H is for... healing

The cracked pot, an Indian story.


A water-bearer carries two large pots on a yoke across his shoulders up the hill from the river to his master's house each day. One has a crack and leaks half its water out each day before arriving at the house. The other pot is perfect and always full of water after the long walk from the river.

Finally, after years of arriving half-empty, the cracked pot apologized to the water-bearer. It was miserable. "I'm sorry that I couldn't accomplish what the perfect pot did."
The water-bearer says, "What do you have to apologize for?"

"After all this time, I still only deliver half my load of water. I make more work for you because of my flaw."

The man smiled and told the pot. "Do you see all the lovely flowers growing on the side of the path where I carried you? I noticed your leak and scattered seeds. The flowers are so lovely because of the water you leaked. There are no flowers on the perfect pot's side."



None of us is without flaw, without pain, without scars and cracks.

When we tell our own stories of pain and survival, we heal. When we listen to others tell their stories, we heal. You don't have to be a therapist, you need only be an ordinary compassionate human being who listens to someone else. As tellers, we can process our own pain and turn it into performance that is, as Elizabeth Ellis puts it, a roadmap to hell and back. I went there, the same place you are now. I survived. I returned and I healed. Here is a map. 

Storytelling helps us heal. I have seen miracles. The woman who began telling the story of her rape, over and over, and now sings praise songs to the universe. The man who told the story of his son's birth and death, so he and his family could heal, discovering along the way that he was actually celebrating his son's life. My own retellings of fairy tales and myths that are really about mental illness or loss. Storytelling helps us heal.

This has been the case since we began to communicate; think of Prometheus' terrible pain, of Ishtar's grief, on and on. Story has the capacity to help us heal. I address healing story in organizations here.

There are some wonderful online resources to get you started with healing story. Here are a few of my favorites.

• The Healing Story Alliance an organization dedicated to storytelling as a healing art.
• Postsecret a website where anyone can anonymously share a secret and we realize none of us are alone in the dark.
• Healing Histories a neighborhood in New Orleans collected stories to heal post-Katrina.
• Elisa Pearmain is a storyteller and my friend. She uses story for peace work, healing and more. She has written several books of these tales.
• Lastly, the biggest example of healing story I can image: The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in post-apartheid South Africa. Rather than imprison or kill those who had committed atrocious acts of bigotry, a nation told their story. People listened to each other and decided to build something better. While the impact is debatable, it was done without bloodshed. This is nothing short of miraculous, and it was all done through story.

Spider Robinson, a wise and wonderful science fiction writer, wrote Shared pain is lessened, shared joy increased. Storytelling is the vehicle. Let us heal together.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

G is for... gratitude

Our storytelling alphabet continues.

Thus far we have:
A is for about
B is for beginnings
C is for character
D is for death
E is for ethics and endings
F is for fun.

Today is about gratitude.

We are so lucky to do this work. No matter the size of your audience, if you have one person who really wants to hear you, you're far luckier than many, many people. No matter what critique you get if you get up and tell again, we are lucky and strong and should be grateful for the opportunity. No matter if you fail, make a mistake, struggle with jealousy or insecurity or any of the other demons that haunt us, every time we stand on a stage, we are so lucky that we can step beyond our own limitations.

We are so lucky to hear these stories. Every time we listen to a story we are being shown into someone else's world in a deep and intimate way. Every time we listen deeply to a storyteller we are giving them the gift of doing the work they love. Every time we are kind to a beginning storyteller or are moved by an accomplished one, we are opening ourselves up to awe, to connecting with someone else, to stopping the tumult for just a little while.

All of this is no accident. By our own hard work, talent and the whim of the universe, we are able to stand up and tell stories in front of interested audiences, be they kids, festival crowds, business people or conference attendees.

I once told my apprentice, just before her first big gig, to love her audience. We went to the balcony and looked down at everyone and I urged her to open her heart, to love each listener, to be grateful to them for their attendance. I do this every time I perform. I look at my listeners, I love them silently and I thank them out loud. It helps me be a better storyteller and more responsive to my audience.

