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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: narrative

The Story of Story, Part 2

16 Friday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, HCI, psychology, story, Uncategorized

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AI, books, communication, education, fiction, HCI, interview, knowledge, narrative, needs, psychology, story, truth, user experience, UX, wants, writing

Introduction: 

This is the second in a series about using stories and storytelling in the design, development, and the deployment of products and services. In each post, I will weave in some advice about what makes for a good story as well as how to use stories. In this first case, the emphasis is on using stories to help uncover customer needs and wants. Needs and wants are not quite the same thing. For an extremely worthwhile discussion on the difference, check out this classic article by George Furnas. 

We Human Beings are not just Information Processors; we are also Energy Processors.

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I had just attended a conference on “knowledge management” co-sponsored by IBM consultants and IBM Research. On the plane ride back, after finishing the crossword, I turned the page to find a full page color ad by an IBM competitor that proclaimed: “Knowledge Management is simply [sic] providing the right information to the right person at the right time.” Color me skeptical, I thought. It isn’t simple to do those things. Beyond that, the formulation seemed simplistic even in its formulation.

The image of one of my undergraduate professors flashed into my brain. Professor MacCaw, (as we will call him), taught advanced German, a language which he had learned in a Russian prison camp, which might explain his approach to testing. At semester’s end, he asked, “Who in class wants A?!” 

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All two dozen of us raised our hands, of course. At this point, he proceeded to — there is no other word — attack one of the students in the class who had had four years of German in high school and had also lived in Germany for two years. The contents of his questions were not really that difficult, but the manner in which he demanded the answers was horrid. He would ask, for instance, “In first story, main character went where?” (He would always ask the questions in English). 

And she would begin to answer (necessarily in German), “Er geht…” And after a couple words were out of her mouth, he would scream, “Please to conjugate!” This meant that she would have to think back to the last verb she uttered and then conjugate it. “Ich gehe, Sie gehen, …” Then, he would interrupt again and scream a completely different and unrelated question in English. She would begin to answer; he would interrupt after she uttered only a few words: “Please to decline!” This meant, that she would have to give the various forms of the last noun she spoke according to the case. But once again, she could not finish but only begin declining the noun when he would once again interrupt. After 40 minutes, she was in tears and he looked menacingly around the room and asked, “NOW! Who in class STILL wants A?” 

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I have zero desire to go hang gliding or sky diving. But when it comes to the danger of mere social humiliation, I say, “Screw it. Been there. Done that.” I was one of only two of the remaining students who raised their hand. This act won me the next turn on the chopping block. He proceeded the same whip-saw questioning fest with me. The two-period class was almost over when he finished with me and began questioning “Mr. Lepke.” The bell rang and everyone else in the class left. Later that evening, I chanced to see Professor MacCaw in the Student Union. He walked up to me, eyes blazing. “Ha! I had Mr. Lepke after class for two hours! Finally, he said to me, ‘No, No, Dr. MacCaw, no more, I beg you. No more!’” 

This oral exam was difficult (even with my “screw it” attitude). It was much “harder” than my dissertation defense, for example. Again, it was not the information requested but the manner of questioning that made it difficult. People are not emotionless robots, as it turns out.

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The next semester, not surprisingly, only about half the class returned. One day in class, as Dr. MacCaw began one of his lengthy digressions on Eastern European history, he stopped himself in mid-sentence to say, “What is THIS!? Someone is passing notes in my class! I will take note and read in front of entire class!” He snatched the note, unfolded it, and indeed read the note in his loud ringing voice: “Doctor MacCaw: your zipper is down.” And, indeed it was. He had meant to humiliate someone in front of the entire class — and he had succeeded. He had the necessary information delivered at the right time to the right person, but — thanks to his own actions — it had not been done in the best manner — at least not the best manner for him. 

Human beings are not just information processors. We are living things and as such, the emotions, the vibes, the manner, the intensity of presentation — these are all vital to how we will react at the time and also how we will feel about the people involved and what we will recall years later. And this fact also means that the atmosphere you create when you interact with various stakeholders will vastly impact the quality of the insights and stories that you receive. If you really care about the people and are really committed to doing something to making people’s lives better; if you are truly open to hear and take in something unexpected or even disruptive to the project; and if you allow your informant to feel that truth about you, you will obtain the gold ring. 

