Suppose, just for a moment, that a time machine appears at your front door. You climb aboard, and race far, far back into prehistoric times.
It’s night when you arrive, and you come upon some tribe elders. (Since people didn’t live long then, these old fellas are probably about 29.) They’re sharing stories around a campfire.
Suddenly they notice you, and one guy shouts, “Stranger, where you come from?” (Sounds like a line from an old Tarzan movie, huh?)
Slowly you unweave your story. You speak simply, in short words or phrases, because you want to be understood.
You use simple comparatives. “In my land, we have a machine that looks much like a window. You can look into it, and see stories about people who live far away.
“These people have many problems,” you continue. “We call this machine television. And we call the stories we see soap operas.”
You also appeal to the senses. “If we must go far away very fast, we climb on a giant cart that looks like a bird. And while we fly there, somebody serves us delicious peanuts.”
Your vivid word pictures make listeners want to hear more. So you unweave the additional who, what, where, when, why, and how of your amazing story.
A single theme runs throughout. You employ simple phrases and analogies.
All you need now is a dramatic conclusion perhaps a short summary to help people remember your words.
Congratulations. This story is finished. But your career as a writer or speaker has just begun.
Humorist Rix Quinn writes the syndicated humor feature “Poor Rix’s Almanac.” His new book on writing techniques “Words That Stick” is available from your local bookstore, or
