A. You give your performance as a gift, right? Let people have it without conditions.

B. Stories must entertain the right side of the brain. The best ones may also entertain the left-brain, but only a small portion of your audience will "get it" and it's a second-tier concern at best. Don't let the story-about-the-story get in the way of the tale itself.

C. Another way to look at it: the story-about-the-story may be fascinating, but it's a separate piece. If that separate piece stands on its own then tell it. If not, then don't.

• Those who want the left-brain analysis can approach you afterward. IMHO, a good teller should be able to have that discussion, too.
• You can limit the harm by building essential discussion into the piece, usually as back-story. This is very, very hard to do well. Be very, very careful.

D. On the other hand . . . when the story-about-the-story can stand on its own, you can create a nice "set" by stringing the story and the explanation together. For example, there is a wonderful legend about the Civil War origin of "Taps" (the U.S. military bugle call for "Lights Out" and for funerals), and the "true" story is almost as good. I'll often tell both because they highlight each other. I also tell a set of ghost stories that begins with the awful truth behind those "luxury" graves with a bell on top (the 19th century discovery that hundreds of people had been buried alive in England), and then continues with some "buried alive" legends and tales.

E. Don't "tell the moral" unless it's part of the catch-line of the tale. It drags people from enjoyment mode into analysis, it's insulting, it changes you from storyteller to lecturer, and it's usually too narrow in any case. Great stories have lots of morals, after all.

• Also, stories teach holistically rather than logically. Mix the two and you end up destroying both.
• Punchlines for "gotcha" stories and jokes could be considered an exception and are often framed as if they were morals. E.g., " . . . Which just goes to show that pigs may think they can fly but you don't want to be walking beneath them when they do." A preachy punchline might be one to avoid, however.

A. 95% of the stories that "aren't quite right" suffer from too many words. There's the occasional, rare exception where something needs to be added, but rare may be an understatement. And since 99.99% of the stories that torture an audience are way too long, I urge you to hoard your words with a miser's greed.

• The exception here is for people who are really, really good at reading their audience. Knowing when and how to "milk" a mood is a wonderful skill. If you have it, use it. If you don't, beware.

B. Substitute excess "he saids" with body position, voice, pacing.

• Note that this technique can also come in useful when you're trying to adapt a literary tale.

C. Do you need every scene? I once dropped an instant 15% off a tale I'd already recorded by realizing that I could refer to a particular scene without actually telling it.

• Most serious tellers end up learning much more about a story than will ever go into it. A deep back-story helps to make the story richer for everyone, and certainly more fun to tell. That's all to the good so long as you guard against "word-creep" as the thing tries to grow.

D. Beautiful words aren't lost, they're just waiting for a story-to-be where they'll be a better fit.

E. Watch your audience and compare your words to your peaks. That may help you to see what parts you can trim.

A. Situation. What is the base condition? Make it short and quick.

• A good spot for set-pieces.
• The situation can be established by implication, particularly if you fit a known motif. As soon as a teller says, "Once there was a princess who lived at the edge of an enchanted wood," we all know where we are and what the rules are going to be.

B. Problem. The problem can be anything and can change according to your personal interpretation of the story. Many stories pose several problems, but it's a good rule to pick one as the primary theme and to stick to it. Everything else is a branch on the trunk.

• Stories that quickly and clearly establish the Situation and Problem are well on the way to success.
• If you're really torn about what Problem to use as your theme, see if you can develop two different versions of the same tale.

C. Solution. The interplay between Problem and Solution is the bulk of your plot, and often takes place in stages or various attempts.

• This is going to sound obvious, but your Solution must solve the Problem (or expressly fail to solve the problem). Stories need to end, not just stop. You'd be amazed how many stories end up flopping because they lack this link.

D. Resolution. How have we changed from the opening situation? Often implied rather than told, and almost always very brief.

• A lot of times you can set another problem here, and then end with "But that's a tale for another night."
• This is not a reason to insert a moral! It's the place to say, " . . . And they lived happily ever after to the rest of their days."

A. Peaks and Valleys (a/k/a Ups and Downs). I've identified three different types of peaks and valleys you can control. Plot, Pacing, and Emotion. "Plot" peaks are key events, "Pacing" peaks are fast moving parts, and "Emotional" peaks refer to the poignant highs and lows. By "Valleys" I mean the contrasting moments; plot development, slower pacing, emotional lows. A "level" point would be where nothing much is happening.

