Storytelling with Impact | Public Speaking

What if community is built by sharing stories we hide?

June 24, 2025/in Community, Personal Stories, Public Speaking, Storytelling, TEDx/by Mark Lovett

Sónia Silva is a master storyteller. It’s as simple as that. Full disclosure, I do know Sónia as we’re friends who also work together on the TEDxLisboa curation team. So I was quite happy to hear that she was going to give a TEDx talk of her own at TEDxPraça Gil Eanes in Portugal. Her talk, What if community is built by sharing stories we hide?, speaks to the ability of our personal stories to connect people, and in doing so, strengthen communities. If you have a story to tell, but you’ve been holding back, this is a story that you should listen to.

Sónia Silva is a communication coach and trainer specializing in voice, storytelling, and public speaking. With a Master’s in Clinical Linguistics and a background in speech therapy, she combines scientific knowledge with a coaching approach to help entrepreneurs and leaders develop their vocal expression, refine their message, and deliver it with confidence and impact

There’s so much wisdom in Sónia’s talk, so much so that I can’t highlight it all, but here are five pearls of wisdom that resonated with me.

But what if the real glue between us isn’t sameness, but the courage to live our own really messy human stories?
Stories turn strangers into people we care about.
Tell your story, even if it’s messy, even if your voice shakes. Create space, build community, not to fit in, not to perform, to belong.
Empathy doesn’t come from headlines or from data. It’s emotional education by direct exposure without someone else’s filter.
When we find meaning together, we co-create future. When we find meaning together, we co-create relations.

As I’ve written about many times before, the essence of personal storytelling is sharing a part of your life experience with others, so that they can understand themselves, their community, and the world at large in a new way.

And I loved her mentioning “messy human stories”, as every person I’ve worked with over the years had a messy story to tell in some respect. Truth be told, they didn’t always tell the messy parts, which was a shame, as what’s different about us, and discussing what didn’t work out the way we wanted, forges a stronger connection with those hearing your story.

Remember my opening line? Where I mention Sónia is a master storyteller? Well, consider this a masterclass in how to craft a compelling story that includes you — the storyteller — but focuses on the wisdom that you bring to an audience. Watch her talk (at least once, preferably more) and read the transcript below. You’ll find it’s time well spent.

Transcript

I remember the moment the doors swung open and I saw 25 kids stare me up and down. I was six years old, and I did what I knew best. I hid behind two large trees: my father’s legs. We had just moved from Germany to Portugal, to Lagos, my family’s hometown. And my mother gently assured me, “Darling, don’t worry. In Portugal, all the kids are just like you.”

What does that even mean when you’re six? Sure, I spoke Portuguese, sure, I looked Portuguese. I still do. Brown eyes, brown hair. But the way I dressed with funky leggings and Birkenstocks, and my references, and the way I carried myself, it was all German.

I forced myself into a new story, one that said behave Portuguese, and I started to perform belonging. I pushed my parents to buy me a new backpack and new clothes, like a round collar shirt I hated, just to fit in. And you know the funny thing? Back in Germany, all I dreamt about was being blonde.

This in-between feeling made me write stories to cope with it, and to feel seen. So, look around, and I mean it. Look to the person behind you, to the person next to you, please. How many times have you changed who you are, your tone, your clothes, perhaps even the way you love, just to fit into one narrative?

We bump into each other, we wave at our neighbors, and yet, our stories remain unheard. Are we a community, or just people sharing time and space? We think community or belonging is about sameness, you know, same beginnings, same milestones, same endings.

But what if the real glue between us isn’t sameness, but the courage to live our own really messy human stories? What if instead of asking where do I fit in, we ask what story do I bring? That shift turns us from spectators to co-creators, and from performing to really showing up. And as we scroll our life away, I think this is deeply needed.

My old shyness made me help people find their voice as a communication coach. And today I want to share with you how public storytelling helps us build stronger communities and find our voice as well. So, my first real taste of public storytelling was Humans of New York.

I stumbled on a post and I saw an old street cleaner sitting in a bench. He was remembering how he used to play there with his little brother, and how he used to protect him from the monsters of the neighborhood. That park was their safe place, like my father’s legs were mine. So, different story, different time, but same emotion.

That hit me. Stories turn strangers into people we care about. Brandon Stanton wasn’t trying to save the world, to preach, or even to sell. He just listened to stories, he took pictures, and he shared their exact words. It started a global craving for stories, of regular people, anonymous citizens, like us, not celebrities. And why? Because they resonate.

