Writing

I stole an elderly man's tale

January 10, 2026·9 min read·issue #012

I’ve always loved being the one at the receiving end of a story night.

When I was a kid, my love for stories was intense. I never missed a story night told by an elderly man in my community.

It was always fascinating how someone could tell a story so vivid that it takes us along. Most of the time, I felt like I was part of the story in those moments he spoke. It was so clear that I could see through his mouth into the depths of these words.

Then everything changed.

The man lost his wife a year later and stopped coming out to tell us stories. While we couldn’t blame him, gradually people stopped coming because he was the only elderly man who told such remarkable stories.

I kept going to where stories were always told in the evening, thinking that someday, he would outgrow his sorrow. But that never happened. Instead, I was the one who outgrew my patience with going there.

After 3 years in the same community, I had an idea.

One day, I tried to tell my friends a story.

Thinking I could do the same thing the elderly man did, it shouldn’t be that hard, I said to myself.

So I informed my friends and other younger fellows that I would be telling a very interesting story that night, and they should come.

Yes, they did come. And I did tell a story.

But something felt wrong.

It was as if I stole someone else’s tool to use, but forgot to steal the instruction manual with it. I didn’t see that focused, heart-beating spirit in their eyes.

Everyone started leaving one after the other. That was when I knew I must have done something wrong, because no one left while he was telling stories.

I was left with my two friends who were having their own conversation about a ball match. When I said that was the end of the story, their next words were, “Great story, when are you doing it again?”

I never wanted to feel the way I felt that night, so I told them never.

I went to bed, and I couldn’t sleep.

Thinking about what I had done wrong to make people want to leave, or finding it hard to focus on the story. Then I figured the only person who could know the answer to my questions was the elderly man.

So at dawn, I went to him and knocked on the door.

He opened it and said, “I knew you’d come, but I didn’t know it would take you this long. You must be a very stubborn person.”

I smiled and went to sit down.

We had a little conversation here and there, but I knew why I came, and that was the only thing on my mind. So I asked:

“How do you tell such good stories that make people believe whatever you say and feel whatever you want them to feel?”

He smiled, then said, “I was once like you. I couldn’t tell stories that people would listen to.”

I didn’t believe him at that spot. How could someone like him compare himself to me? But I was wrong once again.

“I will give you the 6 rules of telling a story that makes even someone who can’t articulate themselves better at telling a story,” he said.

Rule One: Never tell a story you didn’t live yourself or lived by someone you know.

Rule Two: Never tell a story like you are telling history.

Rule Three: Tell a story the way people want to hear it, not exactly how it happened.

Rule Four: You should persuade your listener to believe you with a sprinkle of proof.

Rule Five: Never tell a story without a transformation, the “aha” moment.

Rule Six: The end of the story is the most important.

“My son, that is how you tell a story,” he said.

That was after 2 hours of him talking, and the only thing I did was listen.

Now, Let’s Talk About The Six Rules In Detail

And how I use some of these rules in my writing, if not all of them. For people to read your stories and listen to you when you tell a story, you do not have to be a great writer. You only have to be good with your words.

Rule One: Never tell a story you didn’t live yourself or lived by someone you know.

The night I tried telling my friend a story, and they didn’t listen, it wasn’t just because I was a terrible storyteller. It was also because I was telling a story I didn’t live myself.

Isn’t that what fiction storytellers do?

On the contrary, no. I am going to make that clear as we go on.

What the elderly man said was right, but it wasn’t clear until I understood it. At first, I thought he meant you need to live that life yourself or ask someone who has lived that life to tell you about it.

Later, when I started writing and using the idea, I started noticing that more people started listening. But it still didn’t work the way I wanted. I still didn’t see that light-up spirit I saw back then.

Like a man searching for meaning, I started seeking what I was doing wrong again.

One day, just like every other day, I took a walk after dinner.

On the way, I saw a man with his son. I was walking behind them, lost in my deep thought. Then the son asked, “Dad, how do you convince your customers to buy from you instead of others?”

I broke my deep thought to listen closely.

His father said, “Son, all I did was believe my product is better than theirs. I just needed my customers to see and believe it too.”

That was when it hit me.

