Imagine you find yourself on a dark and winding path through the forest. The trees tower around you, their gnarled branches home to startling hoots and mysterious rustles. The path twists and turns deeper and deeper into the woods, beckoning you forward into its shadowed secrets.

And you know you must because home is on the other side.

With you on this journey is a simple lantern, the glow of a single candle the only thing to guide you home. And so with handle gripped tight in an outstretched hand, you take the first step onto that dark forest path.

At first, you see nothing but fog around you, the licking flames casting warped shadows into your view. The cold hand of fear creeps down your spine, coiling down, down until your feet feel frozen in place. And for a moment you think about turning back.

But then your eyes begin to adjust, and the light gives shape to the shadows. Now you can make out trees and bushes, owls and deer, even a creek bubbling gently beside you. The shadows dissolve, those to which they belong washed in an incandescent glow.

Oaks and pines dance in the breeze, the shrieks and howls that once pierced the dark now melt into a melody; a raucous rhythm inviting the night to wake. As the path winds on you find your feet instinctively stepping in time to the ethereal song swirling to life around you.

The candle flickers forward, revealing more of the path ahead. The song swells and climbs, mingling with the stars twinkling to life across an indigo sky. Moonbeams curl from treetop high, weaving with fire and flame, threading a tapestry of light to blanket the night. The shadows gone, the path now clear, the forest’s secret is drawing near:

Though the path is deep and your feet may roam, there’s a whisper of light to carry you home.

Story is that light.

Good storytelling is like learning to see in the dark.

My job as a storyteller is to not ‘make a product’ but to act as a guide in a twisting and turning world.