What kind of storytelling are we talking about?

Roller coasters, invasive mint and Battlestar Galactica

Welcome! I’m so glad you’re here.

The question today is:

What do you mean by “storytelling?” That word means so many things. Also, I like your Substack logo.

First of all, thank you, I made it on Canva. Second: yes, great point. What exactly are we doing here? Because there are so many excellent ways and places to tell stories. Fiction, film, journalism, political messaging, history, gossip at brunch, stand-up, the “About Our Vegan Jerky” section of a website.

But in The Story Letter, we’re talking about personal storytelling first, and then applying these tools to all those other kinds of storytelling.

For me, 

Personal storytelling is whenever you narrate your own life experiences.

You might have noticed I didn’t say “whenever you narrate your most fascinating experiences.” Or “narrate those experiences onstage.” Or “in five minutes.” Or even “out loud to other people.” Those are all good, and we’ll talk about them! But I don’t think any of that is necessary for it to be personal storytelling.

In The Story Letter, we’ll talk about the craft of telling a personal story as both expression and reflection: how we can shape our stories, but also how our stories change us.

Personal storytelling could be writing a memoir, keeping a journal, confessing to a close friend, giving a wedding toast, introducing yourself at a job interview, making an autobiographical documentary, performing at a story slam, talking to yourself on a walk— you get the idea. It’s anytime you are reflecting on your memories to describe what happened, and what it means to you. That’s a lot of things! But I am drawing a kind of boundary on the map here, so that we don’t get lost.

And boundaries are helpful, because it feels like storytelling is everywhere.

There’s this thing in the last 15 years or so — people use the word “storytelling” a LOT. It can feel like everything is supposed to be a story: package design, a 3 course meal, the process of logging into TurboTax. For a surprisingly long time, storytelling has been what a marketing exec would call “so hot right now.”

In 2014, I watched an interview with a roller coaster designer who said earnestly, “I consider myself not a roller coaster designer, but a storyteller.” At the time I was very cranky about this stuff, and I wanted to yell “NO! You’re actually a roller coaster designer! That’s cool enough! Let the storytellers be storytellers!”

I’m not quite as salty about it anymore. Storytelling is a hugely powerful metaphor, so if Claussen wants to tell us “every pickle tells a story,” *** I say go for it. 

*** not a real example

(Besides, there are other things to worry about in storytelling, which we’ll get to in a different post– sometimes we’ve got bigger problems than a pickle.)

But here’s the secret: even though we’re sticking to personal storytelling, many of our conversations will apply to political stories, histories, audio journalism, marketing stories, and so on. And that is why I love this work. Because you start by thinking about your own stories in new ways, and then you’re thinking about yourself in new ways, and finally you notice all these new habits of storytelling jumping into other parts of your life and work. It’s kind of like how mint in a planter will actually jump into the next planter over. Did you know that happens? There’s a metaphor for you: Storytelling as both invasive species and delicious garnish.

By the way, while we’re on metaphors: that designer talked about roller coasters as stories. But people also describe a very exciting story as a “roller coaster.” So roller coasters and stories are metaphors for each other. When does that happen?!

I know I seem to be very into roller coasters.

I’m really not. Now that I think about it, it's been a while since I rode a roller coaster, what with being middle-aged and highly anxious, but the last time I did was with my cousin Emily. We went to Disneyland for the day together once in our thirties.

I don’t ride roller coasters as a rule. I don’t like being scared on purpose, and I get motion sick. But Emily was really excited for Space Mountain, and I couldn’t let her down. Do you know Space Mountain? It’s an inside roller coaster that makes it feel like you’re flying through space.

We got to the park super early and there was no line for Space Mountain, which meant we got the front seats, which are even worse than regular seats, obviously. Because if something bad happens, it happens to you first.

Also, I should tell you that at this point I was watching a lot of Battlestar Galactica. That’s a very smart, very addictive science fiction/space opera TV show from the 2000’s. (Battlestar Galactica will almost certainly come up in future Story Letters.)

So I had an idea. Space Mountain takes us through space. Maybe I could help myself be brave by pretending to be my favorite character on Battlestar Galactica: Viper Pilot Kara Thrace. Her call sign is Starbuck. She is the most bad-ass fighter pilot on the show.

So say we all.

So we got strapped in, heard the safety stuff, and the coaster started moving into the dark. But I —  instead of being a terrified 33-year-old with a sunburn and motion sickness — was Starbuck, hot-dogging through space in pursuit of a Cylon ship and desperately trying to escape my past.

And it worked. It was INCREDIBLE. We rode Space Mountain again immediately. Then we ate soup in a bread bowl at 9:15am, which was also incredible.

So is a roller coaster designer a storyteller? Maybe. Maybe not. But put a storyteller on a roller coaster. See what happens.

So…what about you?

In your life, when did telling a story change things in some way?

It could be a story you told yourself, like when I decided I was Starbuck. Or it could be a story you told others, that changed a relationship, or helped you make a hard choice, or got you out of a jam.

You can reflect on your own, or share with a friend — and I would love to hear about it! You can reply to this email to talk to me directly, or leave a comment on Substack.

I might share some readers’ thoughts (with permission) in a future post.

See you in a couple weeks!