Be grateful. Be grateful for every performing opportunity, for every audience member, for every time you hear a story even if you're heard it a million times already. When we are grateful we expand the possibilites for storytelling. Our gratitude will be obvious to the world.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

Storytelling the alphabet A-E

crossposted from massmouth

It's a pleasure to come back and write the occasional guest post for massmouth. Thank you for this opportunity.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm Laura Packer. I'm a storyteller, writer and consultant. I just moved to Kansas City from Boston and am continuing my storytelling adventures in the Midwest. I am writing an A-Z of storytelling over on my storytelling blog. With massmouth's permission I'm going to post summaries and links to the longer posts every five letters or so. I hope you find this useful and entertaining.

A is for about.
What is your story about? I'm not talking about the obvious summary (a little girl goes for a walk to her grandmother's house, disobeys her mother, talks to a wolf and gets into trouble) but the deeper meaning. The meaning of the same story can change from teller to teller, listener to listener and even telling to telling. Take some time to get to know what the story is really about for you. Knowing this will help you tell it more effectively and will let you enjoy it more. Really, you don't want to be telling a funny story about your childhood neighbors and suddenly discover it's about how sad you were when you moved from your old neighborhood. You can read more about storytelling about here.

B is for beginnings. 
The beginning of your story is not when you start speaking. It's when you walk onto the stage and look at your audience. It's in your body, your movement, your eyes and then your voice. The beginning of your story is the doorway you open to invite your audience into a new world. Do so with confidence and they will be eager to go along with you. You can read more about storytelling beginnings here. 

C is for character. 
Your characters are your storytellers. You need to know them inside and out, far beyond the reaches of your current narrative. When you deeply understand your characters - heroes and villains - you can portray them, give them voice, with greater authenticity. When you love them - heroes and villains - your audience will, too. It doesn't matter if they are real or fictional, you need to know and love them as their voice in the world. You can read more about characters here.

D is for death. 
Death is part of life and so, it might be part of a story you tell. As the teller, you have an obligation to guarantee the audience's safety if you're taking them someplace dark. They need to know they can trust you if you're going to ask them to think about death. Storytelling is a great way to work out our own feelings about death, since we can do so through metaphor and other safe methods. As the teller, you can help your listeners go to the land of the dead and come back safely. You can read more about telling stories about death here. 

E is for ethics and endings.
Two issues in one post. Because storytelling is such a powerful art, one that can move audiences to great emotion and action, we have a variety of ethic obligations to our audiences, our stories, our work, our colleagues and our events. Remember to ask yourself, am I honoring the story? the audience? myself? my colleagues? Do I build the art up by telling this?
The ending of the story will linger with your audience long after you've left the room. A good ending can make a mediocre story soar while a poor one can drown the best told tale. Some hints and tips for crafting effective endings.
You can read more about ethics and endings here. 

Coming up? Fun, healing, images, justice and k... what to do for k...

(c) 2013 Laura S. Packer  (c)2013 Laura S. Packer

F is for...fun

Today's post was suggested by my friend, Mike Lockett.

Thus far we have:
A is for about
B is for beginnings
C is for character
D is for death
E is for ethics and endings.

It seemed like time for a little fun.

If you're not having fun storytelling then you need to take a good, long look at what you're doing. Storytelling is one of the most playful things you can do, regardless of the age of your audience or (often) the content of your story.

Think about it.

Storytelling requires us to be agile, to think on our feet, to interact easily with those around us. We're the center of the world for a few minutes when we tell a story well. We have a chance to get adults to play like children and to treat children like the adults we hope they will become.

Each performance gives us a chance to play with our audience. We can do so overtly, by asking them to sing or chant or respond to us, or we can do so covertly because there is no fourth wall - you can always ask someone with the giggles what's so funny. You may very well be delighted with their answer.

