Our own mortality weighs heavily on us humans. If only we could make ourselves immortal. Sound a bit heavy? Only because it’s true.

Picture those alchemists of old, hunched over bubbling potions, strange collections of ingredients lining the walls. See those scientists intent on their microbes in petri dishes and stem cells in… whatever receptacles stem cells are kept in. All of them focused on finding the way to extend life, perhaps forever.

Our human instinct towards survival is not only an instinctive concern with the survival of our species. It is a concern which each of us has with surviving as an individual for as long as possible.

How Long Can We Really Live?

Who knows what life expectancy in good health future generations may look forward to. Some scientists predict that in years to come it will be quite normal to receive your telegram from the Queen on your hundredth birthday. Happy days. And good news for the job security of admin staff at the Palace.

Sooner or later, though, the day must arrive for us all when we shuffle off our mortal coil (to quote the Bard). Go to meet our maker, push up the daisies, snuff it (to quote Monty Python – we all know the sketch!).

So Is That The End?

I’m not talking about an afterlife or reincarnation or being cryogenically preserved. That’s for other people to write about. I’m talking about living on in this world as yourself.

So, are you up for it? Want the secret?…

This is what you do…

Tell stories that captivate, that arouse the imagination and engage the emotions of other human beings.

Stories that captivate can change lives. Change the lives of others, and you can live on.

Would you love to learn how to tell stories that captivate? Join The Storytellers’ Academy.
Curious? Want to discover more? Join the FREE group I’ve Got a Story to Tell.

Want to tell your story and make real connections? Learn the secret…

What’s the big secret? … The story is not about you!

How can your story possibly not be about you? You’re the one who lived through the events, right? Sure you did. However, once you turn what happened into a story, it becomes about your audience – not you.

This is often the hardest thing for a teller of personal stories or memoirs to wrap their head around. It is also the most crucial thing. Let’s unpack it…

When you tell a story, you’re giving away a gift. Think about the times you have chosen a physical gift for someone else: you considered what sort of gift would be right for that person, yes? You took into account their interests and tastes rather than your own.

But have you ever made the mistake of buying a gift for someone based on what you would like to receive? Remember that blank expression that crossed their face when they unwrapped it, before they managed to hide it behind a smile? Right then, you knew that the gift you thought was so lovely was going to vanish into a drawer, never again to see the light of day.

That doesn’t mean the object itself was awful. It just wasn’t a good gift.

Telling your story is the same. You have to take into account your audience’s interests. 

Does that mean my story has no value?

No. No it doesn’t mean that.

Every story has value. That is true whether your story is about raising your children, rowing across the Atlantic, teaching pupils to read, or the journey to becoming a millionaire.

So how do I tell my story so that other people will be interested?

A story that holds other people’s interest is one which allows them to imagine that the story is about them. They need to ‘live’ the story for themselves along with you – either looking over your shoulder or actually being you, especially when the tension of the story reaches its height.

They need to see, hear, feel and smell the experiences. Your job as the storyteller is to park your ego and allow them to do that. Allow them to make the story their own.

In other words, you have to learn to let the story go. Give it away. That might feel scary. It might feel unfair. After all, you’re the one who lived it.

Three myths about good writing

There are many myths about what makes good writing. Here I debunk three of them…

1. Good writing needs to be grammatically correct.

Not always. Controversial? Not particularly – just common sense. Take another look at those three sentences you’ve just read. Every textbook of English grammar states that a sentence needs to contain a main verb, yet those sentences do not have a single verb amongst them (main or otherwise). Did that stop you understanding them? I doubt it. I am not saying that we should throw the rules of our language out of the window and burn them all on the bonfire while we dance around it wearing bear skins. As a general rule, standard English is the way to go.

But (and how dare I start a sentence or a paragraph with a conjunction!) there are times when we can bend or ignore the rules. There is indeed wonderful beauty in the standard English rhythm of Dickens’ “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” (A Tale of Two Cities) but there is also beauty in the truth of the words, “I’m pore, I’m black, I may be ugly and can’t cook, a voice say to everything listening. But I’m here.” (The Color Purple, Alice Walker). Celie’s voice couldn’t talk to us in standard English – it wouldn’t be true. So that is writing myth #1.

3. I need to use lots of unusual words and long sentences so that it doesn’t sound simplistic.

There’s a world of difference between simplistic and simple. Simplistic is bad. Simple is good. Avoiding swallowing a combined edition dictionary and thesaurus does not make your writing simplistic. Treating your reader as if s/he is stupid makes it simplistic (see the above note about too much detail). Simple is beautiful. Simple doesn’t tangle your reader in sentences which use three different types of subordinate clauses plus an embedded clause (and no, it’s not desperately important whether you know what they are or not). Simple doesn’t leave your reader baffled because you’ve used three words in a row s/he doesn’t know. Simple writing lets your reader read it without drawing attention to itself. Your reader is free to enjoy the story. Simple! Writing myth #3.

So what am I really telling you?

Good writing serves the reader, not the writer. How can you engage your reader in the story? How can you make your characters come alive and dance for their audience? Anticipate what the reader will want, then give it to them (though tease them now and again by making them wait a while for answers). The reader isn’t thinking ‘How can I admire this writer?’ but ‘Am I enjoying this story?’ That, dear reader, is the crux of it – write so that your reader enjoys the story.