Writer, Author, or Storyteller?
By Liz Michalski | October 29, 2013 |
photo credit: AlicePopkorn
I am a storyteller.
I play many other roles as well — wife, mother, sister, daughter. Half-hearted runner. Avid reader. Volunteer. But I was a storyteller before almost anything else.
The form my stories take hasn’t always stayed the same, but the telling part has remained true. When I was little, before I could write, I made up stories for my younger sister at bedtime. As an adult, I worked as a reporter. When my children were young and I was so sleep-deprived I couldn’t string two sentences of my own together, I’d tell them long, elaborate versions of books I knew by heart to settle them down in the car or help them sleep. On my blog, I share snippets of my life — stories about writing or family or growing up or striving toward a goal.
I’m also an author — I have one book published and am finishing up my next. But I’ve come to realize that for me, the term author is just one more extension of being a storyteller.
It’s easy to forget this.
In the push to be on Facebook, on Twitter, to find new followers on Goodreads and reviewers on Amazon, the storytelling part can be overwhelmed. For me, at least, there are days when I have to shut off the computer, go for a walk, and remind myself to just tell the story.
[pullquote]But I’ve come to realize that for me, the term author is just one more extension of being a storyteller.[/pullquote]
Sometimes I do exactly that — tell myself, out loud, what happens next in my novel. Sometimes I take a break entirely and tell a completely different story on my blog — about how a hot air balloon almost landed in our yard and chased our (usually) fearless dog away; about how it feels to take up a new sport at an advanced age; about how fast time is going with my family and how I would do almost anything to stop it. The ‘telling’ part is still there, but the audience is different. Sometimes, the only audience is me.
I read a blog post recently that talked about what it takes to become a successful author. In it, the writer asked if you were willing to kill to get there. It was a great post, but being a successful author isn’t something I’m willing to kill for. (Family, friends, caramel and champagne are more my priorities.) In my twenties, my answer might have been different, but I know what’s really important to me now. And while I would love if every one reading this went over and liked my author page so I would have a billion followers to show my publisher, or went out and bought a copy of my book, the reality is, doing those things won’t change much of the things in my life that really matter.
What matters is living a life that allows me to tell the stories that are important to me, no matter what that format is. I’m grateful that one of those stories got to take written form, got to be placed in bookstores and in libraries, and I’m working hard to make sure my next book has the same shot. At the same time, I recognize that I may not always be an author, just as I was not always a reporter or editor. When I’m 85 and in a rest home, I probably won’t be typing up my life’s memoirs. I’m hopeful, however, that I will be regaling my fat happy grandkids with scores of stories about my scandalous past.
The medium may change, but the storytelling part remains the same, and somehow knowing that makes the ups and downs of the publishing industry easier to deal with.
How about you? Do you see yourself as more of a storyteller or an author, and why?
Liz Michalski’s (she/her) second novel, Darling Girl, was published in 2022 by Dutton. Her first novel, Evenfall, was published by Berkley Books (Penguin). Liz has been a reporter, an editor, and a freelance writer. In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and oversized show dogs. These days she’s downsized to one husband, two children and a medium-sized mutt.
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Thank you, Liz, for reminding us that storytelling is the core of it all. We get so immersed in the minutia of enquiries, edits, book jackets and follower counts that the essence is sometimes obscured. You put it back front and center. Tales uber alles!
Thanks, Alex, and thanks for reading!
This really struck a chord with me!
I too feel at my heart that I’m a storyteller. I’ve been telling my mother and brother stories since I can remember.
The act of writing prose feels to me like the most natural way to tell those stories, but depending on the story I might move to poetry or even a screenplay.
I can’t even decide what genre I write as a writer, because I go where ever the story takes me.
I hadn’t realised it until I read your post, but actually the term ‘storyteller’ sits even more comfortably on my shoulders than ‘writer.’
Thank you! :)
I’m glad the post resonated with you, Jessica. And I’m impressed that you try out other mediums for your story!
Liz-
I’m glad you’re not willing to commit murder to become a successful author. Capital felony isn’t smart career strategy.
In The Fire in Fiction I made a distinction between status seekers and storytellers. Status seekers mostly want to get published. Storytellers mostly want to tell stories.
