How Storytelling Can Surprise You

Every year for the past several years I’ve set a writing goal for myself. Up until now it has been related to my fiction. Number of stories submitted, types of publications, etc. But this year I’ve decided will be a year of intentional growth. Of trying new things to see what does and doesn’t add to my arsenal of skills.

This year I settled on branching out to nonfiction writing—essays, specifically. (My own form of thought leadership, as it were.) I searched for essay opportunities, found an intriguing contest to enter, and I was eventually selected as a finalist.

It was a fantastic start to my sense of achievement with my new goal. But the adventure had just begun. Because the essay was just part one of the competition.

Part two—the part I had breezily overlooked in the assumption that it might be done virtually or even optionally—was a live debate with the other finalists about the topic at hand.

I blame my inner and outer introvert for that oversight. Or maybe my storytelling self couldn’t see the forest for the tantalizing trees.

Or maybe she knew better than me all along.

My comfort zone is obviously writing. But as I have always proclaimed, storytelling is done in many media. Just because rhetoric and debate were not in (even the same hemisphere as) my comfort zone didn’t mean this experience wasn’t for me.

So, I put on my big-girl comfy overalls, made the trip to New York Mills, Minnesota (with sightseeing opps along the way because it was my first visit to the state and I am a nerd), met fantastic people, and I won that contest.

How? I told my story.

The topic was whether freedom of speech is worth the cost. Incredibly timely given the state of the world these days, but also a timeless question.

Depending on who you are.

And that was the story of my essay. Who I am and my lived experience as a woman, as an African American, and all the things that entails in terms of being talked over, stripped of story, or silenced altogether.

Reading my essay aloud and looking out at the sea of faces that looked nothing like my own, I thought my story wasn’t resonating. That my experience was too different from the people in the audience.

But I was clearly wrong. People came up to me in the intermission, in the hallways, even in the bathroom to tell me how heartfelt and relatable and inspiring my words had been to them in both my essay and my responses to the moderator’s questions.

In this case it was less about the specifics and more about the sense of authenticity and humanness that my story conveyed. It’s something that I always hold in mind for my clients, so it was nice to see it play out in my own life.

When we think about the power of brand and marketing to change people’s opinions, actions, or lives, that power comes from the story being told. Too often the possibilities are overlooked in favor of quick hits or the uninspired use of time-honored tropes for good-enough storytelling.

But the power of great storytelling—intentional, authentic, crafted storytelling—can surprise you with its reach, its impact, and its influence on what happens next for both you and your audience.



Image © Michelle Mellon