When I was a child, I was a big reader. I always had a book in my hand, even the heavy (at least to a tyke) tome of The Wizard of Oz. I loved that book so much, I took it everywhere with me-even the bathtub and toilet. Maybe, I hoped, I really do have courage, even though I feel so afraid. Just like the lion.

My favorite birthday present was a box of labels to paste inside my books,  claiming them as mine. The charming worm in the center of the label announced, “As for me, give me a book.”

Because I read well in the first grade, I got to sit in the front row. The front row was okay, but the real important thing about the front row was that I could have eye contact and a feeling of closeness with my angel teacher, Mrs. Bowles. I loved her.

What was I getting out of my reading? Many things. At home, it was an escape from scolding comments or glaring eyes. Give me the isolation of my room, a cat, a green apple and my book and I was in heaven. Safe. Calm.

But I was not only escaping hurts, I was also having vicarious learning. As a teen who had to be in bed by nine at night, I had many vicarious romances through books. Romances of the fun kind, the lovey-dovey kind and the scary kind. I was warned by The Scarlet Letter to stay away from anything I would feel guilty about. I can still picture Hester Prynne in the woods and still feel so sad.

Now that I’m doing a deep study about the power of stories and writing stories myself, I want to take a clearer look at what makes them so powerful. (Stories are so effective at influencing people that the Harvard Business organization stresses the importance of stories for building businesses. There’s a quote at the end of this blog about that.)

WHAT MAKES STORIES SO POWERFUL?

For one thing, we LEARN by experiencing, not by following conceptual edicts.

Stories give us a sensory EXPERIENCE, rather than a CONCEPT.

CONCEPT V. EXPERIENCE

My first learning about the difference between CONCEPT and EXPERIENCE was decades ago when I was learning the skills of acting.

Way, way, way back then, the Sandy Meisner technique for training actors had become popular. Meisner developed his groundbreaking technique to guide actors in behaving instinctively and getting in touch with their emotions instead of getting trapped in their own thoughts or concepts.

For example, a line may read, “I hate you.” Some actors might try to think of a time they hated someone and try to apply that feeling to the line. That’s the Stanislavski Method.

Meisner technique would ask the actor to say the line laughing, or worried, or flirting—with whatever their emotional reaction was at the moment.

Here’s another example of the difference between a  CONCEPT and EXPERIENCE.

CONCEPT: “DON’T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS. CHECK OUT THE REALITY OF WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. “

Good advice, right? Maybe, but… How inspired do you feel to take this advice? Blah, blah, blah. More words. There’s no picture I see, no sounds, no feelings, tastes or smells.

My senses are not involved. I’m not involved. The statement is an intellectual CONCEPT.

Below is the same message told  as a story. As you read, notice your level of engagement with the story, compared with your engagement with the concept statement: “Don’t make assumptions. Check out the reality of what you are thinking.”

In his book, True Love: A Practice for Awakening the Heart, Zen Buddhist teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh, gives a powerful example of a cautionary tale. It’s a true story of a Vietnamese couple.

STORY AS EXPERIENCE

The newly wed husband had to go to war. Both husband and wife were very sad, especially since she was pregnant, and he would be gone for two long years.

When he returned to her, after  his two years of service, he was excited to see his son and wanted to hug him. When he reached for his son, the son pushed him away saying, “You’re not my Daddy. Some other man is my Daddy. He comes to us every night.”

The husband was so distressed as he imagined this other Daddy, he went to the taverns every night. He refused to speak to his wife, who didn’t know what their son had said. His wife felt so hurt and rejected that after a time, she went out to their backyard and threw herself into the river and drowned.

The day her body was found, the husband came home to care for his young son. That night he wanted to read a bedtime story to his son, and he lit a candle. When the husband’s shadow appeared on the wall, his son pointed to it saying, “Oh, look. There’s my Daddy.” The wife had been faithful and had only been trying to include her husband by telling her son that her own shadow was his father.

This cautionary story gives us advice about, “What should you do if you think (are assuming) that a partner is cheating.”

It’s a cautionary tale, a tale that warns us to be careful: if we do certain actions, bad things will happen.  If we don’t share our worries and pains and see if our beliefs are true, we lose. Big time.

The same story message could be told in a prescriptive tale of the same story might be that the husband works up the courage to tell the wife what the boy had said. Then the wife could correct his misunderstanding.

Another prescriptive tale might be that the wife tells the husband that she feels hurt and rejected by his absence. Then he could tell her how hurt he was by what the boy said. Then they can get it worked out. So, the mature and useful behaviors are modeled for us and the message now becomes, “When we share our worries and pains and see if our beliefs are true, we gain.”

Here’s that bit from Harvard Business Publishing psychologist Lani Peterson says:

“Storytelling is essential. If you’re trying to engage, influence, teach, or inspire others, you should be telling or listening to a story, and encouraging others to tell a story with you. You’ll have plenty of science to back you up.”

I’d love to hear any of your stories!