Do you ever wonder how much of your story your little one actually understands? Here is some good news that parents of inquisitive young children have probably already figured out: A recent child psychology study conducted by the University of Waterloo shows that even preschoolers can get into the minds of story characters to some extent.

It turns out that kids’ comprehension skills develop significantly faster than their oral skills, so even if your four-year old can’t put two sentences together to save her life, she is probably still getting a lot out of your tales.

The study, entitled The Emergence of the Ability to Track a Character’s Mental Perspective in Narrative, was published in the July 2007 issue of Developmental Psychology. It found that while the average three-year old can only track a character’s physical movements through the story, the average five-year old can understand changes in location even if they only occur in a character’s mind.

The lesson? While it is still good to keep story plots simple for young children, there is no excuse not to tell tales to your three-, four-, or five-year old on the grounds that they won’t understand. In fact, the more stories you tell, the better your child’s vocabulary and comprehension skills will become.

If you would like some advice on how to tell age-appropriate tales to your young child, check out TallTales’ Storyelling Tips for Parents of Toddlers and Preschoolers.

For more information on the University of Waterloo psych study there is a good article in ScienceDaily online.

Hi there, my name is Toni and I’m a contributing TallTales author. Recently I wrote a new story series called Sarabel to the Rescue about a young, slightly misfit hedgehog who finds herself battling a riddle-loving monster, a black-hearted gypsy king, and a gang of evil gnomes. Assuming you enjoy these tales, I thought you might be interested in how I came up with them.

Believe it or not, many of the characters and even some of the plot twists in Sarabel were inspired by a recent trek in Patagonia (both Chile and Argentina).

Far and away the most exciting part of our trip was a ten-day hiking adventure through the mountains and glaciers (think, the Patagonia company logo). We were traveling with a small group of four other tourists from around the world, our Chilean guide, Hector and our Argentinean guide, Cesar.

Among our many fascinating adventures was a couple mile hike over a glacier ending at a 75 feet ice wall, which equipped with ice axes and crampons and helped by our guides, we actually climbed (no question, it still amazes me).

But here’s my storytelling point. When I got home and began to brainstorm characters and adventures for Sarabel, it was natural to borrow from my own adventures in Patagonia. This included not only the rugged, almost surreal scenery, but also the ice-climbing adventure (after all, Sarabel and her friends have to escape from the evil gnomes somehow).

And also, to easily fill in my story’s background, I borrowed names, characteristics and mannerisms from my fellow adventurers.

The obvious point of this is that it’s far easier to be creative when you start with something that you know well. By weaving real people and events into your stories I believe you can create a more realistic, vibrant product than if you try to make up every detail.

For more advice, check out the Storytelling Tips section of our site. You might also get some inspiration from our Vacation Storytelling tips. And if you want to learn more about Patagonia, check out http://www.pbs.org/edens/patagonia/.

Believe it or not, storytelling is a great way for you to open windows into your child’s inner life—all you have to do is tell a tale and pay attention to your little one’s responses. Or put another way, observing how your little one reacts to the characters and events in your stories can teach you a lot about her inner fears and desires.

So next time you spin a tale, notice how your child or grandchild reacts. Don’t worry—there are no big tricks here. Whether you tell a story about bears, bullies at school, being left home alone, or flying to the moon, your child or grandchild is sure to give you plenty of feedback.

Especially if you have hit upon something that your child seems irrationally afraid of, your next step is to help her overcome that fear. How? Through storytelling of course! Think up a tale that stars a kid or kids very similar to yours (if your five-year old’s name is Alice, make your story about Alicia, who just happens to be the same age).

Next, incorporate your child’s real-life fear—let’s say monsters under the bed—into the story and have the heroine (who of course remarkably resembles your child in habits and appearance) grapple with and eventually triumph over the pesky creatures—maybe by telling the monster jokes or singing a silly song.

I don’t claim that storytelling is a full-proof cure for all of your children’s demons but it is great way to help them deal with the garden-variety problems of growing up.

