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Creativity
Tell a Story to Build a Connection
Become a good storyteller with these 10 tips from an expert.
Posted March 22, 2024 Reviewed by Davia Sills
Key points
- Storytelling is a vitally human tool for forging connections.
- A good story starts with a why, includes feeling and details, and ends strong.
- In all good stories, characters undergo changes.
If we were tasked with explaining some of our species-defining concepts to alien visitors, we’d probably tell them stories. No dictionary definition of love, joy, regret, or grief encapsulates the majesty and misery of those words as does relating them to the context of everyday lived experience. We humans are a family of storytellers. Thanks to our millennia-long anthology of collective wisdom and tradition, storytelling has become a key marker of what it means to be human. In fact, the whole package of storytelling—the story, the speaker, the listener, the space that blooms between them—is one ningenkusai feat (“Stinks like human” is the literal translation of the Japanese word ningenkusai).
In her 19 years at The Moth—an award-winning multimedia organization that promotes the craft of storytelling—Sarah Austin Jenness has heard tens of thousands of stories. Storytelling, she says, is the ultimate virtual reality. “When a story is told well, it allows the listener to walk beside the speaker and to see the world through their eyes. Suddenly, you find yourself transported to a forest in Alaska or sitting around someone else’s grandmother’s kitchen table.” The more personal the story is, notes Jenness, the more universal it becomes.
Stories change lives. Whether we are the ones telling them or the ones listening, stories help humans to be deeply seen. The good news, Jenness promises, is that storytelling is easier than we think.
Here is Jenness with 10 tips for telling a good story.
Start with the why.
There are many stories that we can tell in many different ways. Ask yourself: Why do you want to tell this particular story? Why is this story interesting or meaningful to you? It might have been the first, the last, the best, or the worst of something. Or it debunked a dominant narrative you had. There is a deeper reason why particular life moments stick with us.
Reveal the change.
In all good stories, characters undergo changes. When you tell us who you are at the beginning of your story, you are setting up your character. By the end of the story, your character should be somehow a little different.
Maybe you’ve learned something. Maybe you’ve surprised yourself. Maybe you’ve come to see something in a new light. This metamorphosis—however subtle—builds the ark of your story. Become clear about your characters’ before-and-after delta as you construct your story ahead of telling it.
Include feeling.
It’s not enough to simply recount the plot (“This and that happened. Can you believe it?”). Instead, vacillate between action and reflection (“This happened, and I felt that.”). Once in a while, snap yourself out of the plot and tell the listener how you were interpreting it. Otherwise, the listener will interpret your story in accordance with their own life experience. For example, “My parents announced to me that they were getting a divorce” might be interpreted to mean that you were devastated. But if you added, “I was relieved! I didn’t want to hear them fight anymore,” you allow the listener to get to know you better.
Mind the time.
Take into account the amount of time you have at your disposal to tell your story (an elevator pitch for a job interview versus a lengthy conversation with a friend) before deciding what belongs in this particular story. What does the listener really need to know?
Bring to life your scenes with details.
The scenes in your story are similar to film scenes. Enliven them with dialogue and sense memories: sights, sounds, smells, what you were thinking and feeling. There’s a reason why you remember a lot of strange and precise features about particular events in your life. Lean into those memories and try to describe the details. Stories are like fingerprints. They are unique to you. Adding specific details help to make this story one that only you can tell.
Avoid witness stories.
Witness stories tend to be passive and, hence, not as compelling. (“I saw this happen to someone else, and it made me think of this.”) If what you witness becomes the catalyst for your own story, be sure to turn the camera back on you.
Take us with you.
Stay in the story. Instead of saying, “When I saw my father at the door, my whole life changed,” just open the door, see your father, hear what he has to say, and then let us experience with you, in real-time, how it impacts your life. Take us with you on your journey—we’ll be as shocked as you with the news that he reveals.
Tell stories that are happening in the action instead of in hindsight. Add dialogue instead of talking about what was said. Use more present tense. Stories that stay inside of the experience as it is unfolding, rather than giving the plot away before it happens, are more impactful and more fun to listen to.
Help us care.
Your listener is not going to keep their focus unless they know why they’re rooting for you. We need to know what’s at stake. Give context and reveal why it’s meaningful for you. For example, “Love had eluded me for decades, and I was really eager to feel it again. So, when I walked into the room and saw him, I thought, maybe this is it.” If you are honest about why you care, your listeners can’t help but care.
End strong.
Endings can often trail off tepidly without a proper wrap-up (“Can you believe it? Isn’t that crazy?”). Spend time on your last lines. Remember: The end can usually be found in the beginning. Think: How can I wrap up loose ends and show that I’m not the person I was at the start of this story?
Bake your lessons into your story.
Your story will naturally contain multiple lessons. Avoid preaching your message. If you are true to yourself and reveal your feelings throughout the story, your listeners will have their own “aha moments” without you scripting what they should be.
If the thought of telling a story to anyone, anywhere, puts you on edge, you’re in good company. Yet, as Jenness has witnessed firsthand with thousands of nervous storytellers, the leap, or even the brief wander outside the confines of your comfort zone, might be well worth it. (“Many people walk off the stage like they’re on a cloud. Their bodies move differently. They’re standing straighter. They’re more gregarious.”)
Have faith in your story: It’s a treasure chest full of balms for our need for connection.
Have faith in your audience: We are here with you—all systems ready to feel, to imagine, to transform.
Have faith in yourself: Your words give voice to our unsung encounters. Your heart—open and vulnerable—mirrors the astounding spectacle of our humanity.
Many thanks to Sarah Austin Jenness for her time and insights. Jenness is an executive producer at The Moth and the co-author of the book How To Tell A Story: The Essential Guide to Memorable Storytelling from The Moth (2022). The Moth is a globally acclaimed nonprofit dedicated to the art and craft of storytelling. Their latest anthology is A Point of Beauty: True Stories of Holding On and Letting Go (2024).
