Annette Simmons

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Storytelling Moral Survival System: part 12 (suggestions)

Make sure your stories always make your own heart sing.

Make sure your stories always make your own heart sing.

Art Your Heart into Storytelling

I worry that people who promise to science the shit out of storytelling haven’t been doing it long enough to understand how linear reasoning can ruin the flow of the creative process. Wise mystics used stories precisely to capture life’s mysteries intact, so anyone who promises to de-mystify storytelling needs to either explain how to re-mystify these paint-by-number stories or stop oversimplifying the process. If you agree, I believe the answer is to always put your heart into every story you find, develop, and tell. Not someone else’s hypothetical heart, but yours, the one that beats inside your chest when you feel inspired and suffers when you see others suffer. Now that storytelling ideas and advice are increasingly translated to suit the goals of technology and digital media, protecting a few primary concepts from being sliced and diced will help storytellers stay in touch with centuries of storytelling wisdom that is impossible to accommodate in linear binary formats. Novelist Haruki Murakami explains it this way: “In many cases, it’s because works that critics see as analytically excellent fail to win the natural empathy of readers.”

Excerpt from Chapter 11, 3rd ed. of The Story Factor (2019)  AUDIBLE VERSION HERE

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Storytelling Moral Survival System: Part eleven (templates)

Design thinking is a form of story thinking.

Design thinking is a form of story thinking.

 

User Experience Stories: As <Persona> I want <What?> so that <Why?>

I remember teaching storytelling to Microsoft engineers in the early 2000s and explaining what I thought of as “story thinking” only to be told “no, that’s design thinking!” And it is, sort of. For me story thinking has always been agile enough to examine, test, and respond to intangible beliefs, values, emotions, as well as measurable feedback. Design thinking and Agile methods (project management processes that incorporate frequent reassessment and adaptation) simply formalize the sequence that best leads to functionally and perceptually rewarding goals. Developed to improve software design, User Experience (UX) templates and methods blend the work of a team of designers in ways that keep conclusions flexible and responsive as situations change. One way they keep things flexible is to pursue goals that feature users’ perceptual interpretations as “user stories.”

UX designers combine interviews (stories) and data to categorize consumers into personas, so they can fill in the blanks: “As <Persona> I want <What?> so that <Why?>” This template definitely keeps technology responsive to subjective human needs. The UX definition of a user story applies to the specific purpose of design, but the design-thinking process that goes with the idea of UX stories is exactly how I teach executives to find stories that connect and communicate a message. It introduces the discipline of testing whole stories in realistic circumstances rather than evaluating bits and pieces of a story against hypothetical scenarios. The Agile process encourages us to spend more upfront time in discovery (observing and listening to existing stories), and finding current patterns, before establishing guidelines (what is most important), so we can test and retest new stories until they click. The UX process puts first things first when it comes to storytelling.

The only danger with UX philosophy from my point of view, is the habit of characterizing all emotionally driven behaviors as “cognitive biases” (systematic errors). Putting all emotional reasoning into a basket labeled “systematic errors” makes it hard to reinforce moral biases that are only irrational in the short term but represent centuries of emotional reasoning for when, where, and how to override short term quid pro quo expectations in favor of long-term goals. Discrediting emotional reasoning creates emotion-less systems. To the overly rational, moral behaviors look like errors in judgment. We must be wary of people who suggest we “change the story,” when what they really mean is for us to change the morals that have put a dent in short term profits.

Emotion-based decision-making can be wrong, but that does not mean it is always wrong, or that emotions aren’t absolutely necessary for human decision – making. For instance, seeing a packed parking lot at a restaurant might make you decide to eat there, even though your emotions are biasing you to treat a correlation called social proof as if it were cause and effect. Packed parking lots do not cause good food. You were right for the wrong reasons. But jumping to the conclusion that cognitive biases like trusting social proof, basing choices on availability, or habits of loss avoidance are irrational and therefore wrong, ignores the fact that these habits have proven useful for centuries. When systems exploit rather than support cognitive biases, they potentially undermine critical reservoirs of social trust. For instance, social proof is a bias that encouraged cave men to drink water others had already tested. Categorizing “social proof” as a systematic error sidesteps moral concerns over manufacturing social proof by say, buying millions of Twitter followers. This betrayal undermines long-term trust in social proof to the point that collaboration becomes less and less likely.

Another bias called “loss avoidance” may also play a critical role to encourage “better safe than sorry” patterns that help us over-ride short term impulses in favor of living to fight another day. When storytellers exploit this bias by discouraging delayed gratification with threats of loss (“act now, offer ends soon!”) it erodes our emotional system for moderating unwise impulses. Stories that frame not voting as a way to avoid loss erode faith that voting—imperfect as it is—will allow us to avoid much bigger losses down the line.

