There is one inside of each of us, a storyteller longing to be heard. Everyone likes to talk about one thing more than any other, their story — the one in which they get center stage and can capture a role that makes them larger than life; a hero no less. And why not, who better than I can cast me in the best possible light. Would you, or do you leave out the elements of your story that make you look inept, feeble or reckless? I suspect the answer would be yes even though it would make your story more believable and more, well, human.
Storyteller Mode
Now and then I find myself drifting into storyteller mode only to drop in another snippet for those that have heard just bits and parts of my story. For selfish reasons, I have decided to share just some of the dots leaving much to the reader’s imagination. For now, it’s all the listener needs. If the story lacks flare, I can always add more dots.
Case in point; Long before I met my lovely wife when I was younger and more carefree, I broke my ankle in a somewhat embarrassing way. In an attempt to avoid coming across as inept, feeble or reckless, I would stretch the bounds of reality for those that would ask. If someone asked, I would provide an off the cuff remark. But if the person was gullible, and female, the more creative the story became. It wasn’t like I was running for political office, I was only trying to get someone to hold the door open for me while I tried to get through with my crutches.
I wonder how many believed that my parachute didn’t open and lived to tell about it, which is a far cry from the truth. More on that later – maybe. As I said, I wasn’t running for office; I just found a creative way to break the ice. Perhaps even pocket a phone number or two.
That’s Low
That was then; this is now. Today, that same approach would be considered shallow and superficial even Clinton-esque. After all, what difference does the truth matter anyway? If our stories are meant to make us look heroic, then the skydiving narrative may hold water. If the purpose is to make me look human, then I have some work to do.
Still, as a storyteller, I want to keep that my options open, mainly if I feel the need to leave my audience with the perception that I am larger than life. It’s not like I’m running for office or anything, I’m just trying to add some drama to the retelling of a sleepless night. In my version of my story, I’m pretty sure that no catfish or rabbits were in danger, and any similarity between the characters and situations…places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
Connections Matter
Stories, when taken singularly, are just that; one person’s rendition of event’s. However, where your story intersects with my story, and my story intersects, hypothetically speaking, with a sharpshooter on the west coast and some other guy Philly — the one no one is sure what he does – collectively our story takes on a depth and a richness that is unique and captivating.
It’s that depth that draws people into your story and to mine. It’s sharing what we must endure, our struggle with and against our common enemy. It’s conveying the angst of life-changing events with which others can identify that makes our stories worth telling and will prompt them to pause and to listen. Stories of resolve, of tenacity and of courage demonstrated by a few average Joe’s that enjoy an occasional beer can and do change lives.
Welcome to my story. I’m just an average Joe, who enjoys an occasional beer, trying to avoid the gopher holes under the volleyball nets of life. I decided it was time to come clean after all these years; just in case I decide to run for office someday.
Care to follow along?
Yes, Ivy gophers are real. They aren’t just inflatables that people put in their yard in the fall.
Al and his faithful, rodent eradicating sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup
Those would be wolverines, Ivy.