There was also The Moth, a live stage where people tell their personal stories. Just guts and grace. In a dark room full of people, they cry, they laugh, and they breathe in sync. And what about Human Library? Even better. You don’t borrow books, you borrow people. And you sit with them face to face.

Someone society has deep stigmas about. And you read through their life with an honest conversation. What these projects have in common is that they were built with and for community. They started small, and they had volunteers who believed in the power of stories to create change. No fancy setup, no forcing, just curiosity and presence.

What moves me most is what they teach us. Empathy doesn’t come from headlines or from data. It’s emotional education by direct exposure without someone else’s filter. In public storytelling, you don’t end with a solid, moral conclusion. Each one has the freedom to pick what they want. And that’s totally the opposite of how I was taught stories at home or at school. If you missed that one correct answer, you failed the test. Do you remember that?

Now, I know what some of you might be thinking: “Oh, there she is, telling that we should reveal ourselves to the world.” Well, no. That’s exactly the myth I want to break. Being yourself doesn’t mean being by yourself. Personal stories are not narcissism. They are invitation. Have you ever wondered why so many TED talks have personal stories? It’s not coincidence, and it’s backed by science.

Researcher Paul Zak explains that when we tell an emotionally engaging story with a good structure, you trigger oxytocin, the hormone that is responsible for trust, connection, even community. So, when we share something, and it doesn’t mean a secret, it means sharing something real and raw, meaning being vulnerable, you open the door, not to be stared up to, but to invite people to do the same. And when you listen, you often find yourself and you act.

Like in the project Hart Verhaalt in The Hague, where they bring together communities that often don’t cross paths, like older Dutch migrants and Pakistani women. They tell their story, they clap, but afterwards, they collaborate. They reflect and they discuss with the audience. And sometimes they start projects inside the city, when before that, they ignored their existence.

When we find meaning together, we co-create future. When we find meaning together, we co-create relations. And eventually, I grabbed the mic and I became a storyteller. And I became a volunteer, and I became the co-host of the Portuguese edition of Storytelling Lisboa, where I welcome between 80 to 100 people. Portuguese, foreigners, and even cats! All colors, all ages, like the perfect Portuguese patchwork.

One day I told a story about my body, about validation, about sex, and still not being a mother. Women cried with me, womb to womb. At the end of the event, while I was putting away the chairs, a person came up to me, a young man, 18, 20 years. And he said, “You’re gonna make it.” And we gave a hug, strong and lasting. And for a moment, he was the storyteller. So I whispered, “I think you have a story too.” And he said, “I do. But I’m not ready yet. Thank you for sharing yours. Now I see you.” I have just met a man with a wound like mine.

We had more in common than gender could guess. And it’s from these brief unexpected moments that we realize that we are all carrying stories, even when we don’t know how to tell them yet. When we are honest, you don’t control who you touch, but you create the space for it.

And nowadays I can tell you that I wear my leggings and my Birkenstocks with no shame. We have built something beautiful in Lisbon. It’s a monthly comeback to stories around an imaginary campfire. But not to retell stories that no longer serve us from generation to generation. We tell new ones, open to all the human experience, with self-acceptance and with agency. That’s why I believe that these places are truly important, especially in countries like Portugal, full of identities and still afraid to speak out. We are quiet, we dismiss ourselves.

So, in case you’re wondering, how can I create such spaces? Let me share with you five key elements.

First one: Warmth. I feel welcomed. A cozy space, warm lights, a clear tone, a group of volunteers that welcome you and enable storytelling practices so you can feel safe.

Second: Empathy. I’m not alone. We echo stories, not to fix you. We share and we recognize emotions, and each one is accountable for the way they show up.

Third: Perspective. I never thought about it this way. Thematic events, they help us broaden our perspectives. We see the experiences on the same topic with different lenses, but the same humanity.

Fourth: Inclusivity. I respect. No hate speech. When everyone is included, we grow. You don’t have to agree, but you respect.

Fifth: Dialogue. Tell me more. Curiosity opens dialogue, and conversations build community. And you know what’s the best of it? You don’t need permission. Anyone can create the space, anyone can hold space.

So let me close with this. We are made of cells, but mostly we are made of stories. Stories shape our beliefs. Stories shape the way we act, we connect, and how we will be remembered. We keep reteling stories that no longer serve us, or even worse, we allow other people to silence them, or to write them for us.

And that ties us to a single thread, a single narrative. By sharing our imperfect stories and truly listen to others, we are reclaiming back community as a space of belonging and not of conformity, so we can weave a web of stories and threads that holds us across divisions.

Sometimes you go far away to find community, but look around, and you may find it. Storytelling is the way of saying, “I see you, I hear you, I’m here too.” So this is my final call: Tell your story, even if it’s messy, even if your voice shakes. Create space, build community, not to fit in, not to perform, to belong.