Excerpt from Chapter 11, 3rd ed. of The Story Factor (2019)  AUDIBLE VERSION HERE

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Storytelling Moral Survival System: Part ten (templates)

What goes up must come down...but does that make it a story?

What goes up must come down…but does that make it a story?

Story as Problem/Solution

It’s tempting to define story as a simple problem/solution equation. But problem/solution doesn’t accommodate the reality that humans experience problems that are simultaneously external and internal, and frequently caused by ourselves as much as the actions of others. Limiting a story to a format of problem/solution risks forcing a narrative to misrepresent certain solutions as more effective than they actually are. For instance, stories in the 1990s that blamed inconsistent standards as a primary cause of inadequate education led to massive investments in standardization and common core curriculums. Yet increasing the consistency of standardized approaches has not proved to the be the cure these stories promised. In many circumstances standardization actually decreased teachers’ ability to adapt their methods to suit the natural inconsistencies of diverse situations.

Run an experiment on yourself to test the results of using problem/solution as a format. Pull up a real-life significant emotional experience and impose the problem/solution frame on it until you can see for yourself what gets lost in translation. I’ve got one. The problem: I wasn’t happy living in my hometown. The Solution: I moved. The missing elements of the story are that I still love many aspects of my hometown. My mother is living and I have great friends there. I told my mother that I moved for business reasons but that’s not entirely true, either. I didn’t want to be rude, but I also wanted to be in a more diverse culture that was in better economic shape than my hometown. Plus, I really like starting over because it’s a creative process. And of course, I might end up unhappy again in my new town if I’m simply in the habit of being unhappy. If I told the story as if moving solved my problems it would be a misleading oversimplification.

Excerpt from Chapter 11, 3rd ed. of The Story Factor (2019)  AUDIBLE VERSION HERE

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Storytelling Moral Survival System: Part nine (templates)

Stories that cherry-pick correlations and represent them as causation can be misleading.

Stories that cherry-pick correlations and represent them as causation can be misleading.

A Story Spine

The best storytelling templates arise from the arts. Improv artist Kenn Adams laid out what he called a “story spine” as a mechanism to help children and adults play with improvisational theatre. According to Kenn, the origin of his template arose from his desire to bring arts, creativity, and improv play to more people. The template is a guide for creating characters and a plot that produces a spontaneous play that is as satisfying to the players as the audience.

Pixar Studios uses a similar template to provide structure to illustrate core human conflicts with a story.

Once upon a time there was ___. Every day, ___.
One day ___.
Because of that, ___.

Because of that, ___.
Until finally ___.
(And ever since that day______.)
A beginner storyteller given this template might find fill in the blanks with merely plausible events and characters instead of looking to personal experiences with real people, actual life events, and the sensations of time and space. No template can correct for a storyteller who doesn’t remember to “write what you know.” It’s worth noting that this template is only one part of Pixar’s 22 rules of storytelling. Without the other twenty-one rules the template could be limited to creating merely feasible characters negotiating hypothetical situations. Apply the other twenty-one rules, such as “remember that what is most fun to write doesn’t necessarily translate into what is most interesting to an audience,” and the template becomes much more useful.

Story as Cause/Effect

The novelist E.M. Forster famously stated that “the king died then the queen died” was not a plot until adding the detail that the queen died “of grief”. Some have interpreted this to mean that stories set up clear cause/effect relationships. It’s not a bad way to hunt for a plot – love sets you free, pride leads to a fall, etc. – but this method risks oversimplifying relational truths, and correlations. Love usually kicks your butt before it sets you free and pride leads to wins as well as losses. Whenever a storyteller forces a story to suggest an easy cause/effect relationship he runs the risk of omitting complexities that render the story as recognizably realistic. Perhaps the king killed the queen’s lover before he died. Her grief gets a bit more complex and the reader is offered more freedom to come to his or her own conclusions.

There are risks to restricting a story to the format of cause and effect. We create unnecessary problems when we tell a story that suggests a clear single cause and direct effect, when the truth is far more complex. Cause/effect stories can discredit story-supported social norms, like the golden rule. For instance, if a story translates “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” into a cause/effect relationship, it unilaterally suggests treating people fairly automatically causes others to treat you fairly in return. Forcing a story to characterize any human dilemma as an effect of a single cause unwittingly encourages oversimplified solutions that don’t work in real life. Even when simple parables imply cause/effect sequences, the goal is to reinforce reliably accurate correlations—not statistically provable causes and effects. Within storytelling, then, be advised that impressions of cause/effect are usually metaphorical and correlational.

