Saturday, June 6, 2015

Stories



"I am a storyteller at heart."

I've used this line many times in my career and it is the truth. I've used it to explain my attraction to Marketing, and why I moved into Marketing Research. "I love digging around to find the best story to tell," I would explain when my coworkers asked me why a social person like myself wanted to work with numbers. My career has since taken yet another left turn as I've gotten into Human Resources, and greenfield startups. Yet my favorite part of the job is still when I get to sit with a small group and explain the journey that my company has traveled to get to where we are today, and how that positions us for the future.

Until recently, I had never even paused to consider the storyteller aspect in my life outside of work. It is so much a part of me I can't seem to think of it as merely a piece of my personality. It is a defining aspect. And I'm sure anyone who knows me could attest to this.

Now, I never claimed to be a good storyteller, mind you, only that it is something that I like to do. I have family and friends who are much more gifted storytellers than I. My brother and my mom are two of the most gifted writers I know. I get exceptionally excited when I see a long email or Facebook post from one of them, because I love to lose myself in the way they tell their stories. My grandmother teaches and entertains whole congregations, but the stories she tells of her own life are my favorites. Give my uncle a campfire and an attentive audience and he will have you all clutching your stomachs from laughter within a few minutes. Another uncle is actually internationally acclaimed for his ability to choose the stories  to bring to life on his stage; stories that will bring an audience to rolling laughter, stunned silence or half-hidden tears. My "little" cousins (who are now in full-fledged adulthood) are better writers and spoken storytellers than I could ever hope to be. The youngest joined the fray during last year's Thanksgiving, captivating a normally… how can I say this…boisterous family with tales of his college life, to all of our delight.
And those are just the storytellers that I know personally! There are countless authors whose stories are so well written that I have completely lost myself in their pages. Nonfiction and fiction have both transported me to different worlds. Orson Scott Card, Barbara Kingsolver, Jeffrey Deaver, Patrick Rothfuss, Bill Bryson, Elizabeth Gilbert, and Isabelle Allende to name a few. And movies and television programs with characters so real that when I talk about them you would think I was talking about a friend I've known since elementary school. (Remember that time when Ross and Rachel were on a break?)

I collect them all. I don't simply mean that I like to listen to or read stories and file them away. That is the mere beginning of it! What I mean is that the best ones shape me. They become a part of who I am. My family will gleefully tell you of how I have adopted and adapted their memories. Stories of family dogs, long gone by the time I was born, have been told so many times that I know them by heart and will tell them as my own.

But it goes far beyond the silly, family-pet stories. Often I identify so deeply with other people's stories that I incorporate them into myself. I feel inordinate pride at my friends' successes and indescribable heartache at their struggles and tribulations. By extension, I have been dumped countless times and lost several loved ones. I've lost myself… and found myself. I've peeked under the covers of marriage at the giddiest hope, the deepest fulfillment, and recoiled at the devastation of divorce.

I probably spend half of my life gathering stories from books, from friends and family, or creating my own through whatever experience I can and whatever sights I can see (not all who wander are lost, you know). The other half of my time is sharing them. (Did I ever tell you about the time I slipped getting out of the hot-tub? No? Oh well…another time.) There are pieces of my favorite books that I have read aloud so many times that I have convinced myself of the author's intended tone and inflection. I simply cannot wait to read those pieces to someone who I know - I just know! - will enjoy them as much as I do.

Because, what is the most important part of a story? The audience! That's why writing has never been as much fun for me; it is too far removed from the audience. I need to see and feel the audience's reaction. I take after my uncle in this regard. The better the audience, the more exciting his stories!

In the end, all I can say is 'thank you'. Thank you, to all of the people who read to me as a child, who sat around the dinner table or campfire for hours sharing stories, and who allowed me into your lives enough to witness your stories first-hand. You are a part of me. Your stories have shaped who I am.

And thank you to all the audiences who have listened to my stories at the dinner table, or readings of favorite book excerpts… or have read my rambling posts :-)

What can I say? I am a storyteller at heart.

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