Obrigada.

Back to you…

Okay, so now you’re inspired to share your story, regardless of who you are and the mess you’ve made. But if you’re still hesitating to share, think about how the connections we make through storytelling provide that sense of belonging we all yearn for. Let others know they’re not alone. That a story told is a story heard.

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On Writing (Your Story) Well – Part Two

November 14, 2022/in Audience, Narrative, Public Speaking, Storytelling, Writing/by Mark Lovett

When telling true stories, people often assume it’s simply a matter of repeating the truth. That’s the best place to begin, as facts are the foundation of personal storytelling, but maximizing the impact of your story comes down to the words, sentences, and paragraphs that comprise all narratives. It’s the writing process which turns truth into story.

Professional writers know this, spending the majority of their time editing what they’ve written. Word choice. Sentence structure. Narrative arc. Writers devote their career to mastering the art of telling stories that matter. For most of us it tends to be a different story.

We learned to write at a very early age, but once we entered the school system the focus was on grammar, which is a necessary component of the writing task, but unfortunately, there was scant guidance when it came to using that proper grammar to tell personal stories. We leave school and begin our career lacking the storytelling skills that can positively effect every aspect of our future.

I was blessed early on in my career when a colleague handed me a new copy of On Writing Well by William Zinsser. That was decades ago, and I’ve since owned a number of copies along the way. I’ve read it many times, refer to it often, and I’m still learning. If telling personal stories is something you aspire to, and want to maximize the impact of your stories, I recommend you pick up a copy.

On Writing Well by William Zinsser Book Cover

The book covers a lot of territory, and in the previous post I covered Part One. With this second installment I highlight key points from Part Two of the book.

From Part II on Unity

As for what point you want to make, every successful piece of nonfiction should leave the reader with one provocative thought
that he or she didn’t have before.

Storytelling with Impact is often about shifting perspectives – altering the way in which a listener or reader views a particular subject, how they view themselves, how they view others, or how they view the world – sometimes all four. Most of us are on a journey of self discovery, as well as self improvement, which entails growth, which results in altering our viewpoints. We seek new information from many sources, one of which involves hearing stories from / about other people.

To achieve the goal of making an impact I ask storytellers to describe how their audience thinks and feels about that idea or experience that forms the basis of their story. I then ask them to describe how that audience might think and feel about the subject after they’ve heard their story. It’s not just a verbal exercise. To truly understand the provocative thought that William Zinsser mentions it’s important to write down your before and after thoughts. Give the exercise it’s due. Understanding the power of your story is key to writing a powerful story.

The Narrative Journey

Trust your material if it’s taking you into terrain you didn’t intend to enter but where the vibrations are good.

Your story’s narrative will, hopefully, take an audience on a journey from your opening line to your closing line in a seamless fashion. And with a clear intent (see previous section) you map out your route by way of identifying the most relevant story blocks and order them properly. But stories can have a way of shapeshifting; pulling you in directions that were not on your planned route. Sometimes you’ll need to pull hard on the reins to get back on track. But to William’s point, you also need to pay attention to how the diversion feels.

Writing is simultaneously a process of crafting a narrative, while at the same time, rediscovering that narrative. As you write, new ideas, experiences, and pathways arise. Distractions should be discarded, but discoveries should be examined. And yes, you may find yourself on a fun diversion, only to realize you’re not going in the right direction, so you’ll have to backtrack an refocus. Stay true to your destination, and yet embrace the chaos that often arises.

From Part II on The Lead and the Ending

You should give as much thought to choosing your last sentence as you did to your first. Well, almost as much.

Every story opens with a (few) sentence(s), and will close with a (few) sentence(s). In my view, “few” equates to 3 or less. In both cases the message must be clear, at first to provide an initial hook for the story, and to conclude, something memorable. Both are vital bookends to your narrative, but I’ll agree with William’s viewpoint that the opening carries a bit more literary weight as you need to capture the interest of the audience in order for them to still be paying attention when it’s time the closing.

That said, focus on crafting a compelling narrative first. Remember the mention about shapeshifting? Initial drafts of your opening and closing may stay intact, but more often than not, you will discover better versions during the writing / editing / rehearsing process. Polish the ends once the story’s narrative is solid.

From Part II on Bits & Pieces

The longer I work at the craft of writing, the more I realize that there’s nothing more interesting than the truth.