Stakeholder Stories Solicited at their Sites. 

If you use a mechanical method and a mechanical tone and a mechanical manner to ask your users and other stakeholders about their needs and wants, what you will uncover are the most mundane, most rudimentary, most superficial and socially acceptable needs and wants. You can indeed use this information to design a product or service, and you may even have a product or service that succeeds in the marketplace. It will likely be, however, a rather short-lived “win.” Why? Because you are designing to fulfill wants that are subject to the wild winds of passing fashion rather than to catch the fire of an underlying passion. 

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What I found for myself was that it typically took about an hour of talking with a stakeholder, and most importantly, listening attentively, before they began to tell me their real stories. Your mileage may differ according to culture, context, power relations, your personality, and so on. I like to use a semi-structured interview. In this type of interview, there are known questions that I want to ask. But I also schedule plenty of time to let them elaborate, tell me what’s what behind the scenes. I know that in the corporate world, there is an ever-present push for being “efficient” and getting the job done as quickly as possible. So, it’s tempting to get the informant “back on track.”

I always prefer to interview an informant in their workplace. This seems like common courtesy; it puts them more at ease; and it sometimes reveals their use of other people, references, private notes, etc. as well as what they are dealing with in terms of atmosphere, noise levels, interruptions, desk space, etc. It also makes it much more likely that they can retrieve more of their own memories about work incidents more accurately because of all the contextual cues. 

John Whiteside, who ran the Usability group for Digital Equipment Corporation for a time, recounts running various usability studies and gathering data in various ways about a product they were designing for manuscript centers (places where human beings, historically almost always women, transcribed the dictation of others into text on a computer so that it could be edited, re-written, stored, etc.). The first time that they visited their users in the field, they discovered that they spent about seven hours a day typing and about an hour every day counting up, by hand, the number of lines they had typed. So, in one instant, they realized a feature that would improve productivity significantly. 

Guidelines for Soliciting Stakeholder Stories. 

When I managed the storytelling project at IBM Research, I was fortunate enough to hire Deborah Lawrence to help with the project. She thought it would be a cool idea to interview experts in a number of fields whose job, in one way or another, involves soliciting stories. So, she went out and did just that. I believe that her interviewees included medical doctors, policeman, reporters, social workers, and psychotherapists. These various practitioners had very similar guidelines. 

Story Elicitation Guidelines:

  • Provide a “warm-up” period.
  • Tell something personal and revealing about yourself; perhaps tell a story that is a model of the kind of story you’re looking for.
  • Observe an implicit contract of trust.
  • Provide a motivation for the story — why it’s important.
  • Accept the storyteller’s story and worldview.  Don’t resist the story.
  • Reveal who you are, how the story will be used, potential audience and goals, answer questions.
  • Use questions to probe.  Sometimes, a totally “off the wall” question can create space for story to emerge.
  • Empower the storyteller — they are the expert.
  • Avoid threat; don’t appear as an expert yourself.
  • Listen with avid interest.

These may seem fairly obvious such as does a lot of the advice in the book, How to Win Friends and Influence People. (Come to think of it, that might be the single best book you can read if you want a career in HCI/UX). However — back to the guidelines. I think they seem obvious once pointed out, in much the same way that once someone points out the “pig in the clouds” (or the face in the tree) you cannot not see it. 

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The above list is not, of course, meant to be the definitive such list. This was based on one study. If you have additional guidelines or disagreements, please let me know. 


Author Page on Amazon

The Walkabout Diaries

The Myths of the Veritas

A Pattern Language for Collaboration

Travels with Sadie

Fifteen Properties

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

After All

All We Stand to Lose

Imagine All the People

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar


Coelacanth: Chapter 1/3

08 Saturday Oct 2022

Posted by petersironwood in family, psychology

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

fiction, narcissist, narrative, politics, story

2008: 

JJ loved the ocean. Out here, there was never any question about who was in charge. He glanced over at his son Trevor, fourteen, trolling astern. Port side, Trevor’s friend Billy seemed to have snagged something. JJ grinned. Opportunity knocks, he thought to himself. He scrambled down to help Billy. 