There’s nothing wrong with learning the business and working hard at it. However, what makes that possible in the first place is storytelling. First you write. Then you learn. Then you relax. Then you tell stories.
Then you are an author. Thus, to your useful distinctions and compass orientation I would add only this role: Be a student of the craft.
One more thing…you have a scandalous past? My-my, Liz. Do tell.
“I’m glad you’re not willing to commit murder to become a successful author. Capital felony isn’t smart career strategy.”
Oh, but think of the memoir possibilities! : )
It’s funny, Donald, this is the first post I’ve written where I’ve actually thought about how you might respond. (Not that I don’t always enjoy your comments — am I digging a hole here?) The need to include craft as a tool to tell the story crossed my mind as well, so thank you for pointing it out.
Also, the ‘scandalous’ part is still a work in progress…
I love the end, imagining yourself regaling your grandkids with stories about your “scandalous past,” and it reminds me that amidst all the writing and busy-ness of selling the stories, there’s also the need to live the scandalous life to produce them. Such a great post about living (and telling stories) in the here and now. I’m grateful for that, too.
Thanks, Julia. I don’t think I could have written good fiction in my twenties for the simple reason that I hadn’t experienced enough. I’m always impressed (and a little scared of!) the people who have!
I like your idea of author being an extension of storyteller. I too love being a storyteller and that is the grease that makes my wheels turn. The publishing road is quite bumpy though and there are lots of delays and obstacles as I move along as an “author.” The road of storytelling is far more fun and goes smoother. Your opening line, “I am a storyteller” is a good mantra to start each day. Thanks!
Thank you, Paula, and good luck on your publishing journey!
Storytelling is the real oldest profession. It started around campfires and came with illustrations drawn on the walls of caves. Good storytelling enables great writing to last through multiple generations. Just ask Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Jane Austen, or even Raymond Chandler who wrote, “It might reasonably be said that all art at some time and in some manner becomes mass entertainment, and that if it does not it dies and is forgotten.”
I love that quote, James, and I agree with you about it being the oldest profession — and one that separates us from the other animals. Thank you for sharing.
Liz,
There are so many distractions these days to pull us away from what really matters. I also walk in the woods and tell my story out loud (the local fauna know ‘what happens’ before any one else). Out there, the only tweeting comes from the birds. Thanks for a wonderful post.
Susan
Ha! That’s my favorite kind of tweeting, Susan!
You made me smile this morning, Liz. Couldn’t agree more with your sentiments. When I hear writer friends totally stressing about the process, I feel sad. Few ever started writing only to be published, but somewhere along the way being published became their only goal.
I prefer to ENJOY writing. Once and a while I get caught up in the hoopla like everyone else. And yeah, it’s hard work. But so are my kids, and, ahem, my husband, my business…life. I wouldn’t trade a single one.
Always remember why you write. Because if you don’t really know, why bother?
Denise Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth
You are so right, Denise. Almost anything good (with the exception of Jordan almonds and champagne) requires hard work. Writing is no different, but I want it to be enjoyable as well.
Ah, the perfect reminder this week. Storyteller. Yeah, I want to wear that mantle for a while. And just that one. I’ve been too caught up in second-guessing myself lately. And that’s not storytelling. On to the next one!
Thanks, Liz! (P.S. I’m with Don – you’re telling us stories of your scandalous past at the WU retreat, right?)
I hope the second-guessing ends, Vaughn, because you are someone I always look to for inspiration when it comes to enjoying the process of writing.
And we’ll see about those stories… : )
I can’t tell you how much I needed to read this, just at this moment. Thank you, Liz! :)
Elizabeth, you remain one of my very favorite story tellers. I cannot wait to read your latest.
This could be a companion piece to the post I wrote here – to go out and experience life outside of the writing life – outside of this “author” persona, even if it is truly “who you are at the core of you” – because there are so many more things to know and see and do and be and find importance in.
I don’t know if I can separate the two – I really don’t even know how to define myself in this regard.
“I don’t know if I can separate the two – I really don’t even know how to define myself in this regard.”
I agree on the need to go out and experience life, not just view it as fodder for stories, Kathryn. For me, it is hard to turn off the observer part and just become immersed in the moment, but it is so worth it when I do.