I am often asked whether a story can ‘stretch the truth’, or if the storyteller can ’embellish’ their narrative. My answer is always the same. If your intent is to tell a true story, then stick to the truth. My reasoning is that if you’re caught in a lie, or the audience can tell that you’re adding fiction to your story, then everything you say is in doubt. These tactics can work well when you’re telling tall tales at the dinner table, but not when you’re on stage trying to reach an audience with a real story.

What I like about William’s quote is that the truth is actually more interesting. It requires additional work to find a storyline that is more interesting, which is to say, it’s often easier to lie than it is to tell the truth. In many cases, storytellers incorporate a lie (or embellishment) in order to avoid dealing with the truth. While it’s tempting, don’t do it. Find the most impactful truth, and write your story accordingly.

Reflection

These are four pearls from On Writing Well that I’m still (after many years) trying to master. Every time I write something (I think is) wonderful, I wake up the next day, reread my prose and become convinced that someone broke into my home in the middle of the night and changed what I wrote the previous day. I couldn’t have written something so bad, but I did. In those moments of despair I’m glad that the wisdom of William Zinsser is close at hand.

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On Writing (Your Story) Well – Part One

October 28, 2022/in Audience, Narrative, Public Speaking, Storytelling, Writing/by Mark Lovett

On Writing Well by William Zinsser Book Cover

The book covers a lot of territory, more than can be covered one post, so in this first installment I will highlight some key points revealed in Part One of the book.

From Part I on Principles

Writing is hard work. A clear sentence is no accident. Very few sentences come out right the first time, or even the third time. Remember this in moments of despair. If you find that writing
is hard, it’s because it is hard.

Some storytellers that I work with know this day one, most don’t, but they soon discover this reality as we get to revision 4, 5, 6, 7. It’s easy to write. Just pick up a pen, or let your fingers dance across a keyboard. Words do come out, but the first words we write rarely convey the true meaning of our story. The words we need have a way of hiding off the page. Sneaky bastards.

Our first drafts sit on the surface. A basic outline is there. The bones, if you will. And that’s fine, as every structure needs a frame. But it takes focused effort to dig deeper into a story while at the same time polishing a narrative that shifts. Writing and editing. Listening and editing. Rehearsing and editing. Hard work.

The Power of (any) Language

It’s a question of using the English language in a way that will
achieve the greatest clarity and strength.

I always stress the importance of maximizing impact when I help someone craft their narrative, but I like William’s word choice here: achieve the greatest clarity and strength. When a point is not clear the reader or listener may get confused and disconnect from the narrative. Strength comes from not hedging your bets. Say what you mean and be direct. That doesn’t mean overdoing it for dramatic effect. Strength comes from authenticity, not theatrics.

Narratives Under the Microscope

Reexamine each sentence you put on paper. Is every word doing new work? Can any thought be expressed with more economy? Is anything pompous or pretentious or faddish? Are you hanging on to something useless just because you think it’s beautiful?

This is the tedious part, and the step that many writers and speakers cut short. The process involves writing, then reading what you wrote and fixing the most obvious problems. Repeat the cycle until the issues found move from major to minor. Don’t shoot for perfection; that won’t happen at this stage. It’s time for adding audio to the sequence.

Recite the story out loud using your natural voice, as though you were telling it to someone. You will find a whole new basket of problems to correct. Listen for sentences that are too long, words with too many syllables or too complex, and clichés that should be axed. Edit, edit & edit. Then use a smartphone to record your story and play it back. Now your brain isn’t spending any energy trying to speak and you can concentrate on what you’re hearing.

Are the sentences concise? Does it sound like you? We tend to write in a more formal fashion than we speak, using words more difficult than those we would naturally say. If you stumble over words or phrases, see if you can find easier, simpler replacements. The easier it is to say, the easier it is to hear.

What to Include

Never say anything in writing that you wouldn’t comfortably say in conversation.

It’s common for storytellers to ask how much they should reveal, how far they should go in exposing the essence of their personal story, and knowing where the line is can be difficult to determine. I often advise, “Don’t say anything you wouldn’t say at the dinner table.” I like both views, but there are exceptions.

In any case, you must consider your audience as you edit. In our digital world written articles, podcasts and videos get global distribution, or at a minimum, global access. You want your message to be heard, and be as meaningful as possible, but it’s also possible to alienate your audience with details that are considered too shocking or graphic.

In the end you must make that call. One way to approach the topic is to write your story out in full, saying as much as you feel comfortable sharing publicly. Then rehearse your story in front of trusted friends or family – if your story is written, have them read it. Ask whether it felt as if you were holding back and playing it safe, or if it’s a case of TMI (too much information).