Assuming you have a light touch and don’t over do it, you can also use a similar strategy to teach your kids important life lessons without seeming preachy or nagging. For example, an otherwise estimable dragon who eats too much junk food and won’t share with siblings might get a point across that you child otherwise refuses to hear.

But remember, this only works if the story is good. Or put another way, the opinions of a truly magical dragon are likely to be heard, but those of a boring green reptile are sure to be ignored.

For example, a tale about the world’s sloppiest, dirtiest boy who among other things, never brushed his green and loathsome teeth was enough to get my slightly toothbrush-averse five-year old to start brushing regularly morning, noon, and night!

Yesterday, I asked my eight-year old granddaughter Claire what her favorite TallTales story was. Her immediate answer was “Nikki the Invisible Girl!” “Why?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Because it has cool sounds,” she immediately answered.

For a second, I was surprised by her reasoning. No question, Nikki the Invisible Girl by Ilona Bray with its quirky kid heroine who just happens to be able to become invisible is awesome. But sounds? Really, because I’m a plot-addicted sort of guy I had forgotten what the sound effects even were.

Later, when I thought about it I realized that Claire was right. Thanks to TallTales’ sound engineer Rich Stim, Nikki does have great sound effects. From the magical shimmering noise that lets you know when Nikki disappears or reappears, to simple sounds like the cat, the shower, or the police siren, tons of great sounds make Nikki’s adventures even more fun and exciting to listen to.

And of course there is a lesson for all storytellers here. Think about it: What’s more fun to listen to—someone saying “then the lion roared” or hearing a loud, deep-throated, spirited “RRRRRROOOAAAARRRRRR?”

So when you tell tales, never overlook the opportunity to dramatize sounds such as footsteps (make clicking sounds with your tongue), animal noises, shrieks of surprise, or whatever else fits. And if you want to get more sophisticated, check out some of the many online resources on sound effects. Wikipedia is a good place to start.

At first glance, Kid Nation—CBS’s newest and most controversial reality show—appears to be a Tall Tale come to life. In the show, dubbed “Survivor-junior” by some, forty kids are left to run an abandoned western town with no adult supervision.

When I first heard Kid Nation’s plot I became immediately curious because my own story, Sheriff Daisy (available on this website), has a remarkably similar premise. In my tale, a group of kids must single handedly save the Old West town of Coyote Gulch from a gang of bandits who have lured the adults away.

The important point is that already I knew the plot idea was terrific and I wanted to see if the show would live up to its potential.

Since its first airing, Kid Nation has been surrounded by controversy over whether leaving kids to fend for themselves is in their best interest. (For a good article on this issue check out Ann Hulbert’s “Call of the Wild” on Slate, the online daily magazine.) But for the purpose of this blog, I am less interested in whether CBS is ethically right or wrong than whether Kid Nation is good or bad drama.

What did I conclude? After watching the first part of the show, it quickly became clear to me that Kid Nation could never have the same magic as a great kid’s adventure story because the producers had gotten it only half right. The half they understood is that the key to creating exciting kids’ drama (whether it’s a story or a show) is to get the adults out of the picture. But the other half (the half wrong part) obviously leaves the adults just barely off camera and calling all the shots. The result kills any kids’ magic the show might have had.

This lie at the heart of the series shines through so clearly and so immediately, Kid Nation feels like just another contrived, reality TV-series. Given the world of high-budget TV, I doubt anything can be done to save this show. But I’m curious to hear what others think.

I am amazed by the number of otherwise competent adults who think they aren’t creative enough to tell their kids or grandkids a story. (“I’ll just stick to reading books to my kids. Making up a story is too hard.”) Come on people, your audience is five, seven, and nine year olds—not the readers of The New Yorker.

If you need help getting over that first hurdle, here’s a hint: When you’re sitting at the foot of your little one’s bed trying to think up a plot, there’s no such thing as plagiarism.

