You know what great storytelling is? It’s getting to the end of The Great Gatsby and somehow feeling remorse for Jay Gatsby. This guy is a con artist, a liar, an egomaniac and a delusional manipulator. If I were to meet his equivalent on the street, there’s no way that we would get along. Yet in those moments when the world is falling apart and he knows he won’t end up with Daisy, you’re still rooting for Jay to find love.
That’s great storytelling. When the storyteller makes you hold a view opposite to how you perceive the real world.
Great storytelling is the release of tension. It’s the elation that comes at the end of a movie when the hero is going to prevail. It’s the amount of anticipation that’s built until Han Solo returns in Star Wars, it’s watching the hot air balloon fly away in the Wizard of Oz, it’s Willie Wonka’s clocks ticking away the seconds until Charlie gets the Chocolate Factory.
Great storytelling is a craft. It’s the tiny details that make up the beautiful language in a Shakespearean play or the level of symbolism in of The Sword in the Stone.
Great storytelling is familiarity. It’s returning to the world of Harry Potter and feeling as if you’re among friends. It’s the castle at the beginning of a Disney movie or the nostalgia of hearing a Beatles’ song on the radio.
Great storytelling is a willingness to begin. It’s a belief that themes fade way to a resolution. Whether that resolution is positive, like the end of the Mighty Ducks or heartbreaking, like To Kill a Mockingbird or The Diary of Anne Frank, it leaves something with us.
A great story surprises us. It interrupts the way we operate in the world and changes it. There’s no one great story—which means we have more worlds to explore and more adventures in which to partake.