Roxie is an 8-pound, peaceable dog. She’d be happy to be petted every minute of the day. When she’s not being petted, she’s happy to take a nap.
But when Pam and I moved 1000 miles last fall from Massachusetts to Georgia, Roxie’s life was disrupted. Our Georgia house was renovated by a constant stream of workers using power tools.
Roxie was unhappy. She barked and barked at everyone—including our friends who were helping us with the renovations.
Back in Massachusetts, I had long ago trained Roxie to stop barking at the command, “Hush.”
But now, if I said, “Hush,” she’d just bark louder, as though I was joining in the barking, too.
Something Has to Change!
After many unhappy weeks of this, I watched a Youtube video about a dog trainer who had trained someone else’s German Shepard not to bark at guests.*
The dog's barking had gotten so severe that the dog's owner, a small, older woman who didn’t appear to outweigh the dog, was afraid to let anyone in the house, lest the dog attack the visitor.
The Dog’s Job
In the video, the trainer said that it’s the dog’s job to bark when there is an unknown presence. As the dog owner, you don’t want the dog to stop being a “stranger alarm."
But you can let the dog know that you see what the dog sees—and that you’re ready to take charge of the situation.
So I changed my behavior, in the hope it would change Roxie’s: As soon as Roxie barked at someone approaching the house, I would walk toward the door and say to Roxie in a confident tone, “I got this!”
In short, I wanted Roxie to know I was aware of the potential intrusion, but also in charge, so she could relax.
Whenever I did this, she almost immediately stopped barking!
Storytelling?
You might ask, “How does this apply to storytelling?”
As it turns out, our listeners want to know that we, as tellers, “have got this.”
We need to convince our listeners that our story is coherent in some way, that they will feel rewarded in the end for their listening.
Story Coherence
"Story coherence" can mean many things, such as:
Clarity of action
Clarity and consistency of characterization
Coherence of theme, place, time sequence, etc.
In the end, though, story coherence means helping the listener understand that you as the teller “have this,” that the listeners can trust you, the teller, to craft an experience for the listener that engages the listener, makes sense, and doesn’t leave the listener wondering, “Why did I listen to this?”
And the “reward” at the end can be implicit, explicit, or surprising—as long as it feels like the effects were intentional!
How Do We Make a Story Coherent?
There is no single or simple answer to this question, but a key part of the answer is to make sure that each part of the story follows through on the “promise" we appeared to make at the beginning: a promise that gets developed from one scene to another.
If we begin with an episode in which, say, someone is afraid, but then we appear to abandon the danger or the feeling of fear, our listeners may stop trusting that “we have this.”
In other words, each part of a story should demonstrate that we are confidently taking our listener further and further on the journey that we
“Announced” when we first gained their attention and
Have continued in some way throughout the story.
Is It Possible to Grow Such a Story Organically?
Yes. In fact, it’s both preferable and gives better results!
One way to be sure that all this happens is to use a series of “processes” during the development of the story. These are the organic processes that nonetheless lead to story coherence. They guide you interactively rather than tell you “what to include and when.”
In short, these are the story-growing processes that allow you to make sure your story both engages your listeners and “pays off” in the end. For me, these are the processes that help you know for yourself that you “have this”—and also assures your listeners, unconsciously, that you do, indeed “have this.”
If Roxie understood human language well enough to enjoy stories, I’m sure she’d agree!