How to Tell a Story: The Essential Guide to Memorable Storytelling from The Moth

by Meg Bowles

I was there because I believe in the supreme power of storytelling. It’s been the one through line in all my work. It’s really the only superpower we humans have. Think about it. The cheetah is faster, the elephant stronger, the eagle can soar much higher than any Olympic pole vaulter. Storytelling is the best thing about being human. And I believe it can change the world. That’s right. Stories can and do change the world.

Our stories tell us who we are, who we were, and who we hope to be. They’re how we form our very identity. The stories we carry with us contain our lineage, hopes, dreams, and pain. They tell, too, of our anxieties about ourselves, the world, and our place in it. Stories are how we keep our collective history alive.

This book is an invitation for you to take yourself seriously as a storyteller—to discover your stories, center what’s most important about them, initiate yourself in the fire of live performance, and use your truths to break down false narratives, whether that’s on stage or over dinner with a friend.

What are moments from your life, big or small, that stick with you? What are the stories you can’t wait to tell a new friend, or the stories your oldest friend or partner always asks you to repeat? What are The Greatest Hits of You?

What is this story ultimately about for you? Why is this story important for you to tell? How would you describe yourself at the beginning of the story, and who had you become by the end?

These questions aren’t always easy to answer right away. The process helps you find the answers. By asking these questions, we are able to help you find the direction and heart of the story and get a general sense of how you changed, which helps to define the overall arc. Once we get a good focus on the story, we start to look for the best way to tell it. We identify scenes and details that can bring the story to life. We ask you, “If this were a movie, what scenes would keep us glued to our seats?” Retrace every step, describe it in Technicolor. We often ask that you “blow it up big” and look at every detail you could play with, and then pick the very best and shiniest.

Identifying the story you want to tell can be challenging. Expect some trial and error. Many are convinced they simply don’t have a story, some might not think their story is important enough to be told—but storytelling is for everyone. Your memory is a pantry full of ingredients. You might not have a recipe in mind yet, but dinner will be served. The first step is to take yourself seriously as a storyteller. No matter which direction your life and your choices have taken you: If you have lived and breathed, you have a story.

A rule of thumb is to not let the trauma or the struggle be the story, but rather to make it the context of the story. Stories always need to go beyond “a bad thing happened.” (And now, a rhyming Moth proverb: All ouch and no yay? Hard to make the listener stay.)

Think back to that proverbial fork in the road, the path least traveled. You made a decision to act or not—where did that decision take you?

What it really comes down to is vulnerability. There is something comforting when people are willing to share the not-so-pretty sides of themselves. It’s as if they give the listener permission to relax. This is not a competition or an exercise to impress—I’m not perfect, so it’s okay if you’re not perfect too.

Your stakes resonate deeply within you, and part of your job as a storyteller is to make us understand your why.

Stakes are what give a story urgency and energy. They create tension. They fill the listener with excitement or dread, and they give them a reason to go on this ride with you. Clear stakes establish why you care, which tells us why we should care.

Clear stakes compel the audience to champion you, root for you, and cheer you on. When working on a story, it is essential to keep asking yourself: What are the stakes? Identify the moments where you felt you had something to gain or lose.

Stakes help the story become more than just a list of things that happened or a series of musings. They show the listener why the story is important for you to tell, and will ultimately support the overall arc of your story.

When you build out the stakes of your story, how can you set them up so the audience knows what’s important to you? Can you reveal something deeper about yourself through your motivation? A story that lacks stakes has no tension, and will fall flat. Find the moment—the unique and personal detail—that helps them feel what is at stake in the same way it felt for you. You want them to be on your side, cheering you on!

If you don’t want or need anything, it’s not a story. A good story builds. By the end, things have intrinsically changed. Something about it has a lasting effect. You can’t go back. You can’t unsee it. You can’t un-be it. You are a different person because of the events that unfolded.

An arc, put simply, is: Who were you at the beginning of the story, and who were you at the end? How do you live your life differently as a result of the events in the story, and why is that consequence meaningful to you?

One of the most rewarding things about crafting a story is recognizing the significance of an experience that has marked you. There’s a difference between the events of the story (the plot) and what the story is really about. As storytellers, we see how those pivotal moments continue to influence and alter us.

Defining what the story is really about early on helps you choose the details and moments to best support the story as you build it. We’ll revisit your one sentence later during the editing process, when it will help you choose between details that support your story and those that distract from it. For now, consider it your blueprint and refer back to it frequently.

In the movie of your life, what are some scenes that you’ll never forget? Tell us about your first kiss. Your first love? Your first heartbreak? What is the greatest challenge that you’ve overcome? When have you felt certainty in your relationships, a choice you’ve made, or your work? Tell me about a moment of regret. What were your favorite moments from growing up? Do you remember when ____? What is something that you want to be remembered for? Tell me about a risk you wish you’d taken. What was it like the first time you set foot in the city you now call home? Tell us about a time you were proud of yourself. Tell me about the one who got away. What was it like when we first met? What happened? Tell us about the first time you hosted a family meal. Tell me about your favorite holiday memory. When has someone saved you with a great piece of advice? When did you share something you kept secret for a long time? How do you want your story to end? What is an object you hold dear? How did you come to have it? What was a typical day like when you were three, thirteen, thirty-three, ninety-three…?

Telling our stories and listening to the stories of other people reminds us that we’re in this together. We are all making our way through a world that is sometimes joyful, oftentimes embarrassing, and never, ever perfect.

By crafting your story and examining the threads of your life through your own lens, with your full heart, you will connect more deeply to the moments and events that make you who you are today. The process will help you see how the joys, heartaches, and struggles fit into the larger arc of your life. Most of all, telling your story allows you to own it. It gives you permission to abandon the narratives others may have ascribed to you, cast off the harmful ones you may be telling yourself, and define your own. This is your story; only you can tell it.