a little closer to these moments in time. It may even trick you into believing that you have time traveled back in time to these moments. ([Location 4401](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4401)) The present tense acts like a temporal magnet, sucking you into whatever time I want you to occupy. ([Location 4403](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4403)) When in doubt, tell backstory using the past tense. ([Location 4437](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4437)) There are other reasons to shift tenses when telling a story. Sometimes I want to push an audience back before bringing them forward again. ([Location 4440](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4440)) As you begin to tell stories in the present tense, the shift from present to past to present will become instinctual as you learn to sense when you want your audience in the present moment as opposed to the past. I hit a moment of heightened emotion or increased gravity, so I instinctually shift to the present tense if I’m not already there, because this is when I want my audience “in the now.” Similarly, when I launch into backstory, I almost always instinctually shift into the past tense. It just makes sense. ([Location 4457](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4457)) I hit a moment of heightened emotion or increased gravity, so I instinctually shift to the present tense if I’m not already there, because this is when I want my audience “in the now.” ([Location 4458](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4458)) In all the time I have been coaching storytellers, one thing comes up again and again that makes no sense to me: people tell me that they rehearse their stories and speeches in front of a mirror. I am always baffled by this strategy. Why a mirror? When you’re performing onstage or speaking in a conference room or interviewing in an office or presenting in a classroom, you’re never looking at yourself. You’re looking at other people. In fact, the only person in the room you can’t see and will never see is you. The only place in the world where you shouldn’t rehearse is in front of a mirror. It’s the only time that you are guaranteed to be seeing something that you will never see while speaking. ([Location 4509](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4509)) failure is more engaging than success. ([Location 4563](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4563)) Nevertheless, there are times when you might want to tell a success story, and when you do, there are two strategies that I suggest you employ.         1.    Malign yourself.         2.    Marginalize your accomplishment. ([Location 4574](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4574)) Rather than attempting to be grandiose about yourself or your success, you must undermine both you and it. This is because of two realities: First, human beings love underdog stories. The love for the underdog is universal. Underdogs are supposed to lose, so when they manage to pull out an unexpected or unbelievable victory, our sense of joy is more intense than if that same underdog suffers a crushing defeat. A crushing defeat is expected. An unbelievable win is a surprise. ([Location 4578](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4578)) human beings prefer stories of small steps over large leaps. Most accomplishments, both great and small, are not composed of singular moments but are the culmination of many small steps. Overnight success stories are rare. They can also be disheartening to those who dream of similar success. The step-by-step nature of accomplishment is what people understand best. This is how to tell a success story: Rather than telling a story of your full and complete accomplishment, tell the story of a small part of the success. Tell about a small step. Feel free to allude to the better days that may lie ahead, but don’t try to tell everything. Small steps only. ([Location 4602](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4602)) This is how to tell a success story: Rather than telling a story of your full and complete accomplishment, tell the story of a small part of the success. ([Location 4605](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4605)) In its best form, storytelling is time travel. If I am doing my job well and telling an excellent story, you may, for just a moment, forget that you exist in the present time and space and travel back to the year and location that I am describing. ([Location 4661](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4661)) My goal as a storyteller is to make my audience forget that the present moment exists. I want them to forget that I exist. I want their mind’s eye to be filled with images of the movie I am creating in their brains. I want this movie to transport them back to the year and spot that my story takes place. ([Location 4663](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4663)) Here are some rules to avoid popping this mystical bubble: ([Location 4685](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4685)) Actors in movies never ask rhetorical questions of their audience (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off being the only exception I have found so far), and neither should you. ([Location 4687](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4687)) Don’t address the audience or acknowledge their existence whatsoever. Avoid phrases like “You guys!” for the same reason you shouldn’t ask rhetorical questions. When a storyteller says something like “You guys, you’re not going to believe this!” the bubble is instantly broken. Time travel has abruptly ended. The audience is keenly aware that someone is standing in front of them, speaking directly to them and the people sitting around them. ([Location 4690](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4690)) Avoid phrases like “You guys!” for the same reason you shouldn’t ask rhetorical