Being interesting is a trap
In defense of the tiny story
Someone asked me recently, what do you profoundly give a shit about, in your work? And here’s what I’m on the soapbox about these days: I don’t want my clients and students and colleagues to think they have to be INTERESTING.
I know that’s kind of out there for a story editor and story coach to say, since part of what I do all the time with clients and students is help them find the interesting angle, the interesting details, etc. etc.
But we’ve been raised in an attention economy. Meaning (among other things) we tend to think that we have to earn attention, usually with a shocking, or tragic, or otherwise remarkable disclosure. And that just feels deeply unhuman to me.
Your traumatic story is not the rent you pay to get connection with the people listening to or reading your work.
If you need to share something momentous, and that feels good, that’s great. But I’ve worked with so many students and clients who thought they were “supposed to” share their Big Story (that event or identity that seems to define them, whether they want it to or not). And they were shocked to discover that telling a different, less weighted story— about a haircut, or a ballet class, or a check-engine-light— felt amazing to tell and had their listeners riveted, laughing and crying along with them.
Why does this work? Well, I think maybe we get so stuck in our own brains that the chance to hear about someone else’s everyday life feels like relief. It reminds us that other people aren’t just bit players in our drama. They have dramas of their own, and we can share them, and that makes us all feel a little more connected.
And I give a shit about storytelling as connection.
Not just performance or persuasion or demonstration of talent. So I guess I want you to know that of course, you should tell your Big Story if you want to, but your tiny story actually does ALSO matter, and not just because you can make a lovely little jewel out of it.
You are worth listening to, even if you don’t think you’re interesting.
It’s pretty badass, and human, and frankly anti-capitalist to share your experiences honestly, without worrying too hard about how attention-worthy they are. And to listen to others without using that kind of scale.
Because attention is a gift. It’s saying: yes. We both exist right now. Stuff happens to us, and it will keep happening to us, and I will listen to you talk about it.
Respectfully and enthusiastically yours,
Micaela
I’m an award-winning storyteller and educator, and I offer coaching, workshops & keynotes about storytelling and voice. Want to work with me? Find out how at micaelablei.com!
Amen! I’m doing a small storytelling series with people and everybody says some version of, “well, I’m not very interesting.” I tell them of course they are interesting or else I wouldn’t be asking. It’s amazing how people will open up though when you give them a little space and encouragement to share. Your whole post here is spot on. Thank you.
Thank you for this reminder to think more deeply about tiny stories— and I LOVE the snapshot you included! One of my favorite things to do at flea markets and the like is to go through stacks of old snapshots and postcards. How sweet to see the single lines of script that someone wrote to their loved one about a trip or like you shared here, the pride someone has in the simple act of baking cookies! 💚