How Stories Change the Brain Ben’s dying. That’s what Ben’s father says to the camera as we see Ben play in the background. Ben is two years old and doesn’t know that a brain tumor will take his life in a matter of months. Ben’s father tells us how difficult it is to be joyful around Ben because the father knows what is coming. But in the end he resolves to find the strength to be genuinely happy for Ben’s sake, right up to Ben’s last breath. Everyone can relate to this story. A recent analysis identifies this “hero’s journey” story as the foundation for more than half of the movies that come out of Hollywood, and countless books of fiction and nonfiction. Why are we so attracted to stories? Why the brain loves stories The first part of the answer is that as social creatures who regularly affiliate with strangers, stories are an effective way to transmit important information and values from one individual or community to the next. Think of this as the “car accident effect.” What makes a story effective?
García Media → The multimedia storytelling post-Snow Fall: progress? It is without a doubt, the pioneer model for multimedia storytelling in the digital age. The New York Times' “Snow Fall: The Avalanche at Tunnel. Creek” won a Pulitzer Prize (2013) and inspired many with its well crafted use of multimedia elements woven within the narrative. I, for one, thought that Snow Fall would bring about greater experimentation with the genre of multimedia storytelling. And so, 20 months after Snow Fall, here are at least three recent multimedia stories all of which are excellent examples of the genre. All emphasize segmentation, all introduce texture woven into the narrative via photo galleries, quotes, videos, highlights. Let's take a look! Wired: The Most Wanted Man in the World The opening paragraph of the narrative: HE MESSAGE ARRIVES on my “clean machine,” a MacBook Air loaded only with a sophisticated encryption package. The Guardian: Beyond the Border First two paragraphs of the narrative: Firestorm in The Guardian
Vladímir Propp Vladímir Yákovlevich Propp. Vladímir Yákovlevich Propp (en ruso: Влади́мир Я́ковлевич Пропп), (San Petersburgo; 29 de abril de 1895 - Leningrado; 22 de agosto de 1970) fue un erudito ruso dedicado al análisis de los componentes básicos de los cuentos populares rusos para identificar sus elementos narrativos irreducibles más simples. Su Morfología del cuento (Morfológuiya skazki) fue publicada en ruso en 1928; aunque influyó a Claude Lévi-Strauss y Roland Barthes, fue prácticamente ignorada en Occidente hasta que fue traducida al inglés en el año 1958. Analizó los cuentos populares hasta que encontró una serie de puntos recurrentes que creaban una estructura constante en todas estas narraciones. Son una serie de 31 puntos recurrentes en todos los cuentos de hadas populares. La teoría de Propp se basa en un análisis estructural de la morfología de los cuentos, donde parte del corpus para llegar a la clasificación. Las funciones de Propp[editar] A saber: 01) Alejamiento. V.
» Roy Peter Clark The day after 9/11, 2001, I got to interview my cousin Theresa, who escaped from the 57th floor of Tower I after it was hit by the plane. Thirteen years later now, I have read the story I wrote for the Poynter website based upon that interview. It gave me chills, not because of the way it was written or constructed, but for the sheer drama and terror of the catastrophe it describes. In my lifetime I can think of no story, no breaking news event – not even the Kennedy assassination – that affected me so deeply, that changed the way I view the world. Screenwriter Robert McKee teaches that every good story needs an “inciting incident,” that sudden, unexpected moment that rips through the fabric of normal life and changes almost everything. With a story as big as 9/11, some reporters decided to go small. At some point I realized that the story should be told from her point of view, not narrated by me. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.
Why Storytelling Will Be the Biggest Business Skill of the Next 5 Years This is a guest post by Shane Snow, chief content officer at Contently, a New York company that connects freelance journalists with corporate assignments. The article first appeared on the Content Strategist blog. In 2012, a pale woman with crazy eyebrows and a keytar strapped to her back made a video of herself, wearing a kimono and holding up hand-Sharpied signs on a street in Melbourne. One by one, the signs flipped, explaining that the woman had spent the last 4 years writing songs. She was a musician, and had parted ways with her record label, which had said the cost of her next album would be a whopping $500,000. “This is the future of music,” one of her signs read. And then she posted the video on Kickstarter. Palmer changed the game for independent musicians with that campaign. Every few minutes, a new buzzword rips through the business world, skids, gets a few quick books written on it, and ends up in a pile of tired terms next to “synergy.” Good stories surprise us.
