Stories
December 1, 2008
Lately, I’m helping the Standard 5 and Standard 6 students with story-writing, a major component of their high school entrance exam. It’s funny how they love telling stories outside (and inside) class, yet the moment I ask them to share orally or in writing, they don’t have three sentences to share. I guess many people are like that– we all have fascinating stories but when we’re put on the spot, we clam up. Especially in such a personal and vulnerable pursuit like writing. I recall a conversation with a friend in which he said that he could never be a fiction writer because he’d have to reveal so much of himself, which was scary, he said.
Funny though, today it occurred to me that sometimes we hear the the most intense, honest and personal stories from people whom we barely know. Like today– I met someone for the first time, and as we sat on a veranda on a quiet, slightly-breezy, lazy afternoon, she started telling me about the tragedies she’s had in her life … all within ten minutes of our first meeting. She had that sad, faraway look in her eyes, and unsure whether my comments and questions were helping her emotional state, I changed the subject to the opening of a local restaurant.
After I left, I wondered why she would open up to me, a complete stranger, and it occurred to me that this wasn’t the first time in my travels (here or elsewhere) that I heard deeply personal, some painful, stories from people I had just met. I don’t think it’s got anything to do with me, the fact that I’ve been privy to these unsolicited, personal stories– rather, I think it’s the fact that I am a complete stranger, or a mere acquaintance from someplace else, disconnected from the storyteller’s own life and location, that invites them to open up. No judgment, no fear of being found out? I wondered if the group of boisterous friends who had met with her prior to our meeting knew this story of hers. I wondered if she felt comfortable enough with that circle to share so freely her story as she had with me, a complete stranger. Is there such a thing as security in strangers?
Hi Heidi, this is a really interesting post. I’ve noticed this also… not so much that strangers have shared private information with me (or maybe they did and I just don’t remember), but sometimes I feel more comfortable sharing information about myself with my “less close” friends that I wouldn’t share with my really close friends.
It’s weird, I guess, but I think all the reasons you mentioned play a role in it. Sometimes I feel like the “less close” friends are less likely to judge me or remember what I say.
Maybe that’s why people open up to bartenders? =P