The story must reach a climax and stop there. Many a good story has been spoiled by its ending. Story-tellers sometimes remind one of a man holding the handles of an electric battery. The current is so strong that he cannot let go. The story-teller must know when and how to “let go.” Let us suppose that, in telling Hans Christian Anderson’s story of “The Nightingale,” the story-teller—after the delightful denouement of the supposedly dead Emperor’s greeting to his attendants, where he “to their astonishment said ‘Good morning!’”—were to add an explanation of the effect of the nightingale’s song in restoring the Emperor to health! It would be like offering a glass of “plain soda” from which all the effervescence had departed.
Bring the story to its self-wrought denouement and—let go. Do not apologize for the ending, do not explain it, do not tack on a moral—just “let go,” and you will leave all the tingle and exhilaration of the magnetic current still in the veins of your listeners.
So much for the structural form of the story. Next let us consider its
Point of Contact
Has the story something which is in common with the life and experience of the listeners? Has it a familiar groundwork? Does it deal with familiar objects or actions? In other words, is it “understandable” from the child’s point of view? Not that all the characters nor all the adjustments of the story need to be those which the child already knows by experience, but there must be some common ground from which a start may be made. Then the story may lead on into wonderful regions of fancy or into remote times and places which only the imagination can trace. For instance, of what value or interest would the story of “Toads and Diamonds” be to a child who never had seen a toad and who had no knowledge of what a diamond was like? And does not the boy’s understanding of “How Thor Went Fishing” lie in the fact that he has fished?
Little children love to be told stories of the life which they know by daily contact; stories of the home and of the home industries, of school, of children, of pets and animals. They live in “a daily fellowship with nature and all creatures.” Fairy tales and stories of animals are doubly delightful when the fairies and the animals do the things which children do. This does not imply that the story be commonplace, for the normal activities of children are far removed from the commonplace, and the story, having its point of contact established, should, through its imaginative or its moral influence, carry the child into quite unexplored regions of beauty and truth.
This leads us to another determining factor—the determining factor—in choosing a story.
Is It Worth Telling?
The structural form of a story may be changed; with more difficulty a point of contact may be established by a bit of suggestive explanation, but if the story content is not good, no amount of “doctoring” will make it worth the telling.