Why Your Brain Loves Good Storytelling It is quiet and dark. The theater is hushed. James Bond skirts along the edge of a building as his enemy takes aim. Here in the audience, heart rates increase and palms sweat. I know this to be true because instead of enjoying the movie myself, I am measuring the brain activity of a dozen viewers. Many business people have already discovered the power of storytelling in a practical sense – they have observed how compelling a well-constructed narrative can be. As social creatures, we depend on others for our survival and happiness. More recently my lab wondered if we could “hack” the oxytocin system to motivate people to engage in cooperative behaviors. In subsequent studies we have been able to deepen our understanding of why stories motivate voluntary cooperation. These findings on the neurobiology of storytelling are relevant to business settings. My research has also shown that stories are useful inside organizations.
Tema y premisa, clímax y resolución | escrilia Para aclararnos desde el principio definamos los términos, por un lado tenemos el tema de nuestra novela que es la esencia del relato, el eje alrededor el cual gira la narración. El tema no es algo concreto, sino un concepto abstracto, universal, algo que todos podemos entender: el sufrimiento, el heroísmo, la violencia, la crueldad, etc. Como vemos, son todas palabras que, independientemente de si transmiten un valor positivo o negativo, no se atienen a una época o a un espacio determinado. El tema de nuestra historia es lo que queda de ella cuando la reducimos a una sola palabra. Una vez hayamos decidido el tema que ha de tratar nuestra novela debemos definir nuestra perspectiva personal sobre ese tema, la mirada del autor. Si el tema era sólo una palabra que contenía la esencia de nuestra novela, la premisa es una frase que establece nuestra postura ante ese tema. Digamos que usted ha decidido a escribir una historia y quiere probar la premisa: ¿No le gusta la historia? 1. 2. 3. 4.
The Psychological Comforts of Storytelling When an English archaeologist named George Smith was 31 years old, he became enchanted with an ancient tablet in the British Museum. Years earlier, in 1845, when Smith was only a five-year-old boy, Austen Henry Layard, Henry Rawlinson, and Hormuzd Rassam began excavations across what is now Syria and Iraq. In the subsequent years they discovered thousands of stone fragments, which they later discovered made up 12 ancient tablets. An alphabet, not a language, cuneiform is incredibly difficult to translate, especially when it is on tablets that have been hidden in Middle Eastern sands for three millennia. Even so, Smith decided he would be the man to crack the code. In 1872, after the tablets had been sitting in the British Museum’s storage for nearly two decades, Smith had a breakthrough: The complex symbols were describing a story. The story on the 11th tablet that Smith had cracked was in fact the oldest story in the world: The Epic of Gilgamesh.
How to Lose Your Mind and Create a New One By Katrin Geist Guest Writer for Wake Up World Breaking the habit of being yourself requires – dare I say it? – discipline. Daily discipline. So why not actively create your life, instead of mostly running in automatic-reactive-survival mode? Interacting with the quantum field Nobody is doomed by their genetic makeup or hard wired to live a specific way for the rest of their lives. Says Dr. “You… broadcast a distinct energy pattern or signature. In essence, we influence the quantum field through our Being-states (and not only through what we want). Vision and creative mode A brain region called the frontal lobe plays a key role in envisioning the life you desire. If you can hold a vision regardless of what’s going on around you, you are in creative mode, i.e. you refuse to respond to any triggers in your environment, and you KNOW with 100% certainty that your vision must come, as it already happened in the quantum field. This is exactly what we admire in great leaders: Gandhi, Dr.
Quit Advertising to Employees and Start Storytelling with Them – Bill Baker's BlogA Storied Perspective – Bill Baker's Blog Employee communications is often an area of responsibility that falls in organizational no-man’s land, wandering overlooked and under-served between the purview of Marketing Communications and Human Resources, who typically have more pressing priorities (e.g. advertising, branding, recruiting, compensation, etc.). In an ideal world, employee communications is a joint effort between these two departments, leveraging the communications expertise of the former and the workforce insight of the latter. But even when this joint effort exists around employee communications, companies do it a disservice if they approach them in the same way they do with external communications, advertising to their employees instead of conversing with them. Too much of the internal communications we see feel like overwrought ad campaigns, designed to ‘sell’ an idea to employees instead of truly engaging them in it. The concern usually driving this approach is around messaging (i.e.