Tim's Tales: What makes a good face for storytelling?

“I am,” I replied.

A huge grin came onto his face. He must have been in his early twenties, but when I looked at him, I recognised him from when he was much younger. I remember faces more than names, so I asked his name and how he knew me.

He told me that years ago, I had been storytelling in his class when he was in primary school. He is an adult now but he remembered some of the stories. But mostly he remembered how the storytelling made him feel. He remembered my expressions and the emotions of the stories.

I was amazed he’d recognised me after all those years, but he told me he recognised my hat first, then he realised who I was!

“Wait,” he said, as he thought for a moment, “your name is Tim. Tim the storyteller.”

“Aye, that’s me,” I replied.

We briefly chatted about those times and the stories I told. I shared a couple of riddles with him, just like in the old days, and then I unfortunately had to say goodbye.

“That’s made me really happy,” he said, “meeting you again.”

“Me too,” I replied.

It was a magical encounter for me. It made my day.

I want to be clear, though, it’s not about me, it’s about the tradition and process of storytelling. That’s what made the connection and the impact. There are many storytellers out there making a huge difference, along with teachers, community and youth workers, parents and, of course, children themselves.

Storytelling is for everyone, regardless of age; well, regardless of anything really. It’s simply for everyone.

But ideally, it should begin in childhood and be a regular childhood experience. If we grow up with stories, they become part of our childhood landscape and they help us navigate the challenges of the world.

Being a storyteller is a gift beyond words which I never take for granted. I’ve often written about the power of storytelling and its positive impact, so I’ll not repeat myself.

But I’d like to say this.

Screen addiction is a real issue. It seems unavoidable and, as a parent, it makes me feel a bit powerless.

I see it everywhere: in the streets, in cafes, at bus stops, in the supermarket queue. We often look like zombies, glued to our screens, and if I’m being honest, I can be as guilty as anyone else. We try to limit it in our house, but it feels like trying to stop the approach of the tide.

It’s limiting our ability to concentrate and think, replacing critical thinking and reflection with short-term and often inane clickbait.

For me, that’s where storytelling comes in. If we can carve out some time to do other stuff, like storytelling, I think we will be OK. Screentime is here to stay, I’ve accepted that, we can’t stop it, but we can limit it and keep it in its place. And to do that, we need to have other forms of entertainment.

For us, that includes storytelling. Every day. Even if it’s only on the bus, or when on a walk, after dinner and especially at bedtime. I’m an evangelical storyteller, not in any religious sense, but in the sense that I want to spread the belief that storytelling can make our lives better, more fun, and our relationships closer and more meaningful.

That’s a big claim, I know, but I think it’s true, and it’s why I continue to be a storyteller after all these years.

I was once told I have a perfect face for storytelling. I asked what was meant by that and the reply was: “You can look grotesque, funny, kind, happy or sad, all in a switch of a moment depending on the needs of the story; your face looks like it’s made of plasticine.”

Being a storyteller, I accepted that as a compliment.

But we are all storytellers, with our own styles, our own tales and our own facial expressions. I don’t know about your face, but I’m sure its more flexible than you know. Use it to tell your story and to convey an emotion in a story.

That’s what our kids need: fewer screens, more of our faces as we tell them a story.