Looking at the newspaper last week, I saw the list of new television shows the networks are planning to cancel. Viewership is down, so shows launched over the past few months that aren’t performing as well as trashy reality shows will probably get the axe.

Although there are tons of reasons why a show gets canned, the primary culprit is bad writing. So when a terrific story comes along, it’s gold – think Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Atticus Finch, Sherlock Holmes and Peter Pan.

A great story can make up for bad acting, poor lighting and cheesy sets. Readers and audiences will stay up late, book or Kindle in hand, tune in week after week and hang on every word when the story’s an intriguing one.

It’s easy, though, for good storytelling to fall by the wayside as we look for ways to trim corners and speed up life. We want the abridged edition, and many are only willing to sit still for highlights at the top of the hour or a few lines that scroll across the top of our computer or television screen.

Good stories take their time, and good storytellers understand the fine line between drawing out a story to have more time in the limelight and letting the story gently unfold.

Great stories lay a foundation and build on it word by word. Great storytellers understand magic happens through those words, and their job is to dispense those words with emotion, great gestures and the enchanting whisper.

They never forget that the story line comes before the way they pronounce their words or the timbre of their voice.

The truth is great stories allow us to see ourselves in the tale, and they inspire us to be a little bit nicer, a little bit braver or a little more aware of what’s around us. They capture our imagination from the first few words, hold us in their spell and then leave us hungry for more at the end.

My grandmother was a terrific storyteller. Her voice would rise and fall as she talked about her pampered childhood in Lebanon, her and my grandfather’s tumultuous path to America and their lean days during the Depression.

The basic story was fascinating – growing up on a silk farm and how, as young newlyweds, she and my grandfather had to prove my grandfather’s innocence when someone accused him of being a bigamist. Turned out a girl who’d liked my grandfather found out he’d married, so she decided to try and ruin his honeymoon.

She embellished the story every time, fine tuning it as writers do today on a computer or a laptop. I’d sit next to her on the couch at night, waiting impatiently for the tale to begin. She never disappointed, and I’d make her tell me those stories again and again.

I thought about her the other night when my granddaughter picked up a spiral notebook and a pencil and began scribbling on a page. After a few minutes, she said she’d written a story and wanted to read it to me.

She began with “once upon a time” and “read” me the story she’d written. Her voice was filled with pauses, whispers and sound effects, and I could tell she was enjoying the telling of the story as much as having a captive audience.

After a few minutes, she paused, smiled and said “the end.” I clapped, realizing she has a true gift for both writing and telling a story, just like her ancestors before her.

And, in the end, that’s what keeps all of us connected from generation to generation – our story.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.