In my last blog, I wondered what it would be like to be interviewed for a magazine profile that examined my life. A friend recently shared with me an article that speaks to that interest.

When I was a kid, one of the highlights of visiting my grandmother was catching up on my reading of the back issues of Guideposts magazine. I was fascinated with the personal stories of hope that were told in each of its editions.

Looking back now, I can’t help but wonder if reading Guideposts was one of the formative things that led to my lifelong fascination with story.

Contained therein, then and now, are not stories written by professionals, but by folks – both famous and otherwise – who want to share an inspirational tale that comes from their own experience. That’s the whole purpose of the magazine.

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Edward Grinnan, the current editor-in-chief of Guideposts writes the aforementioned article. In it he describes his hesitancy to share his own story, afraid of the shame he might experience as a result.

And it’s no wonder; Grinnan’s life leading up to his employment at Guideposts is not pretty.

But the story was told in his book after all, thanks largely to the insistence of Grinnan’s wife.

And the editor learned an important lesson. He writes that “…mostly it has gotten me to finally look at the narrative roadmap of my life. I discovered that it is in telling our own stories that we truly find ourselves.”

Ah, there you go! As interesting as it might be to have someone else write about us, the more effective thing is to write that story ourselves.

Self-discovery arises most effectively from self-revelation, and that kind of uncovering comes best, not from someone else’s telling of our stories, but from telling them ourselves.



 
 
You on the cover of a major magazine! Imagine what it would be like to have someone else tell your story.

This idea crossed my mind recently while reading two articles that tell part of the stories of two men, one famous for being in the movies, the other well known because of the tragedy he’s experienced.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to meet an experienced, capable writer of such profiles at a restaurant (with the writer picking up the tab), and then begin to respond to questions about my life.

Where would such a writer want to go with my story? Where would he find his “way in” to telling about me? What would genuinely capture his interest and what would he then determine would interest his readers?

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When it comes to telling our own stories, we have to admit there is little or nothing in the way of objectivity. It would be silly to imagine otherwise. But what about when someone else tells the tale?

Even though journalists often get stuff wrong and may sometimes even twist the telling to serve their own agendas, I suspect there would be something to learn from the experience of having my life’s story told by a magazine writer.

It’s very unlikely that you or I will be the subject of a featured story in a major popular monthly. But there may be other ways to gain the same benefit of an objective observer.

Some of us have this experience when we visit a personal counselor well practiced in the art of reflective listening. “What I hear you saying…” gives the counselee a chance to see their experience in a different light.

So what would happen if we asked a friend – someone trusted, capable, and wise – to listen to us tell our life’s story and then tell it back to us, either in oral or written form?

I’m just playing with this idea right now; considering how it might impact a “listening relationship” I am having with a friend.

But I also want to offer this to you and others as well. Part of what I present in my storyteller role is that of “story coach,” helping others tell the stories of their own lives.

So get in touch with me if this sounds interesting to you. I can’t promise that you’ll end up on the cover of Time, but I feel pretty confident I can help you find a new way in to your own story – and tell it better as a result!


 
 
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The political process can be confusing, to be sure. But it helps to know at least this – it’s all about “controlling the story.”

So in the midst of the current narratives being played out by Sarah Palin and Anthony Weiner, that little guideline might be helpful.

In each situation, there seems to be more confusion than clarity. For Palin, just why is she taking this little bus tour? What will it accomplish beyond exposing her children to a number of our nation’s historic sites? And does she really need a custom-painted bus to accomplish that?

The biggest question, though for me is this: Why is the media making such a big deal out of the tour, committing so much in the way of resources to coverage?

There seems a simple answer. There’s really not much if any news here – unless Sarah chooses one of the stops along the way to announce whether or not she will make a presidential bid. If that happens, no news outlet wants to miss out on the moment.

So Sarah and her entourage control the story, whatever there is to it. It’s safe to assume that, no matter what her purposes in making this trip, she intends to garner as much media attention as possible.

It’s working.


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As for Weiner, and the alleged hack into his Twitter account, there’s just much more bemusement than amusement. Questions abound, among them, why did he give so little attention to addressing the issue in the media, then turn around and talk to almost every outlet? Why was there no out and out denial to begin with, only to finally deny that he had anything to do with it?

