I'm telling

What happens when a storyteller runs out of stories? Really? I mean, much like clown fish and comedians, who are expected to be funny simply because of what they are, storytellers are expected to tell good stories. And not just once or twice every so often, but as a method of delivery for almost every interaction.

But is it even possible, to run out of stories, if indeed you are a storyteller? I don’t quite know if it is. Once again, making the comparison to comedians, they are what they are because of their ability to observe humor. Comedians don’t always use shtick or exaggeration to get a laugh. Often times, the reason they are funny is because they have an innate sense of what occurs around them that is funny, when no one else may pick up on it. What they are good at, is simply pointing out what made them chuckle, and bringing it to the surface for everyone else to enjoy.

It isn’t that they are always in funny situations, or full of funny material, its more so the fact that whatever they do, wherever they go, they can see the humor in it somehow. That is what makes them a comedian. I don’t think any comedian woke up one day and thought, “Hmmm. I think I will be a comedian from now on. I better start finding things that are funny.” Much like a storyteller doesn’t wake up and say, “I’d like to tell some stories. Maybe I should go find some.” It is the storyteller’s ability to see the stories in everyday happenings which makes them a storyteller. And it is a vocalist’s ability to sing that makes her a vocalist, and so on and so forth.

Yes. It's true that some people will work their whole lives trying to be something they are not. Taking voice lessons when they really don’t have a voice, or going to med school when they don’t have a steady hand. It was some time ago that if you were strong and burly you were a laborer. You lifted hay bails, or pounded steel. If you were organized perhaps you were a clerk, or if you were naturally caring you might be a nurse. The point being that you were defined by what you were capable of.

Although no one should cut themselves short with the challenges they may face pursuing their hopes and dreams, there should be some attention paid in respect to what they are good at when it comes to deciding their own fate. Ha. Deciding ones fate… what a silly term. Wouldn’t fate imply it was predetermined? But we use this phrase all the time. And it is a phrase that rings true when you come back to the issue of a storyteller telling stories.

To answer my very first question: a true storyteller never runs out of stories. If truly from the heart and soul one is a storyteller, then everything they see and do has a story to be told. Is it necessity to tell them all? No. Are they all exciting? No. But at the end of the day, what makes the story is the way in which, if ever, it is told.

A dear friend of mine often reminds me it is not our thoughts which define us, but our actions. When witness to a miraculous event, if you think, “Gee. That would make a great story,” but never tell it or simply can’t find the words, then at that moment, you are not a storyteller. But if you can find a story in each day, from how the mud got on your shoes to one crisp Saturday morning in the fall when you spotted a heron flying low over head... and you can tell it; whether short and sweet or long and romanticized, then that is when you are what you intend to be. (Assuming you want to be a storyteller) Being one doesn’t mean having an endless supply of stories to tell at all. It’s deciding your fate, and telling the stories that you see happening right before you day in and day out. And making sure that when you do, whoever’s an ear for them to fall upon will remember and enjoy what you had to say. And when you’ve finally found the perfect words and method of delivery: paper, canvas, voice or motions, and get it all out, and are finished, you have to say, “The end.”

by Bryande Murray