6 Tips to Become a Better Storyteller

March 20, 2024 | 3 min read

Storytelling is an ancient art form deeply ingrained in human culture. Whether you're a writer, speaker, marketer, or simply someone who enjoys regaling an audience, mastering the art of storytelling is a valuable skill that can enhance your communication abilities.

Here are 6 essential tips to help you become a better storyteller:

 

1. Know your audience.

Understanding your audience is the cornerstone of effective storytelling. Tailor your narrative to resonate with their experiences and emotions. Make sure your language and characters are appropriate and accessible to your audience.

Whether you're telling a bedtime story to your kids or writing a novel, adapting your storytelling style will help you connect with your audience on a deeper level.

 

2. Be personal.

Emotion is the driving force behind memorable stories. Whether it's sadness, fear, or excitement, evoke emotions in your audience to create a powerful connection.

As a famous writer once wrote, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." (This quote has been attributed to Hemingway, but its origins are disputed.)

Whether you're writing fiction or non-fiction, giving a speech or simply telling a story to friends, infusing your story with your own personal experiences will make it that much more impactful.

 

3. Pay attention to pacing.

A compelling story is built on a solid structure that includes a clear beginning, middle, and end. Of course, that's oversimplifying it, and there are many common story structures in existence. Regardless, you'll need to make sure your story keeps an audience engaged at every step.

No matter what story you're telling, you'll need compelling characters, a vibrant setting, and clear conflict to drive the plot forward.

 

4. Show, don't tell. (And know when to break the rules.)

You've definitely heard this one before. Instead of simply stating facts or information, it helps to "show" your audience important plot points through dialogue and action. This allows people to experience the story firsthand, engaging their imagination and emotions.

However, no story is without vivid description and narrative. Know when to break this rule to move your story forward and give your audience all information needed to stay engaged.

 

5. Ask for feedback.

Effective storytelling involves listening, too. Pay attention to the reactions and feedback of your audience, adjusting your storytelling approach accordingly, when necessary.

However, it's important to know when to trust your gut, too. Storytelling is subjective, and not everyone will love your storytelling style. Know when to act on feedback, and when to let it go.

One way to do this is to ask for feedback from mentors or people in your target audience who you trust and respect. This will get you the feedback you need to get better — without getting lost in too many opinions.

 

6. Practice.

Becoming a better storyteller is a lifelong journey. As with any other skill, having a regular practice is key to growth and improvement.

 

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Storytelling is a powerful tool for communication and connection that transcends boundaries and resonates with audiences of all ages and backgrounds. By honing your storytelling skills, you can become a more compelling narrator capable of captivating and inspiring others.

Every storyteller has their own unique techniques and perspective. Read our latest article to find out: What kind of storyteller are you?

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March 22, 2025 4 min read

I’ve spent years writing while secretly fearing that a single misplaced word would expose me — not just as a bad writer, but as a fraud.

My background is originally in photography, and I see it there, too. A photographer I know recently posted a before-and-after comparison of their editing from 2018 versus now, asking if we also saw changes in our own work over the years.

Naturally, we should. If our work is the same, years apart, have we really grown as artists?

So why is that the growing, the process of it, the daily grind of it, is so painful?

So why is that the growing, the process of it, the daily grind of it, is so painful?

The Haunting

Hitting “publish” on an essay or a blog always stirs up insecurity — the overthinking, the over-editing. The fear that someone will call me out for not being a real writer.

I initially hesitated to make writing part of my freelance work. My background is in photography and design. Writing was something I gravitated toward, but I had no degree to validate it. No official stamp of approval.

Like many writers, I started with zero confidence in my voice — agonizing over edits, drowning in research, second-guessing every word.

I even created a shield for myself: ghostwriting.

I even created a shield for myself: ghostwriting.

If my words weren’t my own, they couldn’t be wrong. Ghostwriting meant safety — no risk, no vulnerability, just words without ownership.

I still remember the feeling of scrolling to the bottom of an article I had written and seeing someone else’s name, their face beside words that had once been mine.

The truth is, I always wanted to write. As a kid, I imagined it. Yet, I found myself handing over my work, letting someone else own it.

I told myself it didn’t matter. It was work. Getting paid to write should be enough.

But here’s the thing: I wasn’t just playing it safe — I was slowly erasing myself. Word by word. Edit by edit. And finally, in the by-line.

I wasn’t just playing it safe — I was slowly erasing myself. Word by word. Edit by edit. And finally, in the by-line.

The Disappearing Act

This was true when I was writing under my own name, too. The more I worried about getting it right, the less I sounded like me.

I worried. I worried about how long an essay was (“people will be bored”), finding endless examples as proof of my research (“no way my own opinion is valid on its own”), the title I gave a piece (“it has to be a hook”), or editing out personal touches (“better to be safe than be seen”).

I built a guardrail around my writing, adjusting, tweaking, over-correcting. Advice meant to help only locked me in. It created a sentence rewritten to sound smarter, an opinion softened to sound safer, a paragraph reshaped to sound acceptable.

I built a guardrail around my writing, adjusting, tweaking, over-correcting.

But playing it safe makes the work dull. Writing loses its edge.

It took deliberate effort to break this habit. I’m not perfect, but here’s what I know after a year of intentionally letting my writing sound like me:

My work is clearer. It moves with my own rhythm. It’s less shaped by external influence, by fear, by the constant need to smooth it into something more polished, more likable.

But playing it safe makes the work dull. Writing loses its edge.

The Resurrection

The drive for acceptance is a slippery slope — one we don’t always realize we’re sliding down. It’s present in the small choices that pull us away from artistic integrity: checking how others did it first, tweaking our work to fit a mold, hesitating before saying what we actually mean.

And let’s be honest — this isn’t just about writing. It bleeds into everything.

It’s there when we stay silent in the face of wrongdoing, when we hold back our true way of being, when we choose work that feels “respectable,” whatever that means. It’s in every “yes” we say when we really want to say “no.”

If your self-expression is rooted in a need for acceptance, are you creating for yourself — or for others? Does your work help you explore your thoughts, your life? Does it add depth, energy, and meaning?

My work is clearer. It moves with my own rhythm. It’s less shaped by external influence, by fear, by the constant need to smooth it into something more polished, more likable.

I get it. We’re social creatures. Isolation isn’t the answer. Ignoring societal norms won’t make us better writers. Often, the most meaningful work is born from responding to or resisting those norms.

But knowing yourself well enough to recognize when acceptance is shaping your work brings clarity.

Am I doing this to be part of a community, to build connections, to learn and grow?

Or am I doing this to meet someone else’s expectations, dulling my voice just to fit in?

The Revival

Here’s what I know as I look back at my writing: I’m grateful for the years spent learning, for the times I sought acceptance with curiosity. But I’m in a different phase now.

I know who I am, and those who connect with my work reflect that back at me — in the messages they send, in the conversations we share.

I know who I am, and those who connect with my work reflect that back at me — in the messages they send, in the conversations we share.

It’s our differences that drive growth. I want to nurture these connections, to be challenged by difference, to keep writing in a way that feels like me. The me who isn’t afraid to show what I think and care about.

So, I ask you, as I ask myself now:

If no one was watching, if no one could judge, what would you write?

If no one was watching, if no one could judge, what would you write?

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A book deal without an agent? An agent offer after a book deal? Learn how Writer Bobby Miller took his publishing journey into his own hands. 

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