Speech Acts and Storytelling
The three levels of magic
Big news: My debut memoir, You Will Not Recognize Your Life, comes to Audible December 12! In 2006, I was a third-grade teacher desperate for love who joined a mysterious "goddess training" course so I could manifest the perfect life. This funny, heartfelt memoir follows my journey from vision boards to real magic - and the unexpected places I found it. Pre-order now.
My first year of undergrad, I took a linguistic anthropology class that was notable for a couple reasons. First, there was a hot sophomore who sat next to me all semester so he could copy my notes. This was extremely exciting. But this class also introduced me to one of my top three favorite linguistics theories: speech act theory. While linguistics can get very technical (and I get lost easily), there's something magical about speech act theory and storytelling that I've been thinking about lately.
Because here's the thing: stories aren't just descriptions of what happened – they're actions that create change in the world.
Speech act theory suggests that anything we say operates on three different levels simultaneously:
The literal level - just the actual words you're saying, and what you’re describing or declaring. We rarely think about this level in isolation because we're so used to our words being for a purpose. The only example I have, of speech just existing on this level, is from when I taught preschool: during a class discussion about, say whales, kids would raise their hands and, with absolutely no context or subtext, declare things like "I have a suitcase" or "My mom says fuck." So pure.
The intentional level - what you intend to do with your words. We can have both conscious and unconscious intentions. Am I trying to apologize? Explain? Entertain? Impress? What effect do I want to have on the world? Think about telling a story at a dinner party - maybe you're sharing your spilling-wine-on-the-bride story because you want to make people laugh, or because you want sympathy, or because you're trying to show that you can laugh at yourself. The intention shapes how you tell it.
The effect level - what actually happens when you speak. This is separate from intention because you can't guarantee your intended effect. That wine-spilling story you told to be funny? Maybe it actually makes someone feel less alone about their own social fail. Or maybe you're trying to apologize with a story about why you were late, but your explanation comes across as an excuse. Sometimes our intentions don't match the effect, and sometimes there are effects beyond what we imagined.
There are certain rare speech acts where society has agreed that the words themselves have the power to change reality - like when an ordained person says "I now pronounce you married," or when a judge says "I’m dismissing this case." These aren't just descriptions or intentions; they're actions that legally change the world. But I'd argue that all our stories have their own kind of transformative power, even if it's not legally binding.
Let me give you an example that shows how all three levels can work together - and sometimes surprise us. In 2016, I taught a workshop for abortion providers who were preparing for a national conference. They wanted to craft compelling first-person narratives about their work – stories they could use in talks or pull out during happy hours with doctors who might not share their views. They wanted to change hearts and minds.
On the literal level, they were sharing their experiences of providing healthcare. On the intentional level, they wanted to craft persuasive stories that would help other doctors understand the importance of their work. And we covered all the basics: structure, tone, choosing powerful details, reading your audience.
But something unexpected happened at the effect level, that third level. At the end of the workshop, someone raised their hand and thanked everyone — they explained that hearing everyone’s stories had made them feel less alone in their work. Even as these storytellers practiced for future conversations, their stories were already creating belonging, reinvigorating purpose, building community right there in the room.
Do we need to be aware of all three levels all the time? I don’t think so. Success isn't always about matching our intentions to our effects. Sometimes there are effects separate from our intentions. But understanding these levels can help us be more intentional about our storytelling - and more appreciative of the unexpected magic that can happen when we share our stories.
We're saying what happened, yes, and we're trying to do something, yes – but we're also creating something in the room, in our post, in our email. We are affecting the world with the words that we say.
And I think that's pretty lovely.
Respectfully and enthusiastically yours, Micaela
P.S. Have you ever told a story that had an unexpected effect on your listeners - or on yourself? I'd love to hear about it in the comments!
Beautiful! I love that I now have new language to understand the levels and power of story!
I love how you weaved in the academic insight.