Anatomy of Storytelling: Do Stories Require Language?

In this series, I’ve been addressing questions posed on Twitter by Brian Gehrlein.

Two weeks ago, I defined story as the base unit of meaning and described exactly what that means. Last week, I asserted that storytelling is an innate skill and discussed some ways to hone that skill.

This week, I want to discuss how language and story are intertwined and what that means for us as a storytelling species. Let’s get to it.

OK, so, do stories require language?

This, dear reader, is a trick question. Before I can answer this yes or no question, we have to define what we mean by language.

If I had to guess, I would say most people, when they think of language, imagine English, Español, Deutsche, हिंदी, or another language that is spoken or written. Some of you who are more used to thinking inclusively probably imagine American Sign Language, tactile signing, Braille, or one of the languages used in various contexts by the Deaf, DeafBlind, or others communities.

What many of you may not be thinking about are the other various languages that humans have invented to facilitate communication. 

So to answer the question: yes, stories do require language. But those languages need not be verbal.

Defining language

If story is the base unit of meaning, then for my purposes, I want to define language as the vehicle of meaning

Imagine that meaning is water. To know how much water you have, you need a system of measurement. To move the water from place to place, you need a bucket. A gallon of water splashed on the ground is like a story in your mind. A 1-gallon bucket of water is a story that someone could pick up and engage with. Until you put your story into a language, it cannot be carried by someone else. 

Stories are how we measure meaning, and language is how we deliver it.

Languages and language rules

In any verbal language (here I use verbal to mean “composed of words” not “spoken aloud”) there will be rules that guide correct usage, grammar, and syntax. These rules are most useful, in my opinion, when describing what is, not when prescribing what ought to be.

For example, in American English, “Wolf eats” and “Eat wolf” mean very different things by virtue of how we use American English, not because there is an objective correctness to how American English ought to be used. Over time, languages adapt and shift, and prescriptivist grammarians can hardly hope to keep up. In 200 years, it’s possible that “Eat wolf” will be the correct way to communicate that a canine predator is taking in nutrients. 

All languages have rulesets like these. In the language of painting, different colors carry different symbolic meanings, but those meanings change depending on the cultural context of the work. Just as dime means “a small coin worth 1/10th of a dollar” or “tell me” depending on who reads it, red can be lucky or angry depending on who paints with it.

Film also has an associated language, and it’s a language that has changed and evolved like any other language. In film, the order and surrounding context of a clip can drastically alter the meaning an audience perceives. The angle of the camera, when the camera zooms, what it focuses on, and who is in frame all carry meaning as surely as any words or phrases spoken by the actors.

How we move and pose and what facial expressions we make are all a part of body language, and people go to great lengths to master this form of communication.

All of these languages are the result of people experimenting with how to deliver meaning: how to tell a story.

So what?

Whether your story is best transferred to your audience sculpted in clay, brushed on a canvas, captured to film, scribed onto paper, or choreographed as dance, that’s up to you. But the rules of the language that go along with your medium aren’t completely up to you. New methodologies, like new words and new grammar rules, are just around the corner, waiting to be discovered, but you have to start with a basic understanding of the rules that are already in place.

Before you release your story into the world, it’s a good idea to get feedback from someone else who can communicate in the required language to make sure the meaning you deliver is the meaning you intend to deliver.

We all have a story to tell; My story is about helping you tell yours.

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Adeptly Avoiding Adverbs (And Allowing Them Adroitly)

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A Haiku, an Apology, and a Promise