And what could he possibly mean about whether or not the picture might actually be him?

It’s all very embarrassing – for Weiner, for reporters who ask inane questions, and for the public who watches it all wind out to who knows what end.

And it’s difficult to figure out what Weiner and his people are hoping to accomplish, but whatever it is, they want to control the story to their own benefit.

Whether or not they accomplish that, the resolution of the story, and who if anyone benefits, will reveal how skilled they are at the process.

 
 
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“Please Note: Our print for ‘Source Code’ is scratched, visible on the right side of the screen. If this is too much of a distraction for you, you may ask for a full refund within the first 30 minutes of the movie.”

Arrrgggghhh! This was not what I wanted to learn upon entering the theater lobby. Duncan Jones, the director of Source Code, had fascinated me with “Moon,” his little sci-fi gem from a few years ago. I expected that he would bring something original to his new treatment of time travel and true love.

He did, and I endured the scratch because I wasn’t sure I would have another opportunity to check out the film on a large screen.

But I wasn’t happy about it.

Presentation matters. The first thing a good storyteller needs is a good story. It’s true that a bad storyteller can get away with bad storytelling if the story is strong enough.

But it’s better – much better – to present the story well.

This is apparent to anyone who has the opportunity to watch a movie at the Indiana University Cinema. Last weekend I accompanied my beloved to a conference in Bloomington, Indiana. Excited as I was to visit familiar places and see friends, I was thrilled to be able to experience this amazing place, which opened last fall just after we moved from the Hoosier State.

In short, the theater is a stunning achievement. With projection that is bright and crisp, and sound that takes one’s breath away, watching a movie here is having the film experience that filmmakers intend for their audiences.

There’s no concession stand, and that’s a good thing. Such an experience should not be sullied by the presence of food.

At a recent presentation of the film “Hoosiers,” the visiting writer, Angelo Pizzo, along with director David Anspaugh, attended to introduce the film and then host a “Q and A” session afterwards. Having seen the film many times, the two had intended to have dinner while the movie was screened.

But when they saw and heard what appeared on the screen, they canceled dinner and stayed.

In other words, they were impressed.

The Cinema’s mission statement states, in part, “Indiana University Cinema is a world-class facility and program that is dedicated to the scholarly study and highest standards of exhibition of film in its traditional and modern forms.”

The "highest standards" bit shows. Storytellers of any type will do well to emulate those standards.

It matters.

Oh, and the movie I saw? “Bill Cunningham New York,” a documentary about a fashion “street photographer” for the New York Times. I recommend it highly, even if you have to see it in a lesser venue!


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Some might say that I’m really not the one, perhaps, to provide a critical perspective on any video game and its storytelling chops, since I haven’t seriously played a first-person game in maybe eight years. But “L.A. Noire,” out today (5/17) has my attention.

This particular title is brought to us by Rockstar Games, the folks who gave us Grand Theft Auto and all the controversy that followed its several iterations. Like GTA, this one promises plenty in the way of violence, coarse language, and, a new introduction – full frontal female nudity.

So there might be some controversy with this one too.

The biggest advance, though, is touted to be the realism of the characters’ faces, the result of MotionScan technology that makes them much more lifelike.

But the intention is to make the game ever more immersive for the player, pulling them into a world they can believe in, even if its setting is over half a century removed.

That’s really the key, right? Now for those who spend untold hours glued to their game platforms, unaware of the massive amount of time the console consumes, there’s all the more reason to be captured so.

And if that’s not enough, in order to make the game setting all the more immersive, Rockstar is releasing a series of short stories based on L.A. Noire. So take a break from playing, and go retro with a written story which uses the same characters you’ve come to know on your monitor!

Well, all the controversy aside, I have to admit that the graphics – available on trailers at the game’s web site – are impressive. I even was able to recognize one of the characters, played by an actor from Mad Men.

(By the way, this avenue for actors seems to be gaining. The Internet Movie Database even includes a trailer for L.A. Noire on its home page today. One of the game’s actors uses a still from the game as his “profile pic.”)

A lot of video games, for quite a while, have made the effort to make their storylines and design cinematic. I suspect the advances on this newest title raise the bar a bit, for good or ill, in that regard. Games are certain to become more and more realistic.

