Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
We’ve all heard this question, or something similar, asked of witnesses in television or movie courtroom scenes. And for anyone who has served on a jury, you have heard it first hand. But what does this question really mean, is it a reasonable expectation, and if so, how does it pertain to the practice of telling personal stories?
While it’s true that we tell personal stories to each other all the time – every conversation can be thought of as a story – in this article I’m referring to stories that we plan to share in public; in print, on stage, radio shows or podcasts, and thinking about the nature of truth when we’re telling these stories.
Although the practice of telling such stories has been around for millennia, the desire to hear them, and the opportunities to do so, have increased dramatically in recent years. As we’ve become more connected, and technologically savvy, we’ve developed a thirst for story that seems to be unquenchable.
Millions tune into broadcasts, view videos, or attend live events with a desire to hear stories about our shared human experience. Stories about who we are and where we have been, stories about the struggles we’ve endured, and the universal hope for a better future.
In my coaching practice I’ve had the pleasure of working with hundreds of folks who want to tell impactful personal stories; professional speakers and novices, students and academics, entrepreneurs and CEOs, prison inmates and special forces, scientists and creatives.
During the process of developing their storylines the topic of truth often comes up when many say, “It’s impossible to remember every detail. How truthful does my story need to be?” And their difficulty in remembering the truth is especially troublesome for experiences and conversations that happened a long time ago. Our memory can be rather permeable.
That’s when I’ll bring up the The Moth. I listen to a long list of podcasts each week for story inspiration, and The Moth remains at the top of the list. I never miss an episode. They host live storytelling events, and feature the best ones on The Moth Radio Hour. When it comes to truth, they address the issue best, in my opinion, by announcing during each broadcast:

With this in mind I encourage speakers to do their homework and verify everything they can, especially any statistics, research data or historical references. When it comes to the topic of personal experience, they should reach out to anyone mentioned in their story to verify the facts, or at least hear their side of the story to be sure the essence of the narrative is true.
The reason is straightforward. If any aspect of a story is untrue, the entire narrative becomes suspect. One bad apple can, in this situation, spoil your story’s impact. When trust is broken between the storyteller and their audience it becomes difficult to repair. You need to connect with your audience from a place of honesty and integrity.
Should you ever have a desire to embellish your story as a way to make it stronger, I would counter that you don’t need to make things up in order to make a point, and if you feel you do, there’s something fundamentally lacking in your story to begin with, something that lying won’t/can’t solve. Instead, rethink your premise, and dig deeper into your narrative in order to find experiences or related information that supports the meaning of your story.
Everyone is entitled to their own opinion,
but not their own facts. – Daniel Patrick Moynihan
But there are other elements in personal storytelling – ideas, insights, beliefs and opinions. This part of your narrative is not based on empirical facts, but rather your view of the world, how you see things, what is true for you, which is subjective rather than objective.
An audience wants to hear your opinion – it’s how they connect to you as a person and come to understand the meaning of your story. But there should never be any confusion as to whether your words are presented as fact or opinion. Expressions such as, “It seemed to me“, “The way I see it“, “The way I felt was“, can let the audience know that you’re shifting from fact to opinion. Done well, they will come to better understand the journey you’ve been on.
You must be the guardian of truth within your story, as it becomes a reflection of you.
◆
If you enjoyed this article…
◆
◆
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates!
Copyright Storytelling with Impact® – All rights reserved
Creating a Vivid and Continuous Dream
/in Audience, Fiction, Narrative, Nonfiction, Writing/by Mark LovettJohn Gardner was an accomplished author, literary critic and university professor – a rather rare combination. He was one of the best teachers of fiction writing, and his two books on the topic, The Art of Fiction and On Becoming a Novelist, have helped thousands learn the craft.
If you read my previous blog posted titled The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but?, you’ll know that my approach to personal storytelling is to stick to what’s true and not delve into the world of fiction. That said, we can still learn much from the methods used to write fiction, which is why I’m sharing a few quotes from Gardner’s On Becoming a Novelist that apply equally to nonfiction.
We’ve all been there. Reading a book that you can’t set down or watching a movie that has you leaning forward, barely breathing. When you get lost in a compelling story, the ‘real’ world has a way of disappearing, replaced by the narrative at hand. It’s a common experience with great fiction, but is also happens when we see a speaker live on stage that has everyone in the theater spellbound. While there are many factors at work in such situations, word choice and an eye for detail are key elements.