Excerpt from Chapter 11, 3rd ed. of The Story Factor (2019)  AUDIBLE VERSION HERE

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Storytelling Moral Survival System: Part eight (templates)

South Park writers Trey Parker and Matt Stone popularized the application of “And, But, Therefore” as good storytelling advice.

South Park writers Trey Parker and Matt Stone popularized the application of “And, But, Therefore” as good storytelling advice.

“And, But, Therefore”

Contrast is key to the structure of any story. For example, characters with a recognizable internal struggle provide the most engaging points of reference. It is actually easier to visualize a CEO who takes paternity leave, a hero who stutters, or an enemy who loves dogs than it is to imagine a one-dimensional character. Contrast in storytelling reflects the effect of painting red and yellow stripes side by side. The contrast makes both elements more vivid than they are when seen in isolation. The “and/but/therefore” template is a good way to keep contrast lively. In this framework, rather than progressing smoothly through narrative with only “ands,” a storyteller is encouraged to revisit conflict and consequences in the form of “buts” and “therefores.” For instance the character who hears a hotel’s fire alarm and grabs his briefcase and runs outside is less memorable than a character who hears the alarm and runs outside, but then remembers he left his briefcase containing $50,000 and therefore runs back into the smoke-filled lobby.

South Park writers Trey Parker and Matt Stone popularized the application of “And, But, Therefore” as good storytelling advice. This template reminds us to refresh a story’s core contrast by illustrating wins and setbacks that make the core conflict feel more tangible. Parker and Stone suggest “whenever you can replace your ‘ands’ with ‘buts’ or ‘therefores’, it makes for better writing.” These writers know deep in their bones how to keep a cartoon TV series interesting. And this is great storytelling advice as long as we don’t invent random conflicts. Adding random “buts” unrelated to a story’s core conflict dilutes the realism and coherence of a story in ways that shift perceptions away from the true conflict.

Good storytellers come to understand that the “but’s” and “therefores” they seek already exist and only need to be emphasized. Margaret Atwood even demonstrates how “and, but, and therefore” can exist within a single sentence in her book, A Handmaids Tale: “Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.”  Which I take to mean that you may force me to say you didn’t hurt me, but you did hurt me, therefore I work to hide my hurt as well as work to endure the hurt.

Of course, the whole book goes into much greater detail about the price women pay when we remain silent about injustice. A Handmaids Tale vividly imagines the long-term emotional and physical consequences of silence in a way that makes the long-term consequences of “therefore I stay silent” demonstrably worse than the short-term consequences of the implicit alternative: “therefore I speak up.” Atwood affirms that every event and character in A Handmaid’s Tale was based on real people and real events. “If I was to create an imaginary garden I wanted the toads in it to be real. One of my rules was that I would not put any events into the book that had not already happened.” Storytellers like Atwood understand that the best way to ensure a narrative feels real is to base it on reality, and reality is full of contrasts.

Excerpt from Chapter 11, 3rd ed. of The Story Factor (2019)  AUDIBLE VERSION HERE

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Storytelling Moral Survival System: Part seven (templates)

Marya Morevna had already captured and contained the Evil Wizard that Ivan let loose and then had to recapture. And they called Ivan the hero?

Marya Morevna had already captured and contained the Evil Wizard that Ivan let loose and then had to recapture. And they called Ivan the hero?

Templates for Storytelling
It is part of the storyteller’s art to tinker with details. Story templates are a wonderful shortcut to framing a message (moral) as a story. We must heed a few words of warning, though. The risk of relying on a favorite format is that every story cooked according to the same recipe may begin to sound the same. Turning storytelling into a template runs the risk of a convenience that may miss the depth and emotion that offers proof of life. Reducing stories to mere formulas undermines the crazy irrational promises that love, trust, and generosity are worth it, even when they cost time and money in the short term.It’s also important to remember that any template a storyteller develops tends to reflect the goals and values of that storyteller. My own bias towards preserving connections above all fuels the following commentary on the strengths and weakness of several story templates. This is not meant to be an exhaustive list, it is simply a set of example approaches that can help as well as distort.

Template One: Hero’s Journey

In 1949, Joseph Campbell’s book The Hero with a Thousand Faces made a strong case that all cultures share a common monomyth: the hero’s journey. The hero’s story line is often drawn as a circular journey from what is known into the unknown and back again, with the hero growing wiser from the journey. The hero first refuses, then accepts a call to adventure, and with the help of a mentor, explores the unknown, risks high stakes, loses, wins, loses big, wins big, and then returns transformed by the triumph. This story template can celebrate individual goals as well as collective goals.

