Your job as a storyteller is to get out of the way of the story. This isn’t about you. It may be about what you have to say, but it isn’t about you. Let go of your ego.

The more you dip into your own behavior, good or bad, the more others will see themselves and you will fade into the background.

These are all forms of “invisible ink,” so called because they are not easily spotted by a reader, viewer, or listener of a story. Invisible ink does, however, have a profound impact on a story. More to the point, it is the story. Invisible ink is the writing below the surface of the words. Most people will never see or notice it, but they will

The worst of us has good in him, and the best of us has some bad. That is a truth that many of us want to deny, but as storytellers it is the truth we must illuminate. The truth will always be sadder, happier, funnier, scarier, and more profound than the best lie. More importantly, the audience never “sees” it, but they do feel it.

If you hear the same critique from three or more people, listen to it. But keep in mind that they might be describing the symptom rather than the disease.

One of the Western world’s most recognized geniuses, the great composer Mozart, once said, “I assure you, dear friend, nobody has devoted so much time and thought to compositions as I. There is not a famous master whose music I have not industriously studied through many times. I too had to work hard, so as not to have to work hard any longer.”

If someone doesn’t understand what is going on in your story, that is worth listening to.

Several decades after World War II, color movie footage of Hitler was discovered. Some people thought it shouldn’t be shown because it humanized a monster. But that is what makes Hitler a monster—he was a human being, not some creature from outer space. It makes a much stronger point not to shy away from that fact. It means if we are not careful,

Why do people tell stories? The stories that tend to stick to our bones are those that teach us something. This, I believe, is the primary reason we tell stories—to teach.