questions. ([Location 4691](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4691)) No props. Ever. ([Location 4699](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4699)) Avoid anachronisms. An anachronism is a thing that is set in a period other than that in which it exists. It’s a microwave in the Middle Ages. A refrigerator during the Renaissance. The internet during the Inquisition. If you’re telling a story about something that happened in 1960, but at some point you say that your mission was as unlikely as the moon landing, you’ve created a temporal impossibility in the story and likely popped your time-traveling bubble. ([Location 4713](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4713)) An anachronism is a thing that is set in a period other than that in which it exists. ([Location 4714](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4714)) Phrases like, “But that’s a story for another day,” or “Long story short” serve to remind our audience that we are telling a story. ([Location 4727](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4727)) When I tell a story onstage (or even in a workshop or at a conference), I wear blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and a hat. ([Location 4730](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4730)) My goal is to downplay my physical presence. I want to increase the likelihood of becoming a disembodied voice in the mind of my audience. ([Location 4732](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4732)) That said, there are times when I think it is appropriate to swear:         •     Repeated dialogue: The kid who arrives at my car accident swears. He says, “Dude, you’re fucked.” It’s his words, repeated exactly.         •     When a swear is simply the best word possible: There is no better way to describe my former stepfather than asshole, so that is the word I choose every time.         •     Moments of extreme emotion: There are certainly times in our lives when the best way to capture the heightened emotion of a moment — particularly when it comes to anger and fear — is with profanity.         •     Humor: Though I would never rely solely on profanity for humor, there are moments when a well-placed swear word makes a perfect punch line to a joke. ([Location 4828](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4828)) The rule with vulgarity is simple: If you are speaking about a topic that would be awkward to talk about with your parents or grandparents, tread lightly. Take care of your audience. ([Location 4859](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4859)) I’m often asked how to handle using real people’s names in my stories. I tell storytellers that changing the names of people to protect their anonymity is perfectly reasonable. When you change the name, however, I always suggest that you choose a similar name to make it easier to remember. Barry becomes Bobby. Sally becomes Sandy. ([Location 4861](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4861)) The rule on accents is simple: Don’t. There is never a reason to imitate the accent of a person from another country or another culture. A white man imitating the accent of the Mexican cabdriver (as I once heard a storyteller do) only runs the risk of making the white man sound insensitive and racist (which it did). There is one exception to this rule: you can always do the accents of parents and grandparents. Parental love conquers the potential hazards of racial stereotypes. ([Location 4900](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4900)) I despise the ongoing, never-ending, relentless conversations about the snow, the impending snow, the snowfall projections, and the incessant complaining about the snow. One of my primary goals in teaching storytelling is to make the world a more interesting place. If people know how to tell great stories and know the right stories to share, then the world becomes a more entertaining, connected, and meaningful place to live. ([Location 4921](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4921)) - Note: The novel and unexpected are what make time feel like it’s slowing down. Telling good stories is a way to add novelty and flare to life. This reminds me of the cyclical nature of life. As long as a storyteller keeps telling a story, all is well. I’ve seen people stop speaking onstage. Typically these are storytellers who have memorized their stories word-for-word, and at some point, they’ve forgotten a word. ([Location 4957](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4957)) His nervousness serves him well. Audiences love Steve before he even says a word. Every person in an audience wants to be on the stage to some degree. Maybe it’s less than 1 percent of their being that wants to perform, and maybe it’s 99 percent. Whatever the percentage, Steve connects with the audience before he even speaks, because through his nervousness, he shows them that he is just like them. ([Location 4972](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=4972)) - Note: Part of what makes storytelling so compelling to people is they imagine themselves in the shoes of the storyteller. This is why big stories are hard to tell. They aren’t as relatable. Actors are required to memorize their lines. You are not, nor should you. Actors also have fellow actors on the stage or in the wings to help them when they forget a line. Actors are also pretending to be other people. It’s hard to be authentic and vulnerable when you’re reciting lines. It’s also obvious to an audience when a storyteller is simply reciting a story instead of telling a story. Instead of memorizing your story word-for-word, memorize three parts to a story:         1.    The first few sentences. Always start strong.         2.    The last few sentences. Always end strong.         3.    The scenes of your story. ([Location 5007](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5007)) Instead of memorizing your story word-for-word, memorize three parts to a story:         1.    