Or put another way—if your creative juices are refusing to flow, just borrow from a classic story or fairytale you learned as a kid. If for example you always loved Rumpelstiltskin, then borrow its plot and change the name and appearance of the heroine so that she resembles your daughter.

And here is some exciting news. Once you’ve got a few stories under your belt—even if big chunks are borrowed—you’ll almost surely find that your initial stage fright disappears and your creativity will begin kicking in.

Storytelling rookies will also want to give biography a try. You’ll be amazed at how riveted your kids will be by adventure tales from your childhood, such as the time you and your naughty friends pulled the scout master’s tent over in the middle of a rainstorm or when you fell off the horse at the big horse show. This makes sense, since your little ones care about you and (by extension) your most dramatic, poignant, and (assuming you’re game) embarrassing moments.

For more help in overcoming your personal story block, check out my Storytelling Tips and Activities for Parents.

Jake Warner is a parent, grandparent, and founder of TallTales Audio.

I was chatting with some friends the other day about the latest Harry Potter book when one of the women mentioned that she thought the book would be too scary for her 10-year old; after all, characters were starting to get maimed and killed off left and right. This got us discussing the concept of death in children’s stories.

The big question was: When, if ever, is it okay to include death in a story for a young child?

Based on many years of telling kids stories, here’s my best advice: More than anything, context is important. Death is acceptable, even in stories for very young children, as long as it comes in the beginning of the story and happens to only peripheral or undeveloped characters. Or put another way, children normally have little problem accepting death as part of the story if it doesn’t happen to a character they know and love.

Just think about Bambi, Heidi, or even The Secret Garden. Having the parents die at the very beginning of a story is one of several ways to accomplish one of children’s storytelling biggest goals—to get adults out of the picture so the children can have their own adventures. I use exactly this tactic in two of my stories: Fiona the Smart Ghost and Rainbow of the Sioux.

The conversation about Harry Potter got me thinking about how much more protective we are of our children these days than in centuries past. If you’ve ever taken the time to read one of Grimm’s Fairy Tales in their original form, you know that children’s stories were once much more gruesome. (Check out The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales, by Bruno Bettelheim for more on the subject.) Nowadays, in many versions of the 3 Pigs, even the Big Bad Wolf lives happily ever after. Is this progress or have we become overprotective of our little ones?

I think the instinct to protect our small children from violent death is sensible. (And I never liked Grimm’s Fairy Tales because they could be so—well, grim. But this doesn’t mean we shelter our kids to the extreme of pretending that death does not exist—any cover-up that defies reality will surely backfire.

On a recent walk in the park with my wife and youngest daughter, the three of us got into a heated debate over whether or not the littlest fairy in my upcoming story Fairy Mountain should be pink or some other color (each fairy in the story is primarily identified by his or her color).

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Where’s the debate? Pink is the perfect color for a fairy.” Ah ha, but would you feel the same the way if the fairy was a boy?

You see, being your average Berkeley, California story teller I had made the youngest boy fairy pink to reverse society’s oppressive gender norms. I’ve always taken issue with how gendered colors are in our society—I wasn’t trying to be cute.

But when I let my unconventional color assignments slip to the women of my family, the normally feminist duo unanimously agreed that I had created a gay fairy.  “Are you sure you want to do that?” my daughter said. “Gay fairies are fine but they add a different dimension to your story.”

“But I didn’t make Cricky gay,” I protested, “I just made him pink. He’s the youngest and smallest of all the fairies—he’s only five and three quarters—so I wanted to make him the most fragile color.”

“Oh please,” my wife said, “it doesn’t matter what you were thinking when you wrote it. People are bound to think that a pink boy with pink hair is gay. And, remember, some of your listeners may be less tolerant then we are here in the capital of liberal America.”

“Dad, it’s like the purple Teletubby,” my daughter agreed. “Everyone knows the purple Teletubby is gay!”

“I think even the kids might find it jarring,” my wife added. “The girls will want to identify with the young, fragile, pink fairy, but may get confused.”