Reflection

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Telling Stories About Storytelling

January 1, 2022/in Interview, Narrative, Podcast, Public Speaking, Storytelling, TEDx/by Mark Lovett

Most of my time is spent working with clients, helping them craft and deliver impactful talks, but once in a while I have the opportunity to hang out with a master storyteller and have an in-depth conversation on the art of storytelling. Such was the case when I was a guest on the Speak Like a Leader podcast, hosted by John Bates, the founder of Executive Speaking Success.

I met John back in my TEDx days, when I was organizing TEDxSanDiego and he was at the helm of TEDxSantaMonica, and our first conversation centered on what makes a good story. We’ve stayed connected over the years and still share a common passion for helping others uncover and tell their personal stories.

Mark Lovett on Speaker Like a Leader Podcast

[listen to the entire podcast here or listen to an excerpt below]

Behind the scenes at a TEDx event

We started out talking about the TEDx world from the viewpoint of a TEDx organizer, and I shared the advice that I give to everyone who wants to be on a TED or TEDx stage – that your story should be based on your passion, on a topic that you’re speaking about or writing about on other platforms. The more you’re doing that, the more likely that an organizer will come across your work and think of you as a thought leader on the topic. John’s brilliant insight was that everyone should be living a TED-worthy life. Which is to say, you should be making a difference in the world regardless of whether you get on a TEDx stage.

Mark Lovett as quoted on the Speak Like a Leader podcast #1

What’s unique about you?

We also got into the nuts and bolts of storytelling, and the importance of your unique voice, your view of the world, and the way that can shift perspectives of people in the audience, teach them something, or expand their horizons. With the best TED and TEDx talks, I always think and feel a bit different after the talk concludes. What do listeners think and feel about your topic beforehand, and then after your talk? If there was no difference, then your talk had no impact.

Mark Lovett as quoted on the Speak Like a Leader podcast #2

We also addressed the issue of preparation, as this is one of the most frequently asked questions from potential speakers. How to get ready for the stage. You’ll hear many different opinions on the topic of memorizing, from those who believe in it, to those who avoid it. In working with hundreds of clients over the years, John and I have come to realize that each speaker is unique, and they need to figure out what works best for them.

Regardless of method, the key thing is to rehearse, and rehearse, and rehearse. You need to become very familiar with the points that you want to make during your talk. And a great way to do that is by rehearsing in front of friends or family who will give you honest feedback. Then go back and edit, and rehearse again.

There’s so much more that we covered during our hour together, and it was such an honor to spend time talking to John Bates about the magic of storytelling. So give this episode a listen, and then subscribe to the podcast to hear John interview a wide range of subject matter experts.

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Ashley Wurth Storytelling at The Monti

December 22, 2021/in Public Speaking, Redemtion, Storytelling, Trauma, Vulnerability/by Mark Lovett

Personal stories can be challenging, especially when the past that you want to talk about – the trials and tribulations that form the basis of your experience – is difficult to share. It’s not easy to embrace the vulnerability that is required to create impact with an audience, but in her talk from the stage at The Monti on October 19, 2021 in Durham, North Carolina, Ashley Wurth summoned up the courage to do just that.

In less than 10 minutes Ashley takes us on a journey of the heart while she demonstrates the true power of perseverance and the grace of redemption. Many speakers find it difficult to reveal the dark side of their childhood – they don’t want to say anything negative about family members – as well as the bad decisions they’ve made along the way – they would rather those facts remain hidden from view. Problem is, we don’t learn much from sugar-coated stories.

“The only feeling we could count on was afraid”

But at the same time, she is quite adept at inserting bits of humor that change the tone of the story, if only for a brief moment. This is masterful storytelling, because it’s how life works. Sometimes we’re the one looking for the funny side of a bad situation, and sometimes life itself, by way of friends and family, even encounters with strangers, will provide a dose or two of comic relief.

“I am never, ever, going to break his heart”

I was fascinated by the juxtaposition of her life slipping into a world of drug abuse while maintaining a sense of normalcy for so many years. But that narrative didn’t last forever, and she was in store for a number of painful twists and turns. It’s this type of complex, non-logical story line that is common for so many of us. It’s not one thing or the other, it’s a blending of highs and lows, of choices made, of failures and recovery that make our journey unique.

“And I’ve also learned through all of this, that not only can you fill a broken heart, you can mend one.”

If you have a difficult and/or problematic story to tell, I invite you to listen to Ashley’s saga, to tap into her courage and vulnerability, as well as the pearl that she ends with. My life doesn’t resemble her’s in the least, yet I have a new, more humble perspective on life, and on people whose lives were different than mine. Your story can change lives too. Sit down. Write it. Then tell it.

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