BearsBeetsBattlestar 20 points 7h ago
> Rare as story talent is, we often meet people who seem to have it by
nature, those street-corner raconteurs for whom storytelling is as
easy as a smile. When, for example, coworkers gather around the
coffee machine, the storytelling begins. It’s the currency of human
contact. And whenever a half-dozen souls gather for this mid-
morning ritual, there will always be at least one who has the gift.
>Let’s say that this morning our storyteller tells her friends the
story of “How I Put My Kids on the School Bus.” Like Coleridge’s
Ancient Mariner, she hooks everyone's attention. She draws them
into her spell, holding them slack-jawed over their coffee cups. She
spins her tale, building them up, easing them down, making them
laugh, maybe cry, holding all in high suspense until she pays it off
with a dynamite last scene: “And that’s how I got the little
nosepickers on the bus this morning.” Her coworkers lean back
satisfied, muttering, “God, yes, Helen, my kids are just like that.”
> Now let’s say the storytelling passes to the guy next to her who
tells the others the heartrending tale of how his mother died over
the weekend . . . and bores the hell out of everyone. His story is all
on the surface, repetitious rambling from trivial detail to cliche:
“She looked so good in her coffin.” Halfway through his rendition,
the rest head back to the coffee pot for another cup, turning a deaf
ear to his tale of grief.
> Given the choice between trivial material brilliantly told versus
profound material badly told, an audience will always choose the
trivial told brilliantly. Master storytellers know how to squeeze life
out of the least of things, while poor storytellers reduce the profound
to the banal. You may have the insight of a Buddha, but if
you cannot tell story, your ideas turn dry as chalk.
- Robert Mckee, *Story*