Each time I tell stories, even if they are difficult ones, I am filled with wonder that I have the opportunity to connect with my audience. It is a humble kind of awe. And I know each time I'm on stage that I am exactly where I should be, that my course is clear, that my actions have integrity and authenticity. It may not be the same kind of fun as riding a roller coaster, but it's certainly as thrilling.

Every time we tell stories to a live, listening audience we are connecting with our most ancient traditions. We are reaching back across space and time to our primal selves and saying Yes, we are still here. These things still matter. We are still on this journey together.

What's more, we can use storytelling to make people laugh, to get them to sing or dance. We become bigger than we are in the everyday when we tell and listen to stories, when we collectively reimagine the world.

How can that not be fun?

When we approach our craft with a spirit of joy and abundance we are creating a world where stories change lives. Where children squeal with glee. Where adults gasp in awe. Where we all get to live happily ever after, even if it's just for a moment or two.

That seems like the best kind of fun on the world to me. I'd love to hear about some of your fun moments, too.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

E is for... ethics and endings

Our story thus far...
A is for About
B is for Beginnings
C is for Character
D is for Death

Today is a twofer.  E is such a rich letter, the most common in the English language, that I wanted to give you a little extra.

First, let me point you to several posts I've already written about storytelling and ethics. As storytellers, we have a strong ethical obligation to our audiences, our material and ourselves. Because storytelling is such a powerful and immediate art form we must be clear about the boundaries between truth and fiction, understand the ownership of the works we tell, charge what we are worth and so on. It's easy to slip in snake oil with storytelling, so we need to be mindful.

Since I've already written about this elsewhere I'll send you to the posts.

Boundaries between truth and fiction, the importance of disclosure.
Ethical obligations of the teller to the audience (right teller, homework), the story (professionalism) and other tellers and organizers (pricing, marketing, easy to work with).
Ethical obligations of the organizer (care and feeding of tellers, promotion, advocacy).

Please take a look at these posts. These are important issues and not to be passed over lightly.

Okay, onto Endings.

Endings matter. A poorly executed ending can ruin an otherwise beautifully told story. The ending doesn't have to be a clear resolution nor is every ending is happily ever after, but it does need to leave the audience with a sense of completion or at least satisfaction and curiosity.

Some stories don't have well defined endings, because not everything in life comes to an easy resolution, but you can acknowledge that. Because storytelling can easily violate the fourth wall, the teller can directly address the audience.

• Jack and the princess stood there, looking at each other. I don't really know how this story ends, but I do know this. The giant was dead. The princess was free. Jack discovered himself to be a rich man, and that, of course, is another story.
• We are still growing and changing. I don't know what the future will bring, but I do know we'll face it together.
• And I am still here.

The crucial elements for effective endings are:

• You like the ending. It gives you a sense of completion and you feel as though the story is at a natural resting place.
• The audience is left with a sense of completion. They may have questions, they may be uncomfortable, but they leave the story experience knowing this was a stopping point.
• The audience is not left worried about you. If you're telling a personal story they need to be able to walk out of the experience believing you will be okay. It's cruel to do otherwise. It also turns the storytelling experience from art and performance to therapy.
• The ending is somehow related to the rest of the piece. An ending that is completely disconnected may be interesting art, but it doesn't serve the audience's narrative expectation.

You may want to give your listeners a cue that you're done. Bow. Pause and smile. Say thank you. This is especially useful when you aren't using a formulaic ending like "happily ever after."

A good ending, one with emotional and narrative punch, can elevate an otherwise adequate story. Your audience may remember your ending long after the other memories begin to fade; don't neglect it. Give it the time and attention it deserves, both you and your audiences will be happier and more satisfied for it.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

D is for... death

Alphabetical storytelling blogging is rolling right along. Please let me know what you think and let your friends know, too.

Our journey thus far:
A is for about
B is for beginnings
C is for character

And today, D is for death. This is not an exploration of the morbid or maudlin, but a look at how storytellers handle death in their stories.

