The Power and Danger of Narrative Garden Paths
The seductive dangers of leading your audience down the narrative garden path
Ever been asked a rhetorical question? You know the ones, those slightly irritating questions where the person asking probably already knows the answer already but is giving you the fantastic opportunity to guess what is already in their head. Like “Ever been asked a rhetorical question?”, for example.
Annoying, aren't they? It's bad enough when you realise that the question is rhetorical after the fact, it's worse when the question is rhetorical and you know it the moment you hear it.
I once asked so many rhetorical, even obvious, questions in one talk that an audience member gave me the feedback:
"Could Russ ask just one question that isn't rhetorical?"
Which, funnily enough, was likely a rhetorical question, after the fact.
Narrative garden paths are extended, super-strength rhetorical questions. Whether you know they are rhetorical when you're on them is not important—by the end you know and you feel disappointed, annoyed and, sometimes, betrayed.
“You're Wrong! Oh crap”, to “OH CRAP!”
A garden path is a narrative arc where, instead of delivering an "I rule!" at the end it simply delivers a "You're Wrong!", possibly followed by some mental self-mockery and chastening. You know you've achieved the perfect garden path when the looks from your audience at the end of your narrative arc are one of slightly bemused anger, rather than the relief or enthralment you’re really aiming for to set the stage for your next instalment. The only sensible thing to say after achieving this garden path nirvana is, "But we can save this!", before you lose them completely.
From an audience member's perspective, a garden path starts out fine. All is well with the world at the beginning of the narrative arc. As the arc continues, the audience member feels they are identifying your points. They may even be feeling a couple of jumps ahead, anticipating your arc's twists and enjoying their cleverness. They may be starting to think, "This speaker really gets me!”
There's connection; you're talking their language, and then…
You rip the rug away and expose how stupid they've been.
Use garden paths with care, or not at all
A garden path leaves your audience feeling just a little, or sometimes a lot, stupid. You've shown them that believing your story, trusting you, was not clever. This can be powerful because, when handled well, the audience's brains can be challenged and their complacency could be removed enough that they are ready to learn. Nothing get's the brain's attention than delivering a world-shattering epiphany assumed to be right that was, in fact, wrong.
The challenge is that you now need to relatively quickly get your audience to "Phew! I rule!", or at least a strong "I think it's going to be ok", before their brain's get distracted with panic. No one learns in the midst of panic, and a garden path has the power to inject just that sort of crisis. If you're going to use a garden path, then my advice is to get your audience to a resolution pretty sharpish after ripping the rug away. I use them as maybe my last narrative arc in my talk, something to introduce a "dark moment of the soul" that the audience will really remember, and I always get them to "I rule" afterwards as quickly as possible to keep them on my side.
Losing trust
I use garden paths extremely sparingly. They should never be predictable and never used more than once in a talk. It's painful enough for my audience to have their ignorance highlighted to themselves once, but if I tried to do the same again in the same forty five minute slot, they would think I’m just cruel.
The audience's brain might even give up. Given enough abuse of this sort, you'd forgive your audience if they started to avoid even listening to what you're saying for fear of being reminded how stupid they are again, and then you will have completely lost the opportunity to connect with them. Like a dog that has been teased too often, the audience will simply stop trusting you.
Personally, I avoid garden paths altogether these days. Not just because getting a garden path right is very difficult, but also because they tend to feel cruel if I even employ the ruse just once. Garden paths play on the audience feeling clever and then being ok with feeling stupid, and I just don't want my audience to feel that way.
I much prefer my audience to feel smart during and after my talks. I use narrative arcs that are strong enough to help them leave with the points that I wanted my audience to remember, without having their egos crushed along the way.
My advice: Make your audience feel smart with your story arcs, and they just might love you for it!
TL; DRs
Use narrative garden paths in your story with care.
Make sure you don't make your audience feel stupid when you use a garden path.
Aim for a maximum of one garden path per talk, or maybe avoid them altogether.
(There are) No Dumb Questions
What if my story feels like it's all garden path?
If you're telling a story where it is about the harsh, and perhaps surprising, lessons you've learned then it can feel like the whole thing is a garden path where you're going to show everyone how wrong you were at the end. That's not really a garden path though. Those talks are more like powerful, extended confessions, and if you do it right you won't be making the audience feel stupid. Instead they will likely empathise with you as they'll feel your surprise at where you ended up, as well as your relief when you learned your main point.
This was an excerpt from the Work in Progress book, “How to Speak: Tips for people who want to tell their story” by Russ Miles.