Are my wife and daughter right? Should I cave to societal norms and make my youngest boy fairy gold or green? I have not quite made up my mind but am leaning towards keeping Cricky pink. Any suggestions?

I was reminiscing with my 22-year old daughter yesterday about what her favorite books and bedtime stories were when she was a child. Of the stories that I told her, Rainbow of the Sioux—the tale of a little blonde girl who was abandoned in Sioux territory in 1843—was unquestionably the favorite. (This original story is now available on this website.) Rainbow was the only story she wanted to hear for several years straight and I was forced to get very creative in order to keep thinking up fresh adventures for Rainbow and her pals.

But which of the thousands of books that I had read to my daughter had been her favorite? To my surprise her answer was Tikki Tikki Tembo by Arlene Mosel. This Chinese folktale is about two brothers. The eldest is named Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo, which meant “the most wonderful thing in the whole wide world.” The younger brother’s name was simply Chang which meant “little or nothing.”

When Chang falls into a well, Tikki has no problem explaining what happened to the Old Man with the Ladder, and Chang is quickly rescued. But when (later in the story) Tikki falls into the well, his brother must repeat the long long name many times and help is slower to come. According to the tale, this is the reason that Chinese parents now give their children short first names.

The allure of the story is unquestionably the repetition of Tikki’s ridiculously long name. It’s right up there with “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” (from Mary Poppins) and Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, by Judith Viorst.

This trick can be used even more effectively in oral storytelling than in print and can give even very small children a chance to participate in a story. So next time you tell a tale about the Good Morning Bunny, repeat a favorite nonsensical phrase, such as “Hippity hippity hippity slippity slop, hippity hippity flippity flop” a number of times in the story. You’ll be amazed at how much your child loves to join in with the chorus.

The larger point here is that when you’re telling stories out loud, the message is to the ear, not the eye. This means you can routinely get away with dramatic embellishments that would look ridiculous on paper. For example, instead of simply saying “a long time ago” you can stretch it out for emphasis by saying “a looooooooooong, looooooooooong time ago”. And when a door to a dark attic is finally pried open, it should of course come with an “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK” type shriek.

For more advice on engaging your little one, check out Storytelling Tips for Parents of Toddlers and Preschoolers.

My name is Jake Warner and here is my confession—this is my first ever blog post. I decided to start a storytelling blog not only because it’s a great way to share my passion for storytelling (plus a few tricks I’ve learned over the years), but because its also a great way to trade ideas with and get feedback from other storytellers.Plus, I want to prove to my youngest daughter that even I can be technologically competent (even though I still need her help to take and send pictures on my cell phone. But, boy, that thing is really tricky!).

And as you’ve probably figured out, this blog is an extension of the TallTales Audio site. Along with Rich Stim, Toni Ihara, Ilona Bray, and Marcia Stewart, I co-founded TallTales Audio after semi-retiring from my first business venture—Nolo, a self-help law publishing company in Berkeley, California. Since then, I have retired from retiring, but hey that’s a story for another day.

Predictably, the idea to start TallTales was conceived while I was telling stories to kids in my own family. Over the years, several of my “told” stories had become so popular—like all good storytellers I do not suffer from false modesty—there was a demand for recorded versions (one of the sweetest things about kids is their delight in listening to favorite stories over and over).

Specifically, the Tibbodnock stories, starring Emilita and Maddy, were created for my wife’s cousin’s daughters, Emily and Madeline, when I noticed how bored they were at a family get-together. And it was when I got together with Rich Stim to produce a three-part CD for Emilita and Maddy that TallTales was born.

Over the years, storytelling had become a fun, bonding experience for me and my whole extended family. Given the bonds of the heart that it forges, I believe storytelling is something every family should encourage. TallTales, and by extension this blog, is my attempt to help others share my passion for family storytelling and to help you and your kids create a happy space, free from the relentless drone of video games and TV.

So, come on, try it out. For more info on the mission of TallTales Audio check out our About Us section.