I knew I lived some of the stories I told, but I told them like someone who didn’t live them. If the light I was looking for is not in me, I can’t extend it to others.

The difference between a great story and a terrible one isn’t the story itself.

It’s all about the teller or the narrator. Someone well-versed in the knowledge of an event, also called a relater.

That is why a fiction storyteller can write a story from their imagination, and we will read the story with a spark in us. All because the teller believes the story itself to be true and writes it with such great spirit, we have no choice but to share in it.

Rule Two: Never tell a story like you are telling history.

No one wants another history class. You don’t want your story to sound like one.

You have written stories before or included some in your newsletter, but every single time, people get bored reading them. It’s because you might be telling history, not a story. Do not confuse the two together.

History is boring (don’t shoot me for that one), but stories are fascinating. Stories take you along into a world you have never been in, as if you are there. That isn’t history, that’s a story.

The word “story” was removed from the word “history.” In Latin, it’s called “Historia,” which means “narrative of the past account, events, tale, or story.”

The Richest Man in Babylon wasn’t a history but told as a story. That is why a lot of people love the book. The author brought us into Babylon with that book. You felt like you were there because you believed what he was saying.

Rule Three: Tell a story the way people want to hear it, not exactly how it happened.

Yes, I know you wouldn’t want to lie in your story, but unfortunately, it’s your story, and you have the power to tell it as you please, as long as you take others along and make them believe you.

Real truth: People don’t want to hear everything that happened in your story, nor do they want to hear it exactly as it happened. Your story might be lacking some essential story elements. You want to include those and filter out other unnecessary things nobody wants to hear about.

Why do you think the journey from pain to hero takes that long to happen in a movie? Because pain or failure is more relatable. Terrible analogy (blame my coffee), but it’s what it is.

Rule Four: You should persuade your listener to believe you with a sprinkle of proof.

Human beings want proof. That is the difference between animals and us. I do not think they need proof because I haven’t had a conversation with one before, and they never respond anytime I try to. It’s weird saying it that way.

You need proof for people to want to listen to you. Your proof can be a person, a place, an animal, or a thing (basically a noun).

At the beginning of this letter, I mentioned an elderly man, my friends, and a gathering. That is proof that I am right to tell this story.

You do not have to go to the extreme for your proof, but give something people can link back to.

Rule Five: Never tell a story without a transformation, the “aha” moment.

Nobody wants to spend their time reading a story that ends up the way it started. We want to feel something: pain, anger, joy, love, empathy, anything. Your story shouldn’t have one feeling throughout. We want to see the hero fall, stand, fall, and stand. That’s what makes us human.

We love to see others go through what we thought would break them, and seeing them come out successful is a remarkable sight.

Also, your story can be the other way around, a hero starting from a very beautiful place to end up falling because of their consistent bad choices.

There should be a point of lesson, or transformation. That is what your story should have. I have never heard of a great story that started and ended the same way.

Rule Six: The end of the story is the most important.

The end of a story is where people are lit up the most. Your story should start with an interesting hook to keep the reader in flow. You want to start with a scene that makes them want to read the rest of the story.

You can start with the middle, end, or beginning of a story, something most interesting, that gives so much, yet at the same time, too little, that keeps them on their toes.

A slow but steady beginning that picks up before the end is better than the other way around.

Most beautiful stories that ended terribly get bad reviews because the reader feels empty at the end. Most writers are more worried about the end of a book than the beginning.

Let’s look at J.K. Rowling, for example. She had to leave her home to finish the final chapter of Harry Potter in one of the most expensive hotels just to focus, because she knew how important the ending of a story is.

Everyone can love the beginning of a story, but if the end sucks, the whole story is broken.

The End Of The Beginning

So, after the elderly man was done with the storytelling of old ways, I thanked him and took my leave.

It was 5 years later when I started writing stories in college that this came in handy. I was said to be one of the best writers in my college then.

It took me 5 years before I started using the story-written wisdom of the elderly man, but you do not have to wait that long. You should be smarter than I am and start using this in your next writing or newsletter.

Talk soon.

- Owol

P.S. Next week, I’m revealing how to write stories that don’t just captivate readers, but turn them into buyers. If you’ve ever wondered why some stories sell while others just sit there, you’ll want to see this.

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