“Whoa! You’ve got a big one! Better let me brace you.” For JJ, this part was well-rehearsed. He wrapped his strong right arm around Billy’s waist and gradually moved his body closer to the youngster’s backside. His left hand snaked around to guide the reel. “You have to play this guy! I’ll teach you. Follow my lead.” 

JJ shouted, “Look at that! A hammerhead! Nice job!” The trick was to keep the boy’s attention on the difficult and demanding task of bringing in a dangerous fish. Meanwhile, JJ sidled up more closely to Billy’s backside and slowly slid his right hand toward the boy’s crotch. There was always a chance one of these kids would tattle, but that only added to JJ’s excitement. If he played this gig right, the boy would also be aroused before he even knew what has happening. 

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

“Hey! What are you doing mister Jordan?!” 

“Keep hold of the line, damn it!” JJ commanded. “Pay attention or you’ll lose him!”

“Bring him in yourself! Keep your hands off me! Pervert!” 

The boy tried to squirm away, but JJ still had enough of his collegiate strength to hold him fast. Billy twisted and slipped just as the shark dove deep pulling the boy overboard. 

JJ stared into the ocean and saw two other sharks, aroused by the chum and struggle, attack the boy. Trevor suddenly screamed in his ear. “What the hell did you do, father? Throw him a line for God’s sake!” 

JJ pulled Trevor away. “Look away, son! It’s too late. He’s gone! I told you boys shark fishing was no picnic. You’ve got to do as I say!” 

“Bullshit! I saw you! You were trying to put your hand down his pants! Is that why my friends never come back for a second fishing trip?” 

“You’re crazy! I tried to save him!” JJ screamed. 

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

Trevor’s vision narrowed and he charged his father meaning him to deck him. 

Mister Jordan’s experience as a linebacker kicked in. He side-stepped and planted both hands on his son’s back, propelling him into the roiling ocean. The sharks starting tearing him to pieces as well. 

JJ’s wife Pollyann had now come up on deck. She uttered a primitive, unearthly growl. 

JJ pulled her back from the railing. “Don’t look! It’s too late. The boys are gone. They’re with God now. I tried to save them.”  

Mrs. Jordan struggling to speak. “I saw you push Trevor overboard! What the hell! You monster! I will make you rot in hell!” 

“Don’t speak to me like that!” JJ tried to think back. How much could she have seen? Where was Lila? Still below decks. If Pollyann dies, the whole company goes to me. 

Pollyann screamed, “Don’t speak to you like that?! You just killed our son! What the hell?” 

“Listen, Polly. He tried to jump overboard to save his friend. It was pointless. They’re sharks everywhere! Trevor’s a hero. I was trying to save him, but he wrenched away from me. I’m devastated too. Naturally. Come here, love. Come here.” 

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Pollyann narrowed her eyes. Had she misunderstood? She saw them struggle. It seemed like Trevor had charged him and JJ pushed him. She wanted to give her husband the benefit of the doubt. She shuffled back to him, trying to read his face. At last he held her tightly to him, comforting her. His hug tightened to a diaphragm-paralyzing bear hug. JJ didn’t relish the hassle of getting a new wife, but he saw no alternative. He chucked her over into the writhing sea. He watched the insatiable sharks destroy the last bit of damning evidence. He sighed. Damn. That was a close one, he thought. He turned back to see Lila staring at him. 

JJ acted the part of a devastated victim quite well; well enough to brainwash Lila and well enough to hoodwink the local cops who were predisposed toward JJ in any case. Many still remembered his stellar college career as a middle linebacker at State. Of course, that wouldn’t put them in a frame of mind to let go a killer. But it did put them in a frame of mind to give him the benefit of the doubt. Being white and apparently well-to-do enhanced his credibility. Lila knew none of this at the time. For her, the fact that the police believed her father made it seem more likely that she had hallucinated. After all, as JJ constantly reminded her, she was understandably perturbed and caught off guard, dazzled by coming into the bright light suddenly from below deck. “Besides,” JJ asked Lila, “why would I kill my own wife and son or even a young friend? What possible motive could I have?” 

Their Dead Shark Eyes

Dick-Taters

Gambit Disinclined

Poker Chip

Absolute is not just a vodka

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

The Orange Man

Where does your loyalty lie?