Death is part of life, it's one of our very few certainties. It's also something few of us speak about easily, since it's emotionally fraught. As storytellers, we have a precious opportunity to help our audiences think about one of the more difficult things we experience, loss, in a safe environment, through the powerful medium of story.

Traditional material is rich with stories about death. King Arthur. Isis and Osiris. Gelert. Red Riding Hood (read older versions). The Three Little Pigs. Pandora's Box. On and on. These stories have helped us understand why we must die and some of the actions that can lead to our deaths. They show us the culturally defined difference between a good death and a bad death, never letting us forget that we must eventually die, as will the people we love.

Modern life is full of stories about death, too. Open any news site, read any newspaper, look at Facebook any day and you'll find a story about someone who died, how they lived their life and how they want to be remembered.


Telling these stories helps our audiences remember that death is part of human experience and that there are tools we can use to grieve, heal and accept it. They can also help us with our own struggles with death.

For example, when I was 26 I had cancer. I faced the very real possibility of my own death and had to help those around me find a way to process the idea of my loss. I found solace and comfort in the story of Gilgamesh, the ancient Sumerian myth in which Gilgamesh the king tries and fails to bring his best friend back from the dead. Eventually, I turned this most ancient of stories into a performance, bracketing the myth with a personal context. Telling it helped me heal and overcome the fear of my own death. It also helped those around me remember that we all die. I didn't tell it publicly until I was sure I could do so in a way that was safe for me and the audience.

As storytellers, we need to be sure that we can get out of the audience's way so they can do their own work as they listen. If we become too emotional, beyond the appropriate boundaries of the performance, it will jolt the audience from their own imagination and instead focus their attention on us and our needs. If we choose to tell a story about death,  we need to be sure we are doing so in service to the story, the audience and the world, in addition to whatever personal drive we may have to tell it.

We need these stories because they move us to feel and then to act. They guide us through our own grief, reminding us that we are not alone. They show us paths to live the kinds of lives that will be remembered and sometimes, are maps to the kind of death that matters. They are road maps not to death, but to life.
(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

C is for... character

By now you know I'm blogging the storytelling alphabet.
A is for about.
B is for beginnings.
So now we're up to C. C is for character.

Performing storytellers have some interesting advantages and challenges when presenting characters. There are an endless number of character tips I could give you, but I'm going to limit myself to a few that I use every day, in every practice, in every writing session, in every performance.

Like writers, we need to know our characters inside and out, far beyond what we present to our audience. What motivates them? What do they care about? What are their flaws, virtues, hidden vices and secret dreams? Why are they doing what they're doing? You can find many online resources for character questions. This is a good one.

If we know the answers to these questions and more, then we have more flexibility in how we portray our characters. It doesn't really matter if your character is fiction, traditional or real, the better you know them, the more believable they will be. Your portrayal will have depth. Even if you are telling a true story, it helps if you imagine some of these answers. Just make them consistent with what you know about the characters in your story. What might President Lincoln have enjoyed for breakfast (did he eat that the morning before going to Ford's Theater)? Did Eleanor Roosevelt have allergies (this might be relevant if your story is set in the spring of 1944)? Even if you can't ask her, decide what made your great-grandmother laugh. Everyone, whether living or dead, real or fictional, is composed of the details of their lives. Maybe Coyote's fur itches. Don't tell us, but you certainly can show us.

Make sure you do your research. If your character is a fireman, spend some time learning about the trade. What's more, as a performing storyteller, learn something about how firemen hold themselves, how they move, the look in their eyes when they talk about a particularly tough spot. Writers need to do all of this research; as storytellers we can use our bodies and voices to convey additional detail to our audiences. That detail should be authentic, so do your homework.

When you portray a character before an audience, be consistent. If you develop a particular voice or physical characteristic, do it each and every time we meet that character. The audience will come to depend on those cues to know who they are seeing and listening to. If you can't be consistent, then don't do it.

