Superior Storytelling
 
by editor SemperFi (currently offline)
 

Reading is one of the most intimate acts available to humans.  While so engaged, the individual listens to the story in his or her own voice, the very same sounds that have been reverberating in the reader’s mind since she or he became sentient.  With a good story, that voice is clean; its inflections, crisp.  When reading a less than stellar work, however, the voice sounds muffled and sometimes unintelligible.  We seem to be telling ourselves that we don’t really want to hear the words we’re reading.  We crave hearing our own excited voices tell an author’s story, but we feel violated when we realize that we’ve been duped into wasting our time.  As a result, we develop an individual appreciation for, and the ability to choose stories we consider good.  As writers of stories, be they fiction, nonfiction or even the ubiquitous after action review, it’s easy to see where we fit in this scenario.

Why we like what we like

So, reading is an intimate act and we develop an appreciation for specific types of material while we disdain other types.  But what quality is it about the different forms of writing that either pleases or infuriates us? Largely, it’s the story being conveyed.  For example, it isn’t difficult to recognize why stereo instructions are universally despised.  They’re reviled by readers in the same way that the federal budget, product specifications or pre-flight checklists are tolerated rather than enjoyed.  Each of these example texts fails to include an element essential to most forms of writing, a story.  As a result, the poor readers subjected to successive paragraphs full of passive voice and diagrammatic explanations are bored beyond redemption—no matter how important the words might be.  Conversely, a well-written story can hold a reader’s attention as it teaches, chides or simply entertains.  In essence, becoming a competent storyteller should be one of the primary skills we seek in our advancement as writers, regardless of what we write.

Universal appeal

As we know, not all writing has a universal appeal.  Indeed, the only smiles to be seen at the unveiling of the next federal budget will be on the faces of those who have finally finished writing it; the readers, largely the staffers toiling away incognito in the offices of our elected representatives, will view the massive volume with dread, scorn or both.  On the other hand, imagine the kudos that would be showered on the writer who is finally able to relate a story as she explains the functioning of a new cell phone, the reasons behind a proposal or even a budget.  Of course, without a plausible and engaging story, no piece of writing will ever see publication.  At the same time, that story must at least demonstrate the potential for universal appeal before it can even be considered a candidate for publication.  In fact, there are legions of agents and acquisitions editors hard at work right this very minute deciding whether an author’s precious efforts hold the promise of such universal appeal.  And how is that universal appeal defined? There is no a single definition.  If there were, the act of writing would be formulaic and virtually any schmo with a word processor could hit the New York Times Best Seller List.  Still, there are some common elements that, when combined in the correct mystical recipe, can result in a good story.

The Storyteller’s Toolbox

There are several tools a writer can use to craft an effective story and these can be applied to virtually any type of writing.  One, surely, would be the efficacy of the author’s original premise.  Without a good plot to map the overall direction of the story, the writing exercise would simply be that: an exercise.

Then, the premise of the story must sustain a population of characters (protagonist, antagonist, supporting cast) that is more interesting than the people we observe every day on the Metro.  Good stories embrace the extraordinary, so the characters, while believable, must stand apart from the mass.

Another aspect of a universally appealing story is that most are related over rather brief periods of time.  A good mystery addresses the crime, not what the criminal or victim received on his fourth birthday (unless that fact is germane to the plot, of course).  An intriguing biography may support a longer timeline; however, the facts being related must then be sufficiently interesting and demonstrate the subject’s elevation from the norm to offset the extended calendar.

Conflict, as well as its resolution, also must be conspicuously evident in a good story.  An author who relates a tale of mind-numbing assembly-line work had better include some palpable conflict in the story to stimulate a reader’s interest.  Indeed, Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t have been much of a story if the two had simply met, fallen in love and lived happily ever after.

Keep storytelling in mind whenever you write.

In writing just these few observations, it’s more than apparent that every good story is a unique work of art and every author an artist.  Yet while it’s true that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, the stories we read should have a substantial amount of appeal.  The publishing houses, marketing agencies and famous names that join in bringing stories to the general reading public must be relatively certain that their efforts and investments won’t have been in vain.  The author must first convince these guardians of our national consciousness that there is no small amount of universal appeal included in the story.  And when that finally happens, the rest of us will be—should be—duly impressed.

The next time you sit down to write a report about your trip to Roswell, New Mexico or your idea about a cure for the common cold or your determination to get that job, keep your audience in mind.  Paint a word picture for your readers that vividly describes what you did, how you did it and why it was important.  Give them a story with a beginning, middle and end, which is entertaining and informative.  After all, you’re an author.