As with most talents, this comes naturally to some, but most of us have to work at developing this illusive skill. The good news is we can learn it with practice. Noticing cliche words and phrases, or those lacking imagination or specificity. Our story’s first pass often contains a lot of safe language. Words that easily come to mind, and work okay, but we can do better.
Writing and revising is tedious, but it’s the only way to move from just okay to excellent, from a general to a more specific meaning. If the goal is to give a speech, as opposed to writing an essay, then the process will involve rehearsing and editing so that the words don’t just read beautifully, but sound superb. How do we do that?
Challenge every word. Does it convey the meaning you intend? Is it ‘beautiful’, or ‘superb’, or ‘elegant’? And how will your audience react to the use of a particular word or phrase? One technique I recommend is to record your talk, then play it back as though it was a podcast. Your ears will pick up issues with word choice (as well as tone, volume and cadence) that your eyes frequently miss. We hear differently than we read.
Choosing the most appropriate words is, to a large degree, dependent upon the vision that the writer is trying to convey, and this is where John Gardner brings in the concepts of sharp, vivid, and accurate. How you describe a person, place, thing or event affects the listener’s ability to create the same image in their mind.
Sometimes it helps to think like a movie director who creates a visual story that surrounds the character’s words. In memorable cinema, everything in a scene is intentional and conveys an intended meaning. When done well it transports us into a vivid and continuous dream.
◆
If you enjoyed this article…
◆
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals!
◆
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates!
Copyright Storytelling with Impact® – All rights reserved
The Country Doctor on Snap Judgement
/in Discrimination, Health, Podcast, Storylistening, Truth/by Mark LovettAmerica has had problems with discrimination from day one. Look no further than the death toll of Native Americans, often deemed to be heathens, as settlers pushed onward from sea to shining sea. And with the invention of the cotton gin, wealthy landowners sanctified an increase in slavery, economically justifying the practice of kidnapping, shackling, and selling Africans to the highest bidder.
Then we have the egregious treatment of Mexican citizens. You know, the folks who owned a significant chunk of the Western U.S. until they exited south at gunpoint. And let’s not forget about the treatment of immigrants from China, South America and the Middle East. These are not simple histories. In fact, quite the opposite, as there have always been Americans who were welcoming to people of any country, ethnicity or religion. But discrimination has been, and continues to be, a shameful truth in the land of freedom and justice for all.
It was encouraging to see America make progress on this front during the late 60s into the 70s and 80s, but backsliding on the ideal of equality was evident from the 1990s onward. Slowly at first, but rapidly accelerating over the past 3+ years with public displays of hate and prejudice seen in many parts of the country. Displays without remorse of apology.
But all is not lost. Hearts can soften and open with grace whenever people resist stereotyping and instead rely on the power of human connection to speak truth to hate. Whenever we remove the wall of discrimination long enough to forge meaningful relationships, a space for the miraculous appears. A space where healing and justice coexist alongside internal struggle.
Snap Judgement recently broadcast a story that I highly recommend listening to. It was one of those rare podcast episodes that stopped me in my tracks, as I needed to hear the story of Dr. Ayaz Virji until the very end. Give it a listen.
Artwork by Teo Ducot | Snap Judgment | WNYC Studios
Dr. Ayaz Virji was aware of the positive impact he could have on a small rural town serving as a clinic medical director and chief of staff. And while the community embraced his family upon their arrival, and he enjoyed working with his patients, an abrupt change in the national political climate upset his view of the world, and his place in it.
The narrative follows Dr. Virji’s journey of self-discovery and reflection, of confrontation and conversation within the town after the 2016 election. As you listen to his story, think about the decisions made along the way, by all parties, but especially by Dr. Virji. How did each decision alter the plot of the story? How would you have reacted?
With my white, middle class background, living a life free from discrimination, it’s hard for me to wear his shoes (or anyone else in similar circumstances), to understand his decisions, to feel the pain and frustration that I clearly hear in his voice. What would I have done?
I continue to struggle with recognizing and dealing with the rifts of hate and discrimination in society, but as all impactful stories do, this podcast has altered my frame of reference, and I now view my own story through a new lens. And hopefully it will also make me a better storylistener.
Image credit: Snap Judgment | WNYC Studios
Nancy López is a senior producer at Snap Judgment. She started in radio in 2006 when she joined Soul Rebel Radio, a collective of novice storytellers in Los Angeles. Since then, she’s worked as a producer for Radio Ambulante and Making Contact. Her stories have been featured on PRI’s The World, KALW in San Francisco, and Radio Bilingue.
