Hi everyone!
Today’s part three of my four-part series mythbusting common storytelling misconceptions.
In part one, we debunked the myth that you should always keep things light. In part two, we talked about why “appeal to the everyman” is never good advice.
Today, we’ll take on another misconception: that to be a good storyteller, you need to go out of your way to make sure the audience gets it.
But before that, two announcements.
First, special thanks to Eric Kome at Carpool Creative for my updated banner with a new font and better kerning than my DIY Canva skills could pull off. :) Eric is awesome, and I highly suggest checking out his Iowa City–based agency for videos, motion graphics, and more.
Second, if you’re interested in more great storytelling content, definitely check out my conversation with Matt Arnold on his podcast The Iowa Idea. We talked about all things storytelling and creativity, as well as how you can use writing to help clarify your own goals and thinking.
Thanks to Matt for the invite––it was a really fun chat!
Now…onto why “make sure they get it”––though well-intentioned––is not great storytelling advice.
I read a lot of early-stage novel manuscripts, first-draft web copy, and essays, reviews, and other pieces the writer is just starting to think through on the page. And no matter the genre or category, overexplaining is one of the biggest issues I see.
This is totally understandable. And super normal! In my unscientific statistics, I’d say 85%–90% of people overwrite in their first drafts. This is because, in a first draft, a writer is often still trying to make sense of their own ideas. So a lot of that extra text is simply the author explaining their thinking to themselves as they go.
Even if you’re one of the lucky writers who already has their ideas fairly clear, when you’re in the drafting weeds, it can be hard to keep track of which points you’ve already made and how well you’ve expressed them. This means you end up writing extra sentences, paragraphs, or even entire sections that don’t need to be there, but feel like they do.
Picture wandering through a dark forest with just a flickering flashlight. You’re nervously marking the trail as you go. Who wouldn’t leave some extra signage, just in case they can’t find their way back?
There’s a problem, though. By the light of day, that extra signage is going to look a little silly. You want the path itself do the work. Not the arrows you’ve posted on all those poor trees.
Overexplaining is one of those things that doesn’t sound that bad in theory. But it can actually ruin an otherwise great story. When a writer’s giving me too much, it makes me think they don’t trust their ability to tell this story in the first place...or they don’t trust I’m smart enough to get it.
Neither feels great.
So, how to convey that you’re the badass, masterful storyteller you know you can be? And that you respect your reader and their ability to understand?
Two words, intimately related: subtext. And revision.
Subtext is what’s between the lines of your story. The words on the page aren’t the meaning itself––they’re the tools the audience will use to make their own meaning.
For a really straightforward example, let’s go back to our baker.
“Ever since I baked sourdough loaves with my grandma when I was little, I always wanted to open a bakery. But my parents wanted me to study medicine, so I settled for baking bread during my study sessions. The smell when I put it in the oven always made me happy, but it never felt like enough. I eventually dropped out, and felt lost and alone. I got a job at a bakery and remembered how happy baking made me. After many years of hard work, I’ve finally opened my own storefront. And my grandma still comes to help me at the counter sometimes.”
When the baker ends their story with the comment about their grandma helping at the counter, they don’t spell out “and this is really meaningful, because as you remember I baked with my grandma when I was little, too, so things are coming full circle.” They trust the audience to make that connection. To get it.
And in “getting it” without overtly being told, the audience becomes part of what Kindra Hall calls “the co-creative process” that takes place between the storyteller and their reader or listener. Basically: this narrative white space allows the audience to step in and feel like we’re part of the story.
Any writer can tell you this is easier said than done, though. Which is where revision comes in.
In his famous craft book On Writing, Stephen King counsels writers to draft with the door closed and edit with the door open. When you’re getting the words on the page, according to King, it’s fine to focus entirely on what you want to express. It’s in revision that you’ll approach the same text with a focus on what the reader will take away from it. The latter step includes thinking strategically about what actually needs to be on the page and where to leave figurative white space your reader will fill with their own imagination.
When you read a story that feels masterful, it’s because the writer has done this well. There’s something alluring about getting just enough. As in visual design, in written or oral storytelling, what’s not there communicates just as much as what’s there. As [deeply problematic figure] Coco Chanel said, “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off.” There’s a certain elegance in knowing what to leave out. And, where storytelling is concerned, it’s only in thinking like the audience that you can look in the mirror and know exactly which “one thing” has to go.
A final note: the urge to overexplain doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad writer. One of the reasons I’m so passionate about communication is that I believe most people have a deep-seated desire to be understood. A lot of times, when I’m working on a text with a client, or offering feedback to another writer, it becomes clear these extra sentences and unnecessary explanations come from that angsty teen living in all of us who’s still swiping their bangs to the side and yelling nobody understaaaaaands!!
That angsty inner teen has pretty empathetic intentions, if you really think about it. They want people to get what they’re saying. That’s a good thing! Storytelling is first and foremost a form of communication, after all.
So let that inner teenager have their say. But don’t let them control your whole process. Because people do understand. More than you think.
And when you leave that narrative white space for them to step into, they’ll feel like they’re a part of your story, too.
Happy storytelling,
Erin
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Erin Becker (she/her)
Writer | Communications Consultant | Storytelling Expert
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