Thank you, Liz – I needed this today. This reminds me that I would rather tell good stories to fewer people than bad stories to masses. As I’m doing what I think I should be doing, I plan to ask myself, “What does this have to do with storytelling?” Unless, of course, it has to do with what Donald Maass suggests, being a student of the craft.
This storyteller thanks you for your helpful thoughts.
Thank you, Valerie. Telling the best stories we can is all we can try to do, the only part of the process we can control. Good luck with yours!
Your words struck home, Liz. From my earliest memories, I was a storyteller. My mother said I was a liar, but I was telling stories. When I got old enough to write them down, I did so. No until decades later did I write longer stories. Eventually they turned into novels. One has been published.
So as a storyteller, what makes me happiest? To have someone say, “I just read your book.” I rarely hear anything after that. If the reader didn’t like it, I doubt s/he would take the time to tell me.
I collect stories like little boys collect pebbles and toads. I put them away, let them brew in the old brain stem, until one day they emerge as a scene or an entire work. Without storytelling, I’d bore myself to tears.
“I collect stories like little boys collect pebbles and toads. I put them away, let them brew in the old brain stem, until one day they emerge as a scene or an entire work.”
Is it possible you’ve met my son???? But I love this imagery — and it is how I tend to work as well. Thank you for sharing this.
Love this post. <3
Thank you!!
My mom used to say never spoil a good story with the truth. Sage advice.
Ha! I think I know a few children who may adopt that as their motto…
If you asked me to pick three top moments in my life last week, one would be the afternoon when I sat alone on a dock telling the story from my WIP to the lake. Know what? It finally made sense. There was no sentient audience present, no chance of recognition or financial gain, but I experienced a sense of bliss like no other. So I’m down with your self-concept, Liz. It seems healthy, life-affirming, and wise.
That sounds amazing, Jan. Good for you. Sometimes I need to hear my story in the quiet before it really makes sense to me, too.
I’ve somehow gone through this change since I began writing about ten years ago. Then I dreamed of publication, awards, money, an interview with Kelly Ripa. But after devoting time to learning the craft–and I mean reallly learning it, not just reading Don’s books and putting them on the shelf to be admired by family–I learned to love the story. When we love what we do and respect the necessary work it takes to make it good, then we’ll achieve those other elements of success…or not. It won’t really matter at that point because the reward comes from knowing we did our job well. I’m still holding out for Kelly Ripa, though.
I think to really tell stories the best we can, we do need to study the craft of writing, Ron. Kudos to you for doing so — and I think Kelly R is a worthy goal. I admire her arms tremendously! : )
This was right on time. I am already bogged down by the unknown details of my WIP but you reminded me why I write, because I’m a storyteller. And that it’s important to step away sometimes and enjoy telling the story.
Good luck with it, Brande, and thank you for reading and commenting.
Living in Butte, Montana, you meet storytellers everywhere. An old mining town, its families all have stories of surviving the hard life, immigrating from Ireland, close calls in the mines, the long winters. Listening to those tales can’t help but inspire writing.
“When I’m 85 and in a rest home, I probably won’t be typing up my life’s memoirs. I’m hopeful, however, that I will be regaling my fat happy grandkids with scores of stories about my scandalous past.
The medium may change, but the storytelling part remains the same, and somehow knowing that makes the ups and downs of the publishing industry easier to deal with.”
Thank you for reminding me of this truth.
Patti
Hi, Patti! I’m glad this post worked for you. Thank you for reading!
That was pretty slick Liz, but I’m on to your mediocre scheme.
Busted!
She didn’t think I’d see it. Uh-huh. She started right out of the blocks tugging at our hearts strings, showing herself to be a family person.
“I’m a sister, mother, and wife.”
But that wasn’t enough. Was it Liz?
“I’m a half hearted-runner.”
She wants us to believe she’s a humble, trustworthy person too. Uh-huh.
Busted! Notice how she didn’t say runner. She said “half-hearted” runner. Then, she shut the front door.
“I’m a volunteer.”
Bam! Pow! BUSTED! Uh huh.
Does she stop there? No. Like-a-boss, she continues to layer her message with superb, sympathetic life experiences. She almost had me at hello, but then, I saw it. Her subconscious tattled. She’d kill for caramels and champagne. Ah ha! Finally, she dropped the killer line.
“And while I would love if every one reading this went over and liked my author page so I would have a billion followers to show my publisher”
BUSTED!!!!!!!