The Country Doctor – Season 11 – Episode 18 – Produced by Nancy Lopez, Original score by Renzo Gorrio, Artwork by Teo Ducot – Snap Judgement founded by Glynn Washington.
◆
If you enjoyed this article…
◆
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals!
◆
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates!
Copyright Storytelling with Impact® – All rights reserved
Behind the Scenes of The Memory Palace
/in Art, History, Humanity, Narrative, Podcast/by Mark LovettI’ve been a podcast listener for many years, and at the beginning of my daily walk I’ll open the PocketCasts app on my phone to find an episode that will indulge my storytelling addiction. There are podcasts which live there temporarily – I’ll add and delete as my desires change – but several of them have a permanent slot in my listening rotation.
The Moth, This American Life, 99% Invisible, Radio Diaries, Ear Hustle, The Kitchen Sisters, Longform Podcast and Unfictional are on a brief list of shows that have become long-time audio companions, friends I can trust to expand and challenge my perceptions. Another member of that illustrious list is The Memory Palace, a podcast I fell in love with day one.
Created by storytelling genius Nate DiMeo in 2008, you could say it’s been around the digital block a few times. Nate’s no stranger to audio, having spent a decade plus in public radio and heard on landmark shows such as All Things Considered, Morning Edition, and Marketplace.
The Memory Palace is not unusual in one sense, as it simply presents historical vignettes about people, places and past events. Its uniqueness comes from DiMeo’s ability to pull a single thread from a complex tapestry of facts and feelings, then offer it to us as a bespoke narrative. Like a wandering medieval minstrel, he takes his audience on a magical exposition of the past, somehow condensing hours of exposition into mere minutes.
As much as I love the well-polished episodes that he produces, it was a special treat to hear this behind-the-scenes conversation with Radiolab’s Robert Krulwich on storytelling and life. It’s a conversation that revealed pivotal moments early in his career, alongside his passion for, and approach to, crafting stories that can touch people.
Whether you’re a professional storyteller or just aspire to gain a greater mastery of the art, DiMeo’s journey from nearly clueless to consummate creator will change your perspective on telling stories in the digital age.
A Conversation About the Memory Palace with Robert Krulwich
Learn more about Nate DiMeo in this beautiful article by Sarah Larson in The New Yorker, and this insightful piece by Joshua Barone in the New York Times.
◆
If you enjoyed this article…
◆
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals!
◆
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates!
Copyright Storytelling with Impact® – All rights reserved
The Modern Story of Strange Fruit, with Dianne Reeves and John Beasley
/in History, Humanity, Justice, Slavery, Trauma/by Mark LovettRacial discrimination is a sad reality throughout the world, and sadly, still a significant aspect of American culture. From the advent of slavery in the South, to fighting a Civil War in hopes of bringing the practice to a close, and the current state of affairs after many centuries. It is a story we wish had never been written. A story whose narrative arc still requires a remedy.
“Strange Fruit” was written 80 years ago describing the horrific practice of lynching innocent African-Americans by white people. It’s unconscionable and unacceptable that lynching is still happening today and also that the justice system failed Ahmaud Arbery. It was only after public widespread outrage followed the release of the horrific video which showed evidence of a racist father-and-son team shooting an unarmed Arbery to death.
John Beasley and Dianne Reeves collaborated on this video as a way to protest the continuing brutality and racism against African-Americans.
Directed & Edited by Anthony C. Santagati
Executive Produced by Aja Burrell Wood
Music Produced and Arranged by Dianne Reeves (vocals) and John Beasley (keyboards)
Nicolas Payton – trumpet
Terreon Gully – drums
Alex Al – bass
Composer: Abel Metropol
Black people are so tired.
They can’t go jogging (#AmaudArbery).
They can’t sleep (#Breonna Taylor+#AiyanaJones)
They can’t walk home with Skittles (#TrayvonMartin).
They can’t relax in the comfort of their own homes (#BothemSean and #AtatianaJefferson).
They can’t ask for help after being in a car crash (#JonathanFerrell and #RenishaMcBride).
They can’t have a cellphone (#StephonClark).
They can’t leave a party to get to safety (#JordanEdwards).
They can’t play loud music (#JordanDavis).
They can’t sell CDs (#AltonSterling).
They can’t walk from the corner store (#MikeBrown).
They can’t play cops and robbers (#TamirRice).
They can’t go to church (#Charleston9).
They can’t hold a hair brush while leaving their own bachelor party (#SeanBell).