I mean, really, how far can we be from actually plugging ourselves directly into gaming consoles? Talk about immersive.
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Just imagine being ten years old on 9/11/2001. Now imagine being 20 years old when you hear that Osama Bin Laden has been killed. All your friends are out in the streets, chanting “USA! USA!” and waving American flags that seem to have appeared out of nowhere.

Where would you be?

I have no idea what it has been like to be a child, then a teenager, then a young adult living under what feels like the constant threat of who-knows-what-might-happen, in the midst of a war with no end in sight.

More than an ending, a story needs to have some sort of resolution. Even if the resolution comes with a kind of discordant dissonance, there needs to be something that says, “So here’s the result of what happened.”

In a previous blog post
, I wrote about this generation’s youth, and the way they are trying to make sense of something that has so violently shaped their lives. It’s all about the story they will tell, of what their lives have been like and what the results of historical events will be.

In a story that refuses to give any indication of its resolution, the death of Bin Laden provided the next best thing – whatever that is. On some level, it must have felt like resolution to those students in the streets.

I heard a radio story about this matter last week, on This American Life. In that story, a young woman said almost exactly the same thing: it was the “closest thing we had felt” to an ending.

That story helped me to realize that, though the students met news of a man’s death with much the same mixed feelings I did, their visceral response was different. While I was left with quiet resignation and little in the way of relief, they exploded with what might just be hope; hope that they might actually awake some day from this nightmare.

Stories, all kinds of stories, have lives of their own and resist our efforts to nail them down, to mean “just one thing.” The stories of our lives are the wildest of all, and only those of us who live them can come close to discovering what they mean.


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When Katie Couric said she wanted to do more “multi-dimensional storytelling,” my immediate question was, what is that?!  I was intrigued.

Her statement was made, of course, upon Katie’s much-expected announcement about leaving her post as anchor of the CBS evening news show next month. She went on in one report to say, "The bottom line is that I love doing all kinds of different stories."

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Now I read that Ms. Couric wants to do a talk show at CBS, but that those negotiations with the network haven’t gone well.

So that leaves me a little disappointed; not that I’m overly concerned about Katie’s broadcasting future, but I was hoping to see multi-dimensional storytelling more defined. I mean, how does multi-dimensional work in the well-worn world of chat shows? Would it require 3-D glasses?

But I may have found another avenue to answering my question, though the term is different: “transmedia storytelling.”

Transmedia storytelling is “A process where integral elements of a fiction get dispersed systematically across multiple delivery channels for the purpose of creating a unified and coordinated entertainment experience.”

That’s according to a definition given by USC professor Henry Jenkins, who coined the phrase. But don’t get stuck on his use of the word “fiction.” The idea extends beyond that.

And you can read more in this article, but here are the salient points:

First, think multiple platforms, i.e., websites, Twitter, Foursquare, Facebook, toys, comic books, videos, video games, etc. Especially think any media platform that allows for interaction and even shaping of the story.

Second, think marketing. Whether you have TV shows to promote or widgets to sell, the transmedia approach makes the effort to immerse its audience in your “product.” The more avenues – entry points – you have to hook your audience, the greater impact your story will have, at least potentially.

Maybe this is what Katie has in mind after all. If so, I hope she gets her talk show so we get to see how she will do it.

The technological elements of transmedia storytelling might be somewhat daunting; it takes a lot of energy to work on multiple platforms. The individual storyteller on a lonely stage may not want to go too far in that direction.

And it could be risky.

The above-mentioned article’s author writes, “transmedia storytelling recruits the audience as co-authors of the brand narrative, without knowing for certain where it will lead.”

In other words, the storyteller loses more control, and that might just give some tellers pause. Still, though I will likely give my first allegiance to the simplicity of the individual person, spoken word platform, storytellers will do well to consider other avenues for giving their stories life.

As a simple first step for me, I've set up a new Facebook page you are welcome to check out. While there, you’re invited to “Like” me!

Just consider me a transmedia novice.

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It’s first time I’ve ever seen a box of tissues available at a museum. While evident tears are not the norm in such a place, here it made perfect sense.

