Begin with the Shape of the Evening

A family storytelling event lives or dies by its rhythm. You are not putting on a play, and you are not simply reading a book aloud: you are gathering people into a circle, real or imagined, and carrying them somewhere together. Aim for 45 to 60 minutes in total, holding four to six tales of roughly three to eight minutes each. Shorter tales for the youngest; a little more room for the older ones once they have settled. The traditional shape works beautifully. Open warm and lively, build through participation, place one gentle scary tale in the middle, then ease back down to a calm finish. Think of it as a campfire in miniature, even if your campfire is a village hall with the radiators ticking.

Choosing Your Tales: A Three-Course Menu

The British and European folk tradition is a treasure-house, and you can raid it freely. A reliable programme runs something like this:

• A short, funny opener to gather attention and set the tone.
• An animal tale, brisk and clear.
• A cumulative tale with a strong refrain, so everyone can join in.
• A gentle scary tale for the shiver.
• A quiet closing tale to send everyone home settled.

The animal tale gives momentum; the refrain tale builds the shared voice; the scary tale delivers the thrill; the closing tale lets the heart slow down again. Get that order right and the evening feels effortless, even when it has taken weeks of quiet preparation.

Animal Tales: Short, Sharp and Satisfying

Animal tales are the workhorses of a family event. They are short, the characters are instantly graspable, and children track them without effort. Think of The Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs, the Scottish Wee Bannock, The Cock, the Mouse and the Little Red Hen, and the old favourite of the flattering fox and the crow with the cheese. Keep each one under five minutes. Do the voices: the pig's bluster, the fox's oil-smooth charm, the hen's weary patience. Children do not need gore. The wolf tumbling down the chimney into the waiting pot is quite enough, and it leaves everyone laughing rather than fretful. If you have a mixed-age crowd, animal tales are your safest, most generous ground, because a four-year-old and a nine-year-old can enjoy the same story for slightly different reasons.

Participatory Refrains: Turning Listeners into Tellers' Helpers

This is where an audience becomes a community. Choose three or four moments in the programme where everyone can join in, and teach the refrain before you begin. Say it once yourself, then have them say it back. When they know it, they own a piece of the story.

• "Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?" Have the children stamp their feet for each goat, soft for the smallest, thunderous for the biggest.
• "Run, run as fast as you can..." A clap on every "run" turns the tale into a gallop.
• "Fee, fi, fo, fum" Let the adults growl it low. Children adore hearing grown-ups make frightening noises.
• "Boggart, boggart, you're not wanted here!" Perfect for North Country boggart tales, and fun to shout in unison.

Beyond refrains, hand out small jobs. The children can be the wind, the river, the creaking door, the sea. A slow ripple of hands across the room makes a wave; a whisper becomes the breeze through the barley. Once they have a role, they lean in rather than fidget.

Gentle Scares: Thrills Without Tears

Children come to storytelling wanting to be frightened, safely. The rule of thumb is that the threat must be named, contained, and then defeated or outwitted, and preferably by wit rather than by violence. Molly Whuppie outsmarts a giant. Tom Hickathrift sees off his own. The Hedley Kow of Northumberland is a trickster rather than a terror, and a boggart can often be placated with a bowl of cream and a polite word. Then there is the craft of the telling itself. Slow right down. Lower your voice until people lean forward. Hold the pause a beat longer than feels comfortable. Put the frightening moment in the middle of the evening, never at the end. Afterwards, break the tension deliberately with a laugh, a hand-clap, or a silly voice. And do warn parents beforehand that there will be one shivery tale, so they can sit close to the smallest listeners and decide for themselves.

Practicalities: Light, Timing and the Wind-Down

The details matter more than you would think. A few specifics:

• Lighting: two or three battery lanterns or a string of fairy lights. Dim, but never dark. Everyone must be able to see your face.
• Arrangement: a semicircle. Children at the front on cushions, adults on chairs behind, so that parents are present but not blocking the view.
• Props: one object only. A shawl, a wooden bowl, a smooth stone passed around as the storyteller's stone.
• Your voice: learn the bones of each tale, not the words. Tell it; do not read it. If you need a book in your hand for confidence, keep it closed.
• Signals: a small bell or a soft hand-clap to open and close each tale. It saves a great deal of shushing.
• The wind-down: the last tale is quiet. Lower the lights, slow your voice, finish with "and that is the end of the tale." No sudden noises, no jump scares. Give everyone a minute to come back to themselves before the biscuits appear.

An age band of roughly four to nine works best. After the final tale, let the children talk to each other. The chatter afterwards is the sound of stories taking root.

After the Telling: Keeping the Fire Lit

Invite the children to retell their favourite tale to someone at home, or in the car on the way back. Send them away with one refrain they can teach a friend. Storytelling is not a performance you perfect; it is a fire you keep. The finest compliment you will ever receive is a seven-year-old, three days later, announcing to nobody in particular: "and then the wolf fell down the chimney."