They can’t party on New Years (#OscarGrant).
They can’t get a normal traffic ticket (#SandraBland).
They can’t lawfully carry a weapon (#PhilandoCastile).
They can’t break down on a public road with car problems (#CoreyJones).
They can’t shop at Walmart (#JohnCrawford)
They can’t have a disabled vehicle (#TerrenceCrutcher).
They can’t read a book in their own car (#KeithScott).
They can’t be a 10yr old walking with their grandfather (#CliffordGlover).
They can’t decorate for a party (#ClaudeReese).
They can’t ask a cop a question (#RandyEvans).
They can’t cash their check in peace (#YvonneSmallwood).
They can’t take out their wallet (#AmadouDiallo).
They can’t run (#WalterScott).
They can’t breathe (#EricGarner).
They can’t live (#FreddieGray).
They’re tired.
Tired of making hashtags.
Tired of trying to convince you that #BlackLivesMatter too.
Tired of dying.
◆
If you enjoyed this article…
◆
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals!
◆
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates!
Copyright Storytelling with Impact® – All rights reserved
The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but?
/in Narrative, Public Speaking, Storytelling, Truth/by Mark LovettDo you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
We’ve all heard this question, or something similar, asked of witnesses in television or movie courtroom scenes. And for anyone who has served on a jury, you have heard it first hand. But what does this question really mean, is it a reasonable expectation, and if so, how does it pertain to the practice of telling personal stories?
While it’s true that we tell personal stories to each other all the time – every conversation can be thought of as a story – in this article I’m referring to stories that we plan to share in public; in print, on stage, radio shows or podcasts, and thinking about the nature of truth when we’re telling these stories.
Although the practice of telling such stories has been around for millennia, the desire to hear them, and the opportunities to do so, have increased dramatically in recent years. As we’ve become more connected, and technologically savvy, we’ve developed a thirst for story that seems to be unquenchable.
Millions tune into broadcasts, view videos, or attend live events with a desire to hear stories about our shared human experience. Stories about who we are and where we have been, stories about the struggles we’ve endured, and the universal hope for a better future.
In my coaching practice I’ve had the pleasure of working with hundreds of folks who want to tell impactful personal stories; professional speakers and novices, students and academics, entrepreneurs and CEOs, prison inmates and special forces, scientists and creatives.
During the process of developing their storylines the topic of truth often comes up when many say, “It’s impossible to remember every detail. How truthful does my story need to be?” And their difficulty in remembering the truth is especially troublesome for experiences and conversations that happened a long time ago. Our memory can be rather permeable.
That’s when I’ll bring up the The Moth. I listen to a long list of podcasts each week for story inspiration, and The Moth remains at the top of the list. I never miss an episode. They host live storytelling events, and feature the best ones on The Moth Radio Hour. When it comes to truth, they address the issue best, in my opinion, by announcing during each broadcast:
With this in mind I encourage speakers to do their homework and verify everything they can, especially any statistics, research data or historical references. When it comes to the topic of personal experience, they should reach out to anyone mentioned in their story to verify the facts, or at least hear their side of the story to be sure the essence of the narrative is true.
The reason is straightforward. If any aspect of a story is untrue, the entire narrative becomes suspect. One bad apple can, in this situation, spoil your story’s impact. When trust is broken between the storyteller and their audience it becomes difficult to repair. You need to connect with your audience from a place of honesty and integrity.
Should you ever have a desire to embellish your story as a way to make it stronger, I would counter that you don’t need to make things up in order to make a point, and if you feel you do, there’s something fundamentally lacking in your story to begin with, something that lying won’t/can’t solve. Instead, rethink your premise, and dig deeper into your narrative in order to find experiences or related information that supports the meaning of your story.
But there are other elements in personal storytelling – ideas, insights, beliefs and opinions. This part of your narrative is not based on empirical facts, but rather your view of the world, how you see things, what is true for you, which is subjective rather than objective.
An audience wants to hear your opinion – it’s how they connect to you as a person and come to understand the meaning of your story. But there should never be any confusion as to whether your words are presented as fact or opinion. Expressions such as, “It seemed to me“, “The way I see it“, “The way I felt was“, can let the audience know that you’re shifting from fact to opinion. Done well, they will come to better understand the journey you’ve been on.
You must be the guardian of truth within your story, as it becomes a reflection of you.
◆
If you enjoyed this article…
◆
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals!
◆
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates!
Copyright Storytelling with Impact® – All rights reserved