Adventures in Capitalism: The 7 Steps of Storytelling for Entrepreneurs

As a proud graduate of Stanford I’m privileged to be part of the alumni mailing list, which includes a lot of the world's smartest, most creative people.

We've had a number of interesting discussions recently, ranging from 3D printing to the best source of "tiny balls" (don't ask). One of the most interesting has been the discussion about storytelling. One of my fellow alums reminded us of the following formula for an instant story:

·                  Once upon a time....

·                  And every day ....

·                  Until one day ....

·                  And because of that ....

·                  And because of that ....

·                  Until Finally ....

·                  Ever since that day ....

·                  And the moral is....

It struck me that this story template is extremely useful for entrepreneurs [writers]!

Source Chris Yeh

Death in the Shower Room

The battlefield wall is divided into 6''x6''
White ceramic tiles
Each square a mildew grouted war zone
Smeared with the remains of the dead enemy
Mozzies!
Arced like red commas on the glazed graveyard
Killed in action by a deft thumb, disembowelled.
Like little tubes of red paint
Alizarin, cadmium and vivid vermilion
Squeezed, swirled onto their cold white canvas
Each a miniature Jackson Pollack

© Harry Mills July 2011
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The primary urge that motivates and engenders writing

"... is the writer's desire to invent and tell a story, and to know himself. But the more I write, the more I feel the force of the other urge, which collaborates with and completes the first one: the desire to know the Other from within him. To feel what it means to be another person. To be able to touch, if only for a moment, the blaze that burns within another human being." 

— David Grossman

Dad:

No more pulse or snatching gasps, clutching the air of life

No last words from a cotton-wool coma, or coming home

No more Stretford End, Best glory goals or half-time Bovril

Or Likely Lads, no snooker or secret hooker

Three score years and ten, on the button, no extra time

Dad:

No more

(on his anniversary : 11th July)

© Harry Mills

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Good Housekeeping Recipe for Life

I am a true blue Baby Boomer, born to a patriotic family, as depicted in the wartime black and white films. With such a background, I know that Good Housekeeping is the bible of British Life.

  

Basic Ingredients:         Siblings, preferably of even numbers, so one is not left out.

                                      Elderly Relative, to give good advice and suggest jolly pranks.

                                      Freedom, to roam miles, and befriend local  Worthies.

                                      Mystery to Solve, including outwitting Bad Eggs.

Dressing:                      A Decent loving and attractive partner, as in Georgette Heyer.

                                      A Darling little house, cottage or flat,  in which to nest.

Decoration:                   An even number of bright eyed and talented children.

  An artistic and eccentric mother-in-law, whose best friend is     

  your mother.

  Daddy.

 Follow the above instructions, to the letter, until you are fifty years old.

Please note that Good Housekeeping can not be held responsible for the success of recipes as their execution is dependant solely on the quality of the ingredients used.

© Penny Smale July 2011

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The Cage

This was written in 1998, I believe, just after my divorce was finalised.  I was probably sitting on my terrace, in the dusk, and halfway through my second bottle of wine!  I was fifty….

Thinking about it, I have been living in a cage for the last 23 years, albeit of my own making, and with my husband’s assistance.

From being a self-confident person, with a good career, blessed with a large amount of optimism, I gradually turned myself into something I wasn’t, and something neither I, nor as it turned out, my husband, liked any more!

You know, you meet someone and you fall in love, and then, if you are not careful, the two of you go about changing, if not each other, then the more besotted.  It of course takes two to do this, but then you must not be surprised if, having changed your personality to suit your lover, you are then no longer suited.

I see now that I caged myself.  I wanted to please, and I went along with everything.

I completely forgot that I had been my own person, so I carefully helped to build my cage, stepped inside and threw away the key.

Who can ever be happy in a cage, once they realise it is there?  Luckily for me, my husband found the key, and using it, pushed (and I do mean ‘pushed’) me out of the cage we had built and told me to go away.

I wanted to stay with what I knew and whom I loved, and I was scared to fly, but he kept pushing me away until finally I realised that he was serious.  Eventually I stopped begging to be allowed back into my cage and instead started to explore my new surroundings.

You know, it’s not at all bad out here, and I am rediscovering my confidence and myself.

As for my husband, it seems that he wanted to be what I had become, and so his new partner is obliging by rapidly building him his own cage!

  

© Penny Smale July 2011

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White Beach: 6am

Early, very early

Dreams still elusive, uploading awareness

The beach, yet to unfold its white sheet to the heat of the Cyclops sun

Watching, silent small men raking hairy husks that stain the sand

Piling high the beach-bleached coconuts

Fashioned in a Pol Pot pyramid of eyeless skulls

Smouldering, a tropical fragrance of spiralling sweet blue smoke

Enticing sand flies that crackle in the crematorium's triangle of death

© Harry Mills

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A New York Dinner Party

Leila chose people for her party as carefully as the ingredients for the dinner she would serve them. Charlie’s beefy banter would stand up well against Tina’s starchy opinions, and Francine’s laughter was light and refreshing. Eddie who dressed impeccably and had a sharp sense of humour always added colour to an evening. Alexandra usually had something intelligent to say and could be counted upon to keep the conversation flowing. A party wouldn't be a party without Gerta. Darling Gerta, not very clever, but so sweet and pretty. After a few glasses of wine Hugo tended to light up an argument that filled the evening well after dinner was over. As a hostess, Leila was a master chef, and this night’s menu was guaranteed a success.

© Caroline Nicholson

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Recipe

Ingredients

Take:

*          An invisible person or object.

*          Unexplained phenomena.

*          A story of redemption and transcendence.

*          A moral code with a punishment and reward system -

*          adherence to which generates comfort and self belief.

*          An elaborate uniform for the hierarchy.

*          Condemnation of those who query or disagree.

*          Songs, poems and candles.

  

© Valerie Taylor

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Mosquito

Silent,deadly dengue, like a night of black fear

Closing in, homing in, getting near

On her flight path, past exhaled breath of our union

Of my body & blood, her communion

Resting on the unconscious sweated flesh

Sucking brandy-blood, to fly intoxicated with fresh

Supply to nourish her off-springs

Licking my blood, pruning her sticky wings

© Harry Mills

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