Stories We Tell

The first story I really remember – apart from things like Little Red Riding Hood - is The Hobbit. We read it as a class in my third year of Junior School (year 5 these days). Quite a challenging book at that age, but then we had a newly qualified teacher, and presumably a bold one, in Mr Nichols. My strongest memory of it is Andrew Shuttler crying near the end. Andrew was, even then, the class tough-nut and not to be messed with. He had set off a foam fire extinguisher in the final year of infant school. So to see him crying made an impression on me – just as the story must have made an impression on him.

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There comes a time, maybe a realisation over a period of months or years, that you have forgotten more than you still know. Life and memory are like that. Facts and details slip, and whilst emotional recollections of people, places and situations remain, the exact nature of them becomes blurry.

In order to retain knowledge and to pass on what feels important, people have long told stories. In groups of friends the same things get repeated over and over when they get together. They become a kind of folklore. Bruce Springsteen describes it well when singing of “boring stories of glory days”.

Stories are often told to enlighten and educate. Stories can allow us to share experiences which we otherwise might never experience. We can read Moby Dick and try and feel what it must be like to be swallowed whole by a whale, but it’s unlikely that’s ever going to happen.

One of the biggest things that stories do, from personal experience, is give perspective.

Suddenly it’s possible to experience something that has actually happened to someone else - either the story teller or the subject of their story.        

And this perspective, this alternative view, and the possibility of comparing it with your own, is what can lead to new discoveries, fresh perspectives and new, sometimes transformational, ways of thinking.

Stephen Covey tells a story that comes from Frank Koch in Proceedings, the magazine of the Naval Institute:

???????? Two battleships assigned to the training squadron had been at sea on manoeuvres in heavy weather for several days. I was serving on the lead battleship and was on watch on the bridge as night fell. The visibility was poor with patchy fog, so the captain remained on the bridge keeping an eye on all activities.

???????? Shortly after dark, the lookout on the wing of the bridge reported, "Light, bearing on the starboard bow."

???????? "Is it steady or moving astern?" the captain called out.

???????? Lookout replied, "Steady, captain," which meant we were on a dangerous collision course with that ship.

???????? The captain then called to the signalman, "Signal that ship: We are on a collision course, advise you change course 20 degrees." Back came a signal, "Advisable for you to change course 20 degrees."

???????? The captain said, "Send, I'm a captain, change course 20 degrees.?

???????? "I'm a seaman second class," came the reply. "You had better change course 20 degrees."

???????? By that time, the captain was furious. He spat out, "Send, I'm a battleship. Change course 20 degrees."

???????? Back came the flashing light, "I'm a lighthouse."

We changed course.

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Stories such as this, told in a timely way, can be powerful in helping us see that our own view is fixed, or missing vital information.

I have been coaching informally and formally, in a work context, for well over 20 years now. In that time I have come to realise three things:

1. My brain has a way of remembering stories that I have heard and of remembering certain things that happen to me
2. When people I’m coaching are talking to me about a situation or challenge they face, it often triggers a memory in me of something else that I have seen, heard or experienced – something the same or very similar – that, I feel, could carry a valuable lesson for them
3. That people seem to appreciate the stories and comparisons. As one coachee recently fed back: “I also appreciate your breadth of knowledge and experience, and how you always seem to have a relevant anecdote or parallel for every situation I describe.”

So I decided to write down all the stories that I most frequently tell in a book – Stories We Tell. 114 of them in total (and I keep thinking of others that I failed to include). They are grouped into topics – things like motivation, teams, personal development and confidence.

I really hope that by doing this they are of help and value to a wider audience. Maybe you know someone that you think would benefit from a different perspective? What do you think?

If you are interested, pick up a copy here https://www.j1coaching.co.uk/booksandbits. Even if just one story resonates with you or with them, it could impact their life and make a big difference.

I find this kind of promotion of a self-published book ever-so-slightly uncomfortable (I recall a performance review in my late 20s when I was told I hide my light under a bushel). These days I still find it ever-so-slightly uncomfortable, but ever-so-slightly less so.

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