How to Tell a Great Story: Share the Heart
The Five Foundations of Storytelling Part Two: Share the Heart
The Five Foundations of Storytelling
Part Two: Share the Heart
If Find the Hook is about earning your audience’s attention,
then Share the Heart is why they decide to stay.
Stories are meant to be emotional. That’s the point.
And science backs this up: In our Science of Storytelling series, we explored how stories activate the brain more deeply than facts. They stimulate empathy. They light up the areas responsible for memory and emotional response.
Story + emotion = connection.
That’s what “sharing the heart” really means:
Letting yourself be human.
The Power of Being Real
The most common word people use to describe my storytelling is “authentic.”
For years I thought it was just my personal style. But, after being on stages for over thirty years, I can now say this with all confidence:
People lean in when you stop pretending.
Especially when the story is personal.
We throw around words like “vulnerable” and “raw” and “real”—and yes, those can all be overdone. But here’s the truth:
We listen to stories told by people who show us their heart.
And we eventually lose interest when they don’t.
So how do you actually do that?
Here are four simple ways to share the heart:
1. Say the Emotion Out Loud
I’m a big fan of just announcing your emotions as you felt them, especially the ones we tend to hide.
It doesn’t have to be dramatic. It just has to be honest:
“I was terrified.”
“I felt like an imposter.”
“I was fuming with anger.”
“I was crushed with regret.”
Calling out the emotion, by name, draws people in. It gives your audience permission to feel something too. It signals that this story isn’t just about what happened. It’s about what it meant.
2. Narrate Your Inner Dialogue
One of the most powerful things about telling (or writing) a story is that you can let the audience “hear” what you were thinking in the moment.
Your inner dialogue is where the tension lives.
It’s where we find the humanity—and often, the humor.
Let them hear both the angel and the devil on your shoulders. Let them hear the insecurity, the overthinking, the little lie you almost told but didn’t. Let them hear what you wanted to say but couldn’t.
Be honest about the conflict in your head.
Because here’s the secret:
The more private it feels, the more universal it probably is.
And inner dialogue? It’s often where the comedy lives too.
3. Show the Moment—Don’t Talk About It
When I was learning improv at Second City—long before I was performing regularly—I had a bad habit.
I kept putting the exciting part of the story in the past.
One day in my Level 3 class, I started a scene as a college student walking into a frat house and saying to my scene partner:
“We lost the dean’s cat!”
It felt like a strong opening. High stakes. Clear setup.
But my teacher, Joe Kelly, immediately stopped me.
“Don’t tell me. Take me there.”
We started over.
This time, I began the scene on my hands and knees, crawling on the floor, looking for the cat.
It killed.
The 10 other students watching were rolling. Even Joe let out a few chuckles. Because I wasn’t just talking about the big moment—I was showing it.
That’s what it means to show the heart.
Take us to the emotional moment. Let us sit in it with you.
Don’t say, “I was devastated.”
Show me the room. The silence. The moment.
4. Don’t Rush the Big Moments
It’s human nature to want to rush past uncomfortable emotions—especially in front of other people.
But I’ve learned that silence is a storyteller’s best friend.
In my one-man show, I tell a story about being bullied in 8th grade. There’s a moment when I share what a kid said to me:
“Nobody likes you. You should kill yourself.”
The first time I performed it, I let the line settle for a beat, but then I quickly moved on. Almost to rescue the audience from the uncomfortable moment I created.
Likely because I didn’t want to sit there either.
But now when I get to that part, I don’t rush past it.
I’m sitting in a chair when I say it.
And after I speak the line, I stare at the floor.
For a long time.
The silence speaks its own language.
And when I finally look up? Half the room is crying.
That’s the power of pause.
The moment breathes.
The audience embraces you. And one another.
It works in comedy too. Hold for laughs. Let them breathe.
And it works in writing. Slow your pace in the big moments.
Say the thing. Then stop.
Let it land.
The Heart Builds Trust
We don’t connect through perfection.
We connect through truth, humanity and shared experiences.
And connection creates trust.
And trust is everything.
So don’t just tell us what happened.
Tell us what it cost.
Tell us what it meant.
Share the heart.
***I’m doing a PAY ONLY WHAT YOU CAN AFFORD PLAN for 1:1 story coaching. More info here. Don’t let money be the reason you don’t start your next chapter.***
Super helpful. Thanks.!
This is medicine.
“Don’t say ‘I was devastated.’ Show me the room.” That line alone could heal 90% of the storytelling on the internet.
You’re right—heart isn’t performance. It’s permission. And silence? That’s where the soul speaks louder than the script.
Thanks for modeling what it looks like to stay human when it would be easier to just be clever.
Virgin Monk Boy
(former disciple of the well-polished mask, now sworn to the awkward holiness of real)