The Newseum is not what many might think your run-of-the-mill museum. It’s a museum with a decided twist, looking at the world through the collective lens of journalists. One of the newest museums in Washington DC, the curators seem to have done everything right. One of the seeming few that requires an admission fee in DC, the money is well worth the visit.

Displays are very “hands on,” and the Newseum especially recognizes the contemporary power of the moving image. So films are a major part of the experience – even when dealing with presentations about still photography.

And it's the story of a still photographer that prompts the need for that box of tissues.

In a small theater, a short film tells the story of several journalists who covered the events of 9/11. There is a tighter focus on photojournalist William Biggart, who was killed while documenting the events of that tragic day. While watching his story, the audience is given the opportunity again to relive those truly incredible things that took place in New York City – in graphic fashion.

I was struck by the film’s use of video that shows the second plane flying into the second tower that morning. While many media outlets have decided against using the footage, in this context it seems altogether right, if only because it is that image that we have the hardest time comprehending. Seeing it again helps us to see – this actually happened.

I was also taken by the number of young people watching the film, all about high school age and absolutely silent, held rapt by what they were seeing and hearing.

In a blog post last month, I related what I feel is a very important element of storytelling in daily life – the attempt to make sense of our lives.

For a generation that is being shaped by what happened on that September day in Manhattan, I suspect the telling and retelling of this story will be a permanent fixture in their minds, as they try to make sense of something so senseless.

Maybe – with time – most Americans will be able to at least come to terms with what we experienced of civilian airline jets used as weapons against our nation. We will all tell that story repeatedly in the effort, and try to wring meaning from the telling.

Wherever and however the story is told, there likely will always be the need for tissues – readily available.



 
 
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Deaf folks may be the best storytellers around. I was reminded of this last week while sneaking a peak or two at a family gathered around a yogurt store table in Washington, DC. Their animated conversation, using American Sign Language (ASL) was fascinating, even though I certainly didn’t understand all they said.

The use of ASL pretty much begs the speaker to use his or her face especially, but also one’s whole body in order to communicate fully. So the simple act of telling about one’s day presents images literally drawn in the air; both teller and hearer are drawn in by the pictures.

Every storyteller has something to learn from those who speak in sign. Telling a story well begs the use of one’s entire body.

A few weeks ago, at the SXSW Film Festival in Austin, Texas, one filmmaker presented her work with one very notable difference from the rest – there was no soundtrack.

Robin Girard’s 101 Things That Unite and Divide uses “visual storytelling” to communicate its ideas, combining images, presentations in ASL, and “subtitles” to tell something about the deaf experience.

Girard, deaf herself, hopes to give her hearing audiences new insights into the deaf experience. You can see a couple of the film’s vignette’s here.

Sign language is, to be sure, a language all its own, every bit as much as English, Spanish, or French. As such, it expresses a culture that is unique. A lot of hearing folks misunderstand this; that can lead to a lot of frustration.

But when one learns the language, just as in the case of any native tongue, a whole new world opens up.

So the next time you see someone “speaking sign,” don’t be rude, but watch enough to pick up a lesson in story for yourself.


 
 
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I don’t want to sound like a “back in my day” old man, so I’ve decided that I’ll be open to how technology might facilitate storytelling, at least until I’ve had a chance to think it through.

So the “Story Buddies” from Hallmark give me a reason to think about it again. The buddies are stuffed animals that interact with the reading of companion books. Start by pressing the toy’s ear and, along the way, as someone reads aloud, the fluffy friend throws in an occasional “I love you too,” or “Hooray for me!”

The response is influenced by clarity and speed; the makers seem to indicate that young children may not speak well enough for the technology to work. So this is really a three-way transaction – adult, child, and buddy. That’s not a bad thing, since it involves someone besides the kid alone.

I have no doubt that some parents and grandparents will jump right on this idea. It just sounds so cute! But I would offer one word of caution.

Use the Buddy as a model, not a substitute, for interaction with the story.

The best stories are those that draw us in so that we participate, not simply watch and listen.

Hopefully, the Story Buddies will become an effective means of getting into a story and even learning to read. They can model interaction.

But if an adult begins to feel that the child is on the outside looking in, it’s best to remove the Buddy’s batteries right away!

And what about the Story Buddy app – coming soon? Well, the additional level of techno might just make it one step more challenging. Stay tuned…

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