My Cousin Bobby

Essays on America: Wednesday

Identity Theft

Labelism

Dance of Billions

Myths of the Veritas: Homecoming

29 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Tags

empathy, fiction, leadership, legend, love, myths, narrative, story, Veritas

Many Paths trotted over to the location specified by the drum rolls. Her eyes skimmed over the path ahead, skipping from one good landing spot to another. She gave a little chuckle as she reminded herself that there was no need for another sprain in the family. Images of her brother Tu-Swift and her lover Shadow Walker both loomed into her mind’s eye. She missed both of them so much. She believed it likely that Tu-Swift was fine but Shadow Walker was another matter. She felt he was okay, but being surrounded by ROI and Z-Lotz…? That was inherently dangerous and unstable. She really wanted both of them to be with her. 

Then she sighed and thought to herself, If I am really going to attempt to bring peace to the tribes — or bring the tribes to peace — I must be able to master my own feelings. Trunk of Tree is not the person whose counsel I most wish for, but still he does have a different perspective on things and I should tell him that I value that. But … 

She stopped in the path and listened to the drum signals. There were four people approaching. So far as Many Paths knew, Trunk of Tree had stomped off by himself. Who were the other three? She frowned and bit her lower lip, but she took a deep breath and waited for the drumbeats to signal who his companions might be. Soon, she knew, the signal drums would inform her of names for known people and transmit descriptions for unknown people. 

Her eyes widened. The drums did not speak of Trunk of Tree. No! It was Shadow Walker! She began sprinting toward the spot the drums indicated. And, Eagle Eyes! And two more Veritas! Her strong legs now propelled her forward even faster, fueled by a mixture of gratitude, longing, joy, and curiosity. At last, she came around a bend in the path, went up a slight rise and saw a party ahead on the path. Shadow Walker!

She screamed his name, “Shadow Walker!” 

Shadow Walker saw Many Paths and began running as well. They came together in a rib-bruising clasp. They closed their eyes and kissed each other wordlessly. Many Paths chided herself for forgetting how wonderful her partner smelled. And tasted. She pushed him away at arm’s length to allow herself a good long look at him and then hugged him to her again. “Shadow, Shadow, Shadow!” 

She again pushed him away and smiled at him. “You have no idea. What? We thought… Dear Eagle Eyes.” She embraced her as well. “Who —? I’m sorry. Forgive me, visitors. I am Many Paths of the Veritas tribe.” 

Shadow Walker’s smile of joy seemed to illuminate the nearby sheaves of grass. “Many Paths, allow me to introduce Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns. These are the parents of Cat Eyes! We — there is so much to tell, but we must save much for another time. We must — I am afraid that we suspect the Z-Lotz may come after us. I am sorry to say, we must be prepared for another attack.” 

Many Paths greeted Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns with a genuinely warm smile. “I am very happy to meet you. Come. Let us go to our Center Place where we may prepare guards so that we may tell each other our stories in peace and safety!” Many Paths took the hands of Eagle Eyes in her own and then hugged her. “I missed you too! I could really use your advice on so much. There is so much. But wait! Are you sick? Are any of you sick? You don’t look sick. But very recently we have had a plague here.” 

Shadow Walker quickly explained that he believed all four of them to be well though there were many among the Z-Lotz and ROI who were quite sick and many had died. As the small group proceeded toward the village, many other Veritas came out to greet them as well for all had heard the drum signals. By the time they came to the Center Place of the Veritas, a great crowd had assembled. 

Many Paths strode up to the speaking stone that stood at one end of the clear open space in the middle of the village. She called out in strong, happy voice: “As you can see, Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes have returned! And, these two companions are Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns and all have tales to tell. But first, we must make sure the guards are on alert. Although they do not believe they were followed, they have reason to think we must be ready for another attack by the Z-Lotz, the people who steal children.” 

When she had finished her short speech a thousand questions began to be whispered while the drummers pounded out their message of caution to the guards that had been posted at the outskirts of the Veritas lands. When the drumbeat signals stopped, Many Paths held her hand out to Eagle Eyes. Many Paths desperately wanted to hear what Shadow Walker had to say, but she felt that Eagle Eyes should likely tell her tale first. 

