As I’ve shared my storytelling journey with other people (I’ll call them “OP”), I’ve noticed the same questions come up over and over. Here’s how those conversations usually go:
OP: Storytelling? Why are you taking a class for storytelling?!
Me: Because stories are at the root of everything. They shape ideas, influence behavior, and connect us to each other.
OP: But don’t you already know how to tell stories?
Me: Let me ask you this—have you ever listened to a story that bored or confused you, and another that completely pulled you in? The difference often comes down to the skill of the storyteller. In these classes, I’ve learned how to analyze stories, add meaningful elements, remove distractions, and more clearly identify what makes a story work.
OP: So what does make a good story?
Me: I usually begin by setting the scene—describing a situation and engaging the senses. Then I introduce a challenge or problem. Finally, I show how it’s resolved and how I (or the person in the story) changed because of it. I consider five key elements when constructing a story: People, Place, Problem, Progress, and Point.
OP: Do you get a good grade when you tell your story well?
Me: I get a good grade for telling a complete story—one with a clear beginning, middle, and end. That’s the focus.
OP: Are you critiqued on how well you told it?
Me: Not in the traditional sense.
OP: Then how do you improve?
Me: One of the first things I learned was the Affirmative Coaching Model. No one gives unsolicited critique. Instead, something remarkable happens: people listen for what works. They reflect back the strengths they hear and build up the storyteller with specific, thoughtful observations.
Our teacher, Liz Warren, models this beautifully. Even after hearing thousands of stories, she offers feedback that is honest, kind, and incredibly precise.
OP: But what if you want critique?
Me: Then you can ask for it. But the culture is already set—it’s constructive, respectful, and never “gotcha.” Telling a story is vulnerable. You’re standing in front of people, without notes, sharing something personal. Kind encouragement leads to improvement.
OP: Wait—you don’t use notes? I couldn’t memorize ten minutes of content.
Me: Me neither. I don’t memorize word-for-word. I might learn my opening and closing, but in between I rely on structure. Sometimes I sketch a storyboard to visualize the flow. Other times I think of the story as stepping stones that guide me forward. It helps to embody the story and remember I already know it! And if I forget a detail, I can always weave it in later. Somehow it works.
OP: It sounds like you’ve learned a lot. What’s the payoff for you?
Me: I’ve been enriched by hearing other people’s stories and by sharing meaningful parts of my own. There’s a kind of connection that happens when people really listen to each other. And in telling my stories, I’ve found clarity—about events in my life, and about myself.
It turns out storytelling isn’t just something we do. It’s something that shapes how we understand the world—and each other.
Anne recently retired from over 30 years in real estate sales in the Valley. She continues to swap stories as she feeds her husband, children and 16 grandchildren. Cooking, calligraphy, and writing remain lifelong favorite activities.
@allthings.azhome @annewhitakerlaw azanne@gmail.co
Leave a Reply