The first few sentences. Always start strong.         2.    The last few sentences. Always end strong.         3.    The scenes of your story. ([Location 5010](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5010)) Some people remember their scenes in a list, but I actually remember these scenes as circles in my mind. The size of the circle reflects the size of the scene. The color of the circle reflects the tone and tenor of the scene. ([Location 5033](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5033)) I try not to have more than seven scenes in a story. The phone company uses seven digits in our phone numbers because they determined that seven bits of information is the most that the average person can retain at one time. Seven feels right to me. I have some stories that only have three scenes — even better. I have a story composed of just one scene. But seven is my max. ([Location 5037](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5037)) There’s also nothing wrong with becoming emotional during storytelling as long as your emotion doesn’t overwhelm your craft. My wife was emotional during our entire wedding ceremony, but she was still able to recite vows, laugh, and enjoy the moment. She was endearing, sweet, and authentic. Beautiful too. You should aim to do the same. ([Location 5068](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5068)) The microphone is not a magical device. Many people believe that once they are speaking into a microphone, they can speak as softly as they want. It’s not true. Even when you’re speaking into a microphone, you should be trying to speak to the back of the room. Think of the microphone as the guarantee that your voice will reach the back of the room, but you must do the work first. You must push your voice through the device. ([Location 5083](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5083)) If you’re speaking into a microphone set on a stand, be sure that the microphone is perfectly adjusted before you speak. Don’t rush this process. Every second that it takes you to adjust the microphone will feel like ten minutes, but to the audience, it will feel like less than a second. Take your time. There is nothing worse for you or the audience to be thinking about a poorly set microphone as you speak. ([Location 5087](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5087)) If given the option to use a microphone, do so regardless of how booming your voice may be. In speaking to hundreds of audiences, I have learned that hearing impairment is far more prevalent than most people realize, and quite often hearing-impaired people have no desire to announce their impairment to the world. I simply assume that there is a hearing-impaired person in every audience, so if asked if I want to use a microphone, I always say yes. ([Location 5091](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5091)) Whether you are speaking to friends on barstools or students in a classroom or customers in a conference room or grandchildren at Thanksgiving or an audience of thousands in a theater, you must be entertaining. ([Location 5115](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5115)) Not only do you have an obligation to be entertaining, you have an opportunity to be entertaining. You have the chance to set yourself apart from the ever-present drone of the masses. You have the opportunity to make people smile. Laugh. Engage. Learn. Feel better about the time spent. ([Location 5119](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5119)) In 2015, I spent some time in Brazil consulting with an engineering firm. The CEO of the company told me that he would rather hire poorly trained engineers who can speak to potential clients, meet with government agencies, and pitch projects to large groups of people than highly skilled engineers who lack these communication skills. Why? “I can teach a bad engineer to be a good engineer. But I have no idea how to turn a person who can’t write or speak well into someone who can. I’m not sure if it’s even possible.” It’s possible; unfortunately, it takes longer than the afternoon I was spending with this man. But think about that: bad engineers who can speak well will be hired over good engineers who cannot. That is a superpower. ([Location 5127](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5127)) If you are conducting a one-hour meeting at your company, you have effectively stolen one hour from every person in the room. If there are twenty people in the room, your presentation is now the equivalent of a twenty-hour investment. It is therefore your responsibility to ensure that you do not waste the hour by reading from PowerPoint slides, providing information that could have been delivered via email, lecturing, pontificating, pandering, or otherwise boring your audience. You must entertain, engage, and inform. Every single time. ([Location 5134](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5134)) I believe that it is the teacher’s responsibility to provide a reason to learn. A meaningful, entertaining, engaging, thrilling, fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants reason to keep their eyes and ears and minds open. This is why every lesson requires a hook. A hook is not a statement like “This material will be on Friday’s test” or “This is something you’ll use for the rest of your life.” A hook is an attempt to be entertaining, engaging, thought-provoking, surprising, challenging, daring, and even shocking. This can be done in dozens, and perhaps hundreds, of ways. ([Location 5164](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5164)) These are people who answer, “How was your day?” with an itinerary of the day instead of sharing a meaningful moment. ([Location 5209](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07CV2PFYJ&location=5209)) - Note: In the future I should share a meaningful moment from the day instead of an itinerary of what I did.