She ascended the rock and described how she and Shadow Walker had quite easily tracked the recent envoys from the Z-Lotz. She told how the men they tracked had all fallen quite ill with red dots and how they had buried their bodies in rocks. She began to describe how unclean she and Shadow Walker had felt after. As she thought back on that, she felt the color rising in her neck so she quickly skipped ahead. “In any case, we snuck into the city of the Z-Lotz and thought we were unseen. We were captured and held separately. We had all been on the verge of being murdered in public by the King of the Z-Lotz, NUT-PI. He had a killing stick which he was going to use to torture and kill us along with many other prisoners. As she looked out on her tribe, she could see that they were spellbound. She nodded briefly and went on. “I looked up into the sky and saw eagles. I closed my eyes and imagined their calls.” By now, Eagle Eyes animated every aspect of her story. When she closed her eyes, she saw eagles right here and now. So did most of her audience.

Photo by Nigam Machchhar on Pexels.com

She continued, “I called them to me. They began to circle and then swooped down in a flash to attack NUT-PI. He tried to kill them with his killing stick but he was too slow. And…we had another weapon!” 

She paused, enjoying the expectant looks on the faces before her. “Not so long ago, some of you may have seen that we were playing with reflections and found that enough reflections of the sun, concentrated on one place, could cause small sticks to catch fire. The Z-Lotz put a shiny collar on us. While we were imprisoned, Gathers Acorns and I hatched a plan that, if we had a chance, we would shine the sun into the eyes of our enemies. Shadow Walker and the other men prisoners had similar collars. He quickly caught on to what we were doing and added their reflections. Since NUT-PI was the immediate threat, we all reflected our little suns onto him and his head burst into flames!” 

The eyes of the Veritas widened as they pictured someone bursting into flames. She let this image sit for a moment in the collective imagination of her tribe. Then, she resumed.



“Different tribes choose their leaders in various ways. The Z-Lotz choose by assassination! Since Shadow Walker, so we claimed, had killed NUT-PI, he should become their leader. As you might imagine, many objected to this, but, at least initially, since it was their habit, and the people were afraid, most accepted him — us really — as rulers. I can tell you more about how that went later, but first, there were several attempts to overthrow Shadow Walker by assassination. Last night, Tree Vines came at night and told us there was going to be an attack by many in the morning so we had to leave immediately. We came here. Obviously, the Z-Lotz already know where we are. But we didn’t see any signs that we were being followed. Still, prudence would say that we need to be careful. From the Z-Lotz standpoint, Shadow Walker is actually still king…so long as he’s alive, that is. But even apart from that, it’s clear that they would not mind exploiting us and possibly even destroying us.”

Many Paths spoke next. “Did you bring NUT-PI’s killing stick back with you? Were there more?” 

Eagle Eyes glanced at Shadow Walker. Then, their eyes locked. It was clear that Eagle Eyes wanted him to explain why he had made the killing sticks inaccessible. He nodded, almost imperceptibly and ascended the rock, unafraid to take a helping hand from his friend. “By sheer accident, we discovered a stash of killing sticks. By the way, I destroyed the one NUT-PI had. It was a thing of much violence, clearly, but beyond that, I knew nothing about how to operate it. So, I destroyed it. If I had kept it, it might have been used against me. I could not picture myself killing a human being in such a way with such a thing.” He paused as though reliving how difficult the decision had been.

Then, Shadow Walker continued his narrative.”We found a stash of killing sticks. By accident. We don’t know who among the Z-Lotz knows of its existence. We had not yet decided what to do with them when Gathers Acorns and Tree Vines told us we must leave with as little as possible. I made it so the Z-Lotz could not easily get to these killing sticks. If they know about them, they will eventually get them but, Gathering Acorns also poured a combination of fermenting acorns and sewage atop the killing sticks. She believes this will render them useless, not to mention disgusting, but we are not really sure.” 

Many Paths regained the gray granite stage, and said, “Now, here is another thing. These helpers of Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes — Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns — are the parents of Cat Eyes. They have been apart for many years. And, as soon as these two are rested from their journey, we will have a group quickly take them to their village on the other side of the mountain so they can be re-united at last with their daughter.”

A clear voice rang out from the edge of clearing. 

“That won’t be necessary!”

——————————————

The Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: Feast and Fire

—————————————-

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