Campbell’s work reflects his own authentic search for meaningful life lessons. But he was more of a literary scholar than an anthropologist, and his theory of one monomyth does not reflect critical variations that might have become more obvious had he conducted fieldwork within the cultures he studied. Still, his summation of a universal hero journey illustrates how many cultures’ myths direct us to address complex conflicts with courage, to leave what is known, seek what is not yet known, show kindness to strangers, ask for help, and find mentors.

The problem is, when storytellers cut corners on traditional hero stories to increase speed, convenience, or get straight to the exciting parts it often erases the lesson in these stories. Edits may drop scenes that not only change the story and its emotional effectiveness, but also lose important wisdom absolutely critical to our collective survival.

The first episode of a recent TV series titled Myths and Monsters, summarized a complicated Slavic story about Koschei the Deathless Wizard. The TV version omitted traditional details about how Ivan, the hero, was actually responsible for setting the evil wizard free in the first place. How? Ivan didn’t listen to his wife, Marya Morevna (her name was the original title of this story). Starting this story with Marya offers a different moral lesson. Marya was the warrior princess Ivan married. He came to live in her castle (not his). Marya had already locked the dangerous wizard securely in a room. However, when she left her castle on a war campaign, she asked Ivan to promise to leave one particular door—the door to the evil wizards’ cell—locked while she was away. She didn’t tell him why. From the moment Ivan makes his promise, we can guess what will happen next—curiosity will do what it does. And sure enough, once she is gone, Ivan opens the door, the wizard escapes. The rest of the story is about Ivan trying to make things right again.

As in many hero stories, the original Ivan did three good deeds near the beginning of his journey. These good deeds offered no immediate payback and no promise of a return on his “investment.” Traditional stories regularly portray heroes displaying acts of random kindness early in their journey that unpredictably pay off much later when these characters find a way to help the hero. The moral lessons reinforce personal sacrifices to share food, save a baby bird, or oil a tin man in order to build support for the future. The moral of the story is a pattern of expectation that random kindnesses contribute to future help. Many traditional stories reinforce the Karmic theme that both generosity and selfishness are returned in kind, eventually. Without stories to reinforce our faith that short-term inconveniences and personal sacrifices that help others might accumulate to deliver positive long-term returns, these inconveniences and sacrifices begin to seem inefficient or worse, unnecessary.

Hero stories either help us frame human struggles as a complex struggle between good and evil, or they oversimplify complex choices by editing the story to remove these sequences. Screenwriters, filmmakers, and authors have repeatedly proven the value of the hero story as a solid structure for producing blockbuster movies and books. Many storytellers, most notably Star Wars creator George Lucas, have mined the hero story template as a framework. Listeners stay engaged as long as each stage symbolizes a human dilemma we recognize.

When applied to business storytelling specifically, the big advantage of the hero story is that it helps you characterize your customer as the hero of his/her own journey and casts your role as helper. Customers like that. Trial lawyers also mine the advantages of treating jurors as truth-seeking heroes. Framing a message as coming from a mentor to a hero simulates the trustworthiness of mentor relationships. Taking up the helper/mentor role also keeps us from the dangers of ivory-tower thinking. In most traditional stories, the wisdom of humility and connection usually wins out over dominating forces in the end. These stories illustrate the benefits of humility and remind us that superiority just makes people stupid.

The real beauty of the hero template is the opportunity to personify the flesh and blood experiences of negotiating the tough parts of living a meaningful life. We feel a visceral pleasure when a story helps us explore dangers, test values, or vicariously risk our lives without real personal risk. And yet, we should remember that, in an interview with Bill Moyer, Campbell revised his idea that myths exist to provide meaning with the idea that myths specifically represent the contrasts and conflicts that make us feel more alive. The shadow of death makes being alive suddenly more significant and visceral. Paradise is more precious after it is lost. If you place your palms together you can feel how pressure from your left palm creates sensation in the right and vice versa. We can better feel alive, loved, included, happy, or safe when these joys are juxtaposed against opposite experiences. Just as the powerful sensation of skin on skin reminds us we are not alone, conflict and contrasts produce the most meaningful drama.

The most engaging heroes struggle with universal paradoxes of good/evil, individualism/collectivism, safety/freedom, logic/love, rules/relationships, etc. and illustrate how solutions for these aspects of life are usually both/and rather than either/or. Campbell himself said it this way, “We have only to follow the thread of the hero path, and where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence. Story genius Robert McKee says essentially the same thing when he advises screenwriters to ensure that every scene presents a difficult dilemma because easily resolved dilemmas are borr-r-ring.

Excerpt from Chapter 11, 3rd ed. of The Story Factor (2019)  AUDIBLE VERSION HERE