Lastly, fall in love with your characters, even the villains. If you love them, you will know them better, portray them with more authenticity and enjoy spending time with them. Your love for the character gives your audience permission to feel for them too, whether love or disgust. Your passion will be expressed in your words and gestures, your characters will come to life.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

B is for... beginnings

Yesterday I embarked on a month of alphabetical, storytelling blogging. You can read A here.

Today we'll talk about beginnings.

The start of your story is the doorway. It gives you a chance to set audience expectations, which you then can support or subvert as you see fit. But the beginning of your story isn't when you open your mouth, it's in the moments before, when you connect with your listeners and let them know by body language and attitude that they can trust you, they can relax and come along for the ride.

When you walk out on that stage (or lean forward in your living room, or start your PowerPoint presentation or...) you need do so with confidence that your story is worth telling. This is the real beginning of your narrative. Your audience will pay attention to how you're holding yourself, how you look at them and, once you begin, how relaxed you sound.

Assuming you are reasonably relaxed or confident or at least faking it well, they then can dive into the images and narrative you give them.

From there, the beginning of your story establishes setting, character, genre and other vital narrative components. This isn't an essay on narrative structure, but your beginning gives your listeners a clue as to what they're in for.

"Once upon a time..."

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

"Thank you for inviting me to speak with you about my work..."

"When I was little girl..."

"A dog, a cat and an elephant walk into a bar..."

"Everyone expects their child to be born perfect. Sometimes we need to change what perfect means..."

Each of these beginnings sets an expectation. You must quickly give your listeners enough information so they at least think they know where the story is going. This lets them relax and build their own relationship with the narrative, so crucial in any storytelling experience. You then can stick with expected direction or not, it's up to you.

But those first few moments of the story, the beginning? They are the vital time when you build relationship with the audience, start off in a direction they can relate to, and remind yourself that yes, you really do know what you're doing.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

Story quote: The road to hell

The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.
- Philip Roth


(What would happen if you went back to an old work today?)

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer

A is for... about

One of the things I love about the internet is the blogging community. You can find just about anything you want somewhere on some blog, proving that none of us are alone. What's more, you can find communities of like-minded bloggers who love to write about their passions and join them.

The blogging community is full of creative people who want bloggers to write, so they post challenges. The problem is I often find these challenges after they've begun, or once they're over. Thankfully, there's really nothing stopping me from taking up a challenge on my own time.

The A-to-Z blog challenge is one of those. It challenged bloggers to commit to covering the alphabet in the month of April. Those who were on the ball signed up, got some publicity and wrote away. I found out about it in mid-April, so while I'm missing out on the publicity, I'm picking up the gauntlet and starting here, in May with A. I'll be posting alphabetically every day except for Sundays. What's more, I'm going to limit myself to storytelling related topics. There's nothing like teaching or writing about something to learn about, so I'm hoping this month of alphabetical storytelling musings will be interesting and informative for all of us. At a minimum we'll see just how far I can bend the definition of "storytelling topics." Stay tuned.

A is for about

Whenever you charge forth to learn and tell a new story, one of the crucial questions you must ask yourself is What is this story about? I'm not talking about the simple plot. Yes, Red Riding Hood is about a girl walking through the woods, disobeying her mother and the consequences thereof. But what is the deeper meaning? What does it mean culturally? Personally?

When you ask these questions the meaning changes. Its about changes. Is it about the perilous road to adulthood? Asking for help? Stranger danger? What does it mean to you?

Spending some time with these questions will deepen your understanding of the story and therefore deepen your telling. You don't have to explicitly tell the audience what it means, but your understanding will effect the way you tell, what you emphasis and how you relate to your listeners.

This applies to personal and organizational stories as well as traditional. We must ask ourselves what the about is so we understand what we are saying and can craft a thoughtful narrative.

It's worth revisiting the about for any story in your repertoire on a regular basis. It may change. In fact, I would hope it does change, as you grow and learn more about yourself and the world.

Storytelling is a living art and, as such, we must not be afraid of the deeper work, the questions, asking just what is it all about anyway.

(c)2013 Laura S. Packer