Everyone, like it or not, has a story. Each person born on planet Earth has some event, task, or relationship they want to talk to you about. And what is the goal of each of these individuals? To tell their story.

               Like it or not, we all have a story. Some of us have myriads of experiences, traveling to exotic places, meeting exciting people, or doing exciting things. Others don’t, feeling that their experiences don’t measure up to those who’ve done the fun, adventurous stuff. And what I find fascinating about all of it is each person’s experiences are different. To me, that’s where the fun lies! Sharing those experiences with others lets them see that their life isn’t as dull or ‘plain vanilla’ as others might think.

               Growing up, I didn’t think my life was all that exciting. I did the same thing every other kid did – I went to school, did my homework (most of the time), played outside until it got dark, ate dinner, and went to bed. Rinse. Repeat. Monday through Friday, five days a week. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year.

               Unlike my other classmates, I had a chance to grow up with a Dad who’s primary occupation was telling stories using a medium referred to as slides. Slides morphed into video production and film. And the next thing I know, Dad’s running a video production company. But how do slides and film, and video fit into storytelling? The only difference between what my Dad did and what I did was the medium choice. I chose writing it, whereas Dad used images to convey his stories. Both do exactly the same thing – tell a story. Which works better? I don’t think either one does a better job, but I do believe each serves a different audience in another way.

               Before I learned to read, I was telling stories. To hear my Dad talk about it, I was speaking into existence worlds and creatures that existed in my imagination – and nowhere else. Part of that was being the oldest kid. My younger brother, James, was 18 months younger than me. I didn’t have anyone else to play with that could talk. Not for roughly a year, anyway. Then, like it or not, he was enamored with his older brother. It’s part of the whole birth order thing. There is no escape from that. As the oldest, you just deal with it. And for a long time, James was the baby.

                Reading, however, changed my life. Now I was experiencing other people’s stories, other people’s imaginations. Instead of relying on my imagination, I now had authors that would take me to visit their worlds, their creations. And some of their stuff was amazing! Others, not so much. Like an all-you-can-eat salad bar, I took what I wanted, building from their experiences and creating my own.

               Playing with other kids increased my storytelling and imagination. Some of the most intelligent kids I knew in elementary school weren’t smart. Not in the sense of intelligence quotient-wise. Some may have been, but I’d be willing to bet more than not that these kids had parents that kept them on task, making sure they were completing their homework. And that’s all it took to be competent in elementary school. But these same kids were the imaginative ones! These were my friends because they were dreaming of places far from our world. These were the Karens, Lauras, Lisas, Jasons, Jills, and Davids in my childhood. These same folks build the worlds you read about today. Because they had great stories!

               My English teachers in school drove this point home. Be clear. Be concise. Adapt your message to your audience (okay, that came later during high school years and beyond, but you get the idea). It didn’t take me long to grasp the concepts of English, but also the way sentences were constructed. Through trial and many errors, I learned how to make paragraphs work. How to clarify transitions and all kinds of other stuff that English professors and teachers know but no one, and I mean no one else, cares about!

               Unfortunately for me, being a storyteller means I can see the holes in the plot, flaws in the characters, and bad writing on sight. Clear communication, for me, means taking the time to identify who your audience is and what message you want to convey. As a storyteller, if you aren’t doing that, you aren’t a good storyteller. It’s why I will turn off some television shows or refuse to watch some actors. The writing isn’t exemplary. And yeah, I guess I’m kind of a snob now. But how can you watch or read something that feels like the storyteller didn’t care enough to give it their best? Like the movie, The Princess Bride. Not only did the filmmakers take the time to care enough about the characters, they specifically built the sets and costumes to fit the plot, the characters, and the telling of the story.

               Can you tell a story? Can you deliver the message in the right way to the right audience at the right time? If you can, good for you! Do your very best to write clear, consistent language. Do your best not to use words that everyday people won’t understand. My sister-in-law says I use 50-cent words; she says it’s difficult for her to interpret what I’m saying. I don’t use words outside my vocabulary, but when you use audacious daily, your family needs a dictionary to understand? Probably not the best use of language, and I try to speak to my audience. But even I struggle with that.

                If you can’t tell a story and you know that for a fact – find someone who can, someone who does tell stories. Chances are they’ll tell your story for you, knowing how to put all those vocabulary words they learned in school to good use.

               And if they don’t want to tell your story? Ask me. I’m always looking for new material.