Functions of Storytelling

Oops! I Buried the Lead (and how not to)

Oops! I Buried the Lead (and how not to)

What is "burying the lead?" (By the way, "lead" is pronounced like in "leader," not like in "led.")

Writer Nora Ephron told a story about her high school journalism class that explains it. Here's my version of what she said*:

Nora's journalism teacher told the class that "the lead" is the first sentence of a newspaper article, which should summarize concisely what the article is about. That lets readers decide whether they want to keep reading—or else skip to another article.

Next, he read aloud a few sentences along these lines:

Next Thursday, May 28, the faculty of this high school will attend a special training in Sacramento, featuring the anthropologist Margaret Mead and others. The faculty will learn new teaching methods, the principal announced today.

Then the teacher instructed the class members to write down their idea of "the lead" for an article about that "special training" announcement…

Does the World Need Storytelling Coaches? Why?

Does the World Need Storytelling Coaches? Why?

We live in a time when, in many parts of the world, people purposely spread falsehoods about each other.

Every day, people spew untruths about different ethnic or social groups. About folks with different opinions. About those who recommend different courses of action, either as individuals or as a society.

The Skills of Division

Sadly, the skills for fomenting division and misunderstanding have become better and better developed.

A recent example is the forcible occupation of the United States congressional offices—by a group who was convinced (by some of the country's highest-ranking politicians) to believe that the recently reported election results were fraudulent.

Opposing points of view, of course, are necessary in a democracy. But deception and fabrication weaken the social fabric.

Enter the True Story

How can deception be countered?

Is Hope Too Hard for Us?

Is Hope Too Hard for Us?

…Hope is not merely a sunny outlook, nor a denial of the hard facts of our lives. Rather, hope is an accomplishment. Like freedom, it must be re-won in every generation. Maybe in every year.

I'm writing this in December, when, in the northern hemisphere, we experience the age-old journey of our part of the earth into shadow. We enact the rituals developed over eons to celebrate the return to the light.

Many of us focus on one part of those celebrations: the reassurance that the light is coming back. But the holidays also demonstrate that the road to the light leads, necessarily, through the longest, most discouraging night. And that road is best paved with stories…

What are your winter stories?

As I write this, we have just passed the longest night of the year (in the Northern hemisphere). This is the time of darkness and cold.

In the summer and spring, of course, we see life budding out around us. We like stories then that speak of action and growth.

What about the dark days of the year? In the dominant U.S. culture, we act as though nothing happens in winter. Of course, a perennial world – including crocuses, daffodils, lilies and much else – is growing and thriving beneath the surface.

To treat this time of quiet stillness as nothingness is to overlook half the cycle of life.

What Do We Need?

In the winter we need time to come into ourselves, to go down below the surface, to nourish the roots of our being. We need to tend to it, strengthen it, and establish our deep connections to it—so that, when the spring comes, we will be ready for the blooming-forth phase of the cycle.

Yes, we can comfort and console ourselves with stories during the long nights and the short days. But beyond that, let’s be thoughtful: what stories do we each need, to nourish our roots? To ground us in the cold but timeless parts of being human?

As you experience the longest nights of the year, try to notice: what stories are you hungry for?

Where Will You Find Those Stories?

We’re unlikely to find our root stories in the popular-culture mills that provide most TV and movie stories.

Instead, we’ll have to turn to books, to recordings, but most of all to each other and to our communities of storytellers. And even there, we may need persistence to uncover what we seek.

My wish to you during this winter season is that you find the stories that nurture your roots. Perhaps the stories you need are dark, or perhaps they are filled with light. Perhaps they are painful or perhaps hopeful.

By letting these stories do their work in you, you will be honoring that part of your life that our society tends to skip over.

What about you?

What’s your sense of your “winter stories”? Does that idea even make sense to you? Add a comment, below.

A Choctaw Response to Violence: Authenticity?

A Choctaw Response to Violence: Authenticity?

We live in a historical moment where hatred and violence are promoted, not only by individuals and splinter groups, but also by governments. Is it possible that we can learn how to hold onto our true selves in such a moment? 

What’s more, can we learn about that kind of authenticity from Native Americans, who have had a few hundred years of practice at the receiving end of hatred and violence?

Tim Tingle is a Choctaw storyteller and novelist, who work models a sense of connection that is rare in our wider society.

In fact, Tim’s novels for teens and young adults—mostly written in the historical past—show us something about what it might mean to be authentic today…

Tim Tingle: A Choctaw Approach to Authenticity

Tim Tingle: A Choctaw Approach to Authenticity

I first got to know Tim Tingle when I moved to Oklahoma in 2004. After my wife Pam and I had spent time with Tim in several contexts, he invited us to attend the Choctaw Nation’s annual Labor Day Festival in the tribal capitol, Tvshka Homma (Tuscahoma), Oklahoma.

Pam and I had the great privilege there of meeting some of the elders who had taught Tim his stories. But most of all, we got a glimpse of some unspoken parts of Choctaw culture.

A case in point: we heard many stories from Tim and from his friends about the jokes they had played on Tim...

Can We Give Thanks Through Stories?

Can We Give Thanks Through Stories?

We know that stories can inspire, teach, or warn. They can also help us imagine a new future or remember a splendid piece of the past that we may have forgotten.

Can stories also praise? 

Recently, I had occasion to honor "the queen of Jewish storytelling," Peninnah Schram, with a story. Who would you praise with a story?

I invite you to post your praise stories as comments to this article!