Ha! I already liked your page- LIZ. So there!
Oh, if you saw me run Brian you’d understand that humble is the only way I can be! But thanks for busting me and liking my page!
That was beautiful. Thank you. With all of the things people “expect” writers to do and be these days, sometimes you just have to remember the important things.
Thanks, Lisen. It’s amazing how often the important stuff gets buried under the nonessentials, you know? I’m glad you liked the post — thanks for reading.
I loved your post because I also think of myself as a storyteller and imagine “I’m hopeful, however, that I will be regaling my fat happy grandkids with scores of stories about my scandalous past.”
I love the different mediums — books, blogging, dinner table stories, and letters.
My father is a great storyteller and I notice how he’s honed particular stories to perfection with frequent retelling. This is what I hope for too, to become a better storyteller.
All of my grandparents were great storytellers, and I loved hearing them tell the same tales over and over again, vijaya. I think that’s where I first got the bug.
I like the whole ‘author being an extension of…’ point.
To me, it’s like the process of an artisanal baker; first craft, then write, then sell.
Although the baker gets the benefit of eating any loaves left over, Greg. (Not that we writers don’t wind up eating our words some days…)
You are so right. We might be great writers but if the story isn’t there — well, it’s a pleasant read, but will it keep you thinking. Will it keep you up all night. Storytelling is the crux of what we do.
And it’s funny sometimes how much a good story not only stays with us, but changes in our minds. I read Dandelion Wine as a child, and had a chance to reread it a few years ago. The stories had haunted me all that time, but on rereading I found I’d brought so much more to them than was on the page. I think that’s the essence of a good story — one that stays alive in your mind.
Oh, I’m definitely a story-teller… even my blogs are stories… ;)
Those are my favorite kinds of blog posts, John! Thanks for reading.
When I was a child, I was a storyteller. When I grew up, I became a writer. When I decide to develop my writing and went back to school for a writing degree, I became an author. After my degree, I made a living as a writer and editor, mucking around with words. Now I’m trying to come back to being a storyteller again. Just following my personal arc. Trickier than it sounds.
Our arcs sound similar, Mary. Thank you for reading!
so many things you said rings bells about my own life, i needed to say how much i enjoyed your post
i remember sitting in an eng lit class and my instructor saying that, once we had our degrees, and we really wanted to write, it was time to go back into the world and, well, live, experience –
and i was so mad hearing that! ;-) i was in my late 20s early 30s, having finally gotten to college via my GI bill, already had two children starting school, been in the service, and clawed my way to college –
but, three decades later, yes, i had (and have) a lot more living to do, he was right; yet, so was i – like you, i had already been telling stories since a child to my younger brother and sister, been writing since i’d had to leave college as a late teen
it’s more as you wrote, “What matters is living a life that allows me to tell the stories that are important to me, no matter what that format is.” – and that meant, for me, writing not only in all formats (poetry, plays, stories) but also during all the “formats” of my life, young father, middle age, and now young senior, with lots of grandkids! ;-)
i’d begun to feel a touch guilty, again, for just wanting to tell stories, so thank you much for such a timely post; all the best wishes liz :-)
Felipe, I loved reading about your very full life. I hope you get to tell all those stories you’ve accumulated. I wish you the very best as you do so.
Liz, gave me a wonderful feeling to hear you say that ;-) I do hope I get to tell a few :-) thank you so much :-)
Interesting post. I have never separated “storyteller” from “author”, as all authors are storytellers in my mind. I do, however, differentiate writer from author, as writing professionally can take so many other forms in nonfiction.
I started out as a storyteller in my childhood, telling stories to my siblings, and continuing on into adulthood with my children.
I don’t see much difference between the three other than minor technicalities. An author could be considered a published writer; a writer may have his works on paper, but never read or published; and a storyteller may only have the story in his head (and not have been the author of the work), never getting it onto paper, but sharing it verbally.
[…] Writer, Author or Storyteller by Liz Michalski at Writer Unboxed. The subject of viewing yourself as a ‘storyteller’ rather than a ‘writer’ is one that Kris Rusch also recently covered and I think it’s worth thinking on. I definitely feel more comfortable with the title ‘storyteller’ and it inspires me when I sit down to the page. […]