Tell a story

Two weeks ago, I finished up describing the model I’m using — Ask, Listen, Affirm, Respond — with my concept of how to respond when you’re in a difficult conversation: reframing. But there are lots of other people who’ve used another technique to respond: storytelling. They’ve had major success with it, so I’m including it, even though this is not usually my area.

Humans are made to listen to story. We yearn for stories. We like stories so much that we create ones even when they aren’t really there. Conspiracy theories are a type of story, after all.

Stories are great at making a point without beating people over the head. We relate to stories. And stories can give us a reason to change our minds.

Stories work well when they humanize the people in them, when we can see how they are like us. They need to stress the commonalities with the listener.

The different stories that we have in our heads are one reason why we view reality differently. If you have a positive story that you tell yourself — either one that you experienced yourself, or even just heard about — your view will be much different than if the story you tell yourself is negative. And the stories you pay attention to are shaped by your worldview, by how you were raised and what your parents taught you about the world and life. If they thought the world was a dangerous place then you may have adopted that view also.    

In order to counter the stories in the other person’s head, you need to provide them with an alternative story, something to substitute. That’s because statistics don’t work on the same part of your brain.

Part of why stories work is because they contain emotion — at least the powerful ones do. But our tendency is to use the type of emotion that we prefer, not what the other person prefers. Understanding moral foundation theory can help you identify the type of emotional you typically respond to and to understand how theirs might differ. If you can pivot from your own view to their view, that makes it more likely for you to be successful in making your point.  For example, a story focused on how terrible a person’s life became when he wasn’t given an equal opportunity has a liberal slant to it. It won’t be very successful at helping a conservative see your point. But, if instead, you focus the story on how hopeless he started to feel when he didn’t get a reward after he worked really hard (the merit-based flavor of fairness), a conservative person may be more likely to respond. For more details on how to know what someone’s moral framework is, check out my book, “Persuade, Don’t Preach: Restoring Civility Across the Political Divide.”

If you’re going to tell a story, you need to know that stories have three parts to them: Acts I, II and III.

Act I is the setup. It’s the information you need to know to understand the story, to relate to the story. It provides just enough so you understand who the people are, what the situation is.  A common mistake is to make the setup too long. You need to provide just enough information so the next part will make sense.

Act II is the crisis. It’s this part that keeps us on the edge of our seats. There’s something wrong; there’s tension. It’s the tension that makes the story compelling. The listener wants to know what will happen, so they keep listening.

Act III is the resolution. It can be good or bad, but the tension needs to be resolved. We don’t like living in the tension. It makes us uneasy and anxious. You need to close the story out.

Storytelling has become a major trend, and there are a lot ways to learn the craft. One of my sources for how to tell a story in our conversations about difficult topics is Justin Lee, who writes about his own story in his book, “Talking Across the Divide,” and why it’s so powerful for his target audience.

His story has become the center of his work. Justin was raised as an evangelical Christian in the South. He studied the Bible diligently and was dedicated! When people at his church told him that being gay was a choice and a lifestyle, he believed it and parroted it back. That’s Act I.

Act II starts for Justin in his adolescence. He begins to realize that, unlike his friends, he’s not attracted to girls. All his peers start talking about the cute girls, and he could care less. He’s interested in the cute guys. But if what the people in his church told him is right, that being gay is a choice, shouldn’t he be able to change that? That’s tension.

Act III was Justin’s realization that he couldn’t just wish to be attracted to girls. That being gay was an integral part of him, a part he didn’t want because of what he’d learned as a child in church but, over time, came to accept that about himself. He came out to his parents when he was young, and his parents have come to accept him as he is. And now his sexual orientation has become an integral part of his life’s work as he works to help other gay Christians reconcile their sexual orientation with their faith and to help straight Christians accept homosexuality.  

His story has become a pivotal part of his message to evangelical Christians like the ones he grew up with.

Justin says that, if you don’t have a story of your own, you can use someone else’s. After all, people who care about an issue but aren’t directly affected by it can also be part of it. If you do use someone else’s story, you need to include yourself somehow, even if it’s only your reaction. If it broke your heart, say so. Or let the tone of your voice convey that, emotion doesn’t need words. To quote Justin: Your story is “the reason you care about the issue.” That caring is the core; it needs to have emotion. I recommend reading Justin’s book to learn more about his story and how he recommends that you use your story.

Because I’ve been learning about stories, in my presentation on moral foundations theory, I now include a story about what happened to my Aunt Dot and me before she died, why I never saw her again. I’ve included that in a previous newsletter. (Read it here if you haven’t seen it.) Here’s the story in three acts.

Act I is the idea that she was my childhood aunt, the one that was there my entire life, and she played a big role, taking lots of pictures and giving us gifts.

Act II is my visit to her after she couldn’t live alone any longer and had an immigrant caregiver. At that visit, she said to me that immigrants shouldn’t be allowed into this country. Then I called her rude and walked out and never spoke to her again.

Act III is my feelings about having walked out. I’m really sad about it.

But then I come back later in the presentation and talk about what I wish I’d done, how I could have approached things differently. I rewrite both Acts II and III. Because of what I now know, I’m able to come up with an alternative ending where I use moral reframing to talk to her in a way that maybe she could have heard. These techniques these can be combined to become more powerful!

If you’ve tried one of these techniques, please tell me your story. I love to hear them!