One of my greatest ever naps (and my most important Storytelling lesson)

“I can’t eat! If I eat, I vomit!”

Lucy, the old lady I’m sitting with, is upset.
I’m at the day centre for seniors with dementia, where I volunteer once a week. Lucy is my favourite. Six foot tall and rake thin, she has short, scruffy hair and clothes that hang off her. Usually, she’s very sweet. A big smiler. And she loves to sing.

LOVES.

It’s clear that, in her younger days, she was some kind of professional. You can tell from the sharp, clear vibrato she randomly lets out at various points in the day.

Her memory is almost completely shot. She asks me if her daughter is coming, and is placated when I tell her, “Later, Lucy”. Then, thirty seconds later, she asks again.

Lunchtime is always stressful. And always the same.

“I can’t eat! If I eat, I vomit!”

To calm her, I crouch down on the floor next to her chair, so that I can be lower than her. I take her hand, look up into her eyes, and sing, “Lu-cy, siiiiing wiiiiith meeee”

Usually, this works. Usually, her eyes light up, she looks right at me, and she sings that piercing, beautiful vibrato.

“Laaaaaaaaaaa!”

But not today. Today, she continues to look upset and pushes her plate away. My stomach tightens. Watching her in distress like this feels horrible. So, I stand her up. She grabs my arm tightly, using me as her mobility aid. We move into the room next door, away from everyone else and away from the food.

We stroll around the room, weaving our way through the blue, institutional armchairs. Eventually, we come to a small love-seat, and sit down together.

As we rest there in quiet, companionable silence, my eyes start drooping. I’d had a late night. We are holding hands, both of them in each other’s, between us. Eventually, I put my head on her shoulder, and she put hers on my head. We drift off to sleep together.

I wake up feeling movement on my knee, and then wetness. I realise that Lucy, having woken herself up dribbling, had wiped the drool onto her hand, and then from her hand onto my dress. I smile at her, then stand up to take her back next door.
 

Storytelling Tip:

Storytelling is action scenes.

Narrative plays a part, but for the most part, what we care about most is the details. This is all embodied by my core concept* of small storytelling which is:

When you’re telling a story, you’re making a movie inside your listener or reader’s brain.

And when you’re using storytelling in your work — whether it’s in a blog like this, or a presentation or keynote — all you need is one action scene.

Take this story: the actual narrative is “old lady doesn’t want to eat. Younger lady takes her next door and they nap together.” Not that compelling. But what makes it are the sensory and emotional details.

To understand more what I mean about this — and to see me re-enact the Rocky Training Montage — you can watch what’s probably my MOST important video lesson, here: yesyesmarsha.com/moviescenes

You rule!

xx (Yes Yes) Marsha

PPS want my free guide to the magic bullet for captivating storytelling, along with free coaching via email on storytelling and writing captivating presentations? Join the Yes Yes Family — it’s FREE! Just pop your details in below and I’ll ship the guide over*:

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**Shout out to my storytelling teacher Sage Tyrtle, who first gave me this sentence in 2013, and, like a blanket, it landed a framework I could use for everything I teach about storytelling!