• Sharper peaks and valleys make for better stories. I keep thinking there must be exceptions but I've yet to find them. People love roller coasters. A point in the story where you're developing plot, moving at an average pace and waiting for an emotional "hit" is a point where the story is failing to "move."
• The different kinds of peaks and valleys often move together but they don't have to.
• NOTE: Humor makes a great "reset" button. When people laugh the tension disappears, making for an instant valley.

B. Many stories can peak in different ways or places depending on interpretation. Pick one and stick to it. If the story evolves as you tell it, feel free to change.

• E.g., The "Three Little Pigs" can be an adventure story, a story about wise buying habits, a riddle tale, a story about families sticking together, or a story about maternal abandonment. There are probably other themes you could come up with as well. Pick your version and stick to it.

A. Fairy tale land, gothic ghost story, urban-legend land, the High Seas, Appalachia, etc.

B. European threes, Chinese fours (yin/yang, then yang/yin).

• People rarely know they're doing it, but they really expect these patterns. A fairy tale with four adventures can throw an audience badly off balance.

C. Someone acting out of character for the motif creates a "problem" for the story to solve. E.g., a grim, silent minstrel (Beowulf), or an overly boastful father (Rumplestiltskin).

D. Break the motif for quick humor. ("And the woodcutter said to the princess, 'How's it hanging, babe?'").

• This may be the essence of how to "fracture" a fairy tale.

E. Knowing the original context can help to clarify a story. E.g., Donald Davis has described Jack tales as "the ones that Grandma told to keep the kids working in the kitchen" as opposed to the archetype of "Grandpa by the fire at night." Charlemagne stories were medieval "light-fiction" and a lot closer to James Bond or Batman than any kind of serious Lit-rah-cha. Etc.

A. If you don't know your story well enough, you won't be able to react to the audience, you'll have to divert attention away from telling and into remembering, and you'll tend to be stiff and unnatural. It reinserts the invisible script between teller and listener.

• Besides, the more you tell it, the better you'll know it.
• You'll know it well enough when you can rip off the outline in a shorthand flash. This is a great tip for everyday life, too. If you can't reduce your point to its rawest fundamentals, you're like the expert who can only explain things in jargon. The best experts use jargon to explain details (and mostly to other experts); the outline they can put in plain language.

B. Steering wheels are a great audience when your S.O. has simply had ENOUGH. Pets work too, though they'll sometimes walk out on you. Some people like mirrors, but it never worked for me. Record yourself (what are you nervous about, after all?). I also like to write things out (by hand works even better, for me at least).

C. Mundane storytelling community and gigs.

D. Kids love to help. So do audiences.

E. Listen to tapes. Some of my personal favorites include Syd Lieberman, Donald Davis, Jackie Torrence, and Elizabeth Ellis. Your library should have some of these.

F. Attend a "coaching" session. These are great, and you learn as much from watching other people improve as you do from the advice you receive directly.

A. Don't stop and apologize! All that does is break the fictive dream. An audience that feels sorry for you is an audience you can't entertain.

B. The mark of a pro doesn't lie in always telling the story "right"; it lies in recovering well when you foul it up. Everyone does.

C. Back & fill. Many times you can fix the problem by saying something like, "While all this was going on, the Princess was also busy . . ." Other versions of this include, "Now you need to know that . . ." and "I have to tell you that . . ."

D. Diffuse the 'oops' moment with humor. "That king isn't actually in this story, but . . ."

• Done gracefully, this can actually help you connect with your audience better.

E. A lot of times you're best off just forgetting about it. Maybe the story will miss something, but that might still be better than breaking the flow.

F. Verse is the worst. If you forget an essential line of a poem (or mix them up and put the late one early), fix it without comment and then go on. The more you dwell on it, the more your audience will be forced to do the same.

A. Shorts and Short-Shorts - Aesop. Jatakas. Parables. Chelm. There are books out there to look for. Heather Forest. Mitch Weiss & Martha Hamilton. Web pages too.

B. Regular - These are your core. A good rule for swaps and circles is "Every story should feel like five minutes."

C. Long - This is the length you should aim to get your "big" stories into, understanding that you have to be a darned good teller or they'll feel even longer. Nothing destroys circles and taints the art more than long tales from people who aren't ready to tell them.

• BTW, I have several stories that rarely get told because they're too long for most environments regardless of entertainment value. They include my all-time favorite story and a number of original pieces, so I pay as much as anyone for following this rule.

