Thursday, June 20, 2013

It’s been a while since I’ve talked about skill acquisition, which was my de facto framework a few years ago, and a large reason is a shift of self. Instead of placing a premium on learning how to do stuff, I’ve been valuing the what and the who–the experience, and the people, are what matter now. That said, there’s been one skill I’ve been mulling over recently, and proficiency, or even mastery, would likely have far-reaching benefits. And that’s how to tell a story.

What really got me thinking about this skill was a business meeting last week. In case you’re wondering whether this is the beginning of a tale of redemption, where the meeting went horribly awry and compelled me to do some deep soul-searching, it’s not. It was an important two-hour presentation, and we crushed it. But even as I was speaking, I had this nagging feeling that I should be doing something differently. The complexity of my demo came across well enough, as intended, but even though we were looking at a spreadsheet, could it transcend its nature and be absolutely riveting? I think it’s possible.

I get the same nagging feeling, sometimes, when I’m conversing about my past. Something about the shape of the story will just seem off. Perhaps it’ll be too long, or too short, or the order could be better arranged. It’s curious, when you think about how we all respond to the narrative tradition, and yet the telling can be so difficult. Still, if stories can get me to go to church, then there’s a power to them. The steps I’ve taken to crack this nut are simple. I’ve started being more aware about how my favorite movies, shows, and games are spun. I’ve also gone meta, with talk about talk. Maybe one day, after I figure all this out, I’ll sit you down, collect my thoughts, and then recall an era when I didn’t know how to tell a story, once upon a time.