D. Epic - If you do it right and the listeners fall into the fictive dream, you can tell for an hour and people will still guess "About 15 or 20 minutes". You'd better be the headliner, however, if you're going to take this much time. And how often are you the headliner?

A. There are more ways to tell a good story than I would ever try to catalog. Your way is your way, and that's as it should be. Just be good at being you.

B. Initially, at least, your body language when telling should be about the same as your body language when you're having an animated conversation among friends. If you're a big-motion, sweeping-gesture type of person at home, that's the way you should tell. If you're a "still" type of person, do that. Acting unnaturally gets between you and your audience.

• Note: In an active conversation, almost everyone uses at least their hands to place things "here" and "there". Simple positioning does a lot for most stories.
• As you grow, you push yourself. This advice is a starting point, not a "rule".

C. The "copying" issue. It's my opinion that morality and ethics are more important concerns than copyright, especially for beginners. We learn to walk by copying. We learn to talk by copying. Why should it come as any surprise that people would learn to tell stories in the same way? On the other hand, adults are expected to walk and talk on their own. Grown-up storytellers (especially those who plan to make money) should do it on their own as well.

• Always give credit. If you don't the community will slap you down hard and you'll deserve it.
• If there's any way that what you're doing could interfere with the original teller, ask first.
• Personal stories are an exception. Don't tell someone else's personal story, especially if you tell it as your own.
• Some Indian tribes object to others telling their "sacred" tales, too.
• Original stories tend to be people's "babies." I'm a parent and I love when people show off my babies, but I might object if they forget to ask my leave. Especially the second time.
• Anything involving money, written words, or a recording is a serious exception. This is where copyright really begins to matter.
• In any given community, reputation and renown can be as important to people as cash. Academia, in particular, has adopted elaborate courtesies to avoid any taint of plagiarism and to make sure that others can follow your path if they choose.

A. Humor is always welcome.

B. Scary is almost always welcome.

C. "Deep" needs an audience that wants to listen (and, ironically, is what tellers feel most compelled to provide). Only do "deep" if you can maintain the dramatic tension. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and the deeper they are, the further they have to go.

• It's also a good idea to set a "deep" story up as part of a larger package.

D. Elizabeth Ellis teaches that stories and performances should follow a general progression from "Ha-ha" (i.e., funny & light), to "Ah-Ha!" (i.e., jump tales & other 'gotcha' endings), to "Ahhh" (i.e., soul-satisfying), to "Amen" (i.e., 'so-let-it-be' and 'I want to chew on that one for a while').

E. No exaggeration: I probably read 50 to 100 stories before I find one that "sings" to me. That's no more than average.

• If it doesn't "sing" to you, don't bother learning it. It won't come out right and you won't enjoy it. You don't need to know why it sings to you, but make sure that it does.

A. Hero stories depend as much or more on the villain. It's Grendel that makes Beowulf look great.

B. Pacing is a BIG deal. Adrenalin tales live on dramatic tension; i.e., pacing. Timing is the soul of Humor; i.e., pacing. Wisdom tales rely on a sudden insight; i.e., pacing.

C. Humor makes a great set-up for a different emotion (see "peaks & valleys"). For real impact, insert a quick bit of Funny before hitting them with Serious.

• By contrast, humor often works best when you've set it up with another emotion, like some kind of peril or problem.

D. Patterns of any kind make good setups too.

• A lot of the best stories have built-in patterns, too, that you may miss until you look for them. Fire-famine-flood, e.g., or triangulation (miss that way, miss this way, aha!).
• Look for the patterns in the story you're trying to learn. That can sometimes help a lot.

E. Use really vivid images sparingly (they can overwhelm), but try to use them for repeats, e.g., what you saw going and what you see when you come back changed.

F. Most spoken language is passive (i.e., it has some form of the verb "to be" in it). Active language and stronger adjectives can help to sharpen your peaks and valleys. Dialogue is even more potent. Add dialogue when you want people to sit up and take notice, and be ware of it elsewhere.

• "Run on sentences" may be a sin for writing, but it's much less true for spoken English. We often start sentences with "and" and "but," for example. It can even be used as a pacing trick. "And this, and that, and those, and these. Dialogue."

G. If you set an "object" somewhere in your tale, make sure you remember where. The same thing is true for direction and orientation. People always notice when the cat climbs a tree and then looks up at the dog.