Miracle number two: The Moth

Julia: storyteller

I have issues with personal story telling. There’s lots of it about, especially if you like to listen to spoken word radio, as I do: The Moth and Story Corps on NPR, not to mention TED talks and On Point.  BBC Radio 4 is also full of them. Even in our modest city of Burlington there are four or five different groups running occasional Open Mics and StorySlams.





Ranger Julia telling story to hawk

I’ve been telling stories all my life (that statement’s open to interpretation, isn’t it!). I remember telling stories to my little sister, seven years younger than me, as we walked the mile to school along Cardiff streets. Years later I “became a storyteller” constructing programs of traditional stories to tell at libraries, schools and camps. Later still I became a national park ranger and realized that the job consisted largely in bringing to life true stories about nature, people, places and events in stunningly beautiful locations.  

 Somehow, in recent years I slipped into telling personal stories. I blame Recille. She encourages me. She runs a gentle story-sharing circle at the public library in Williston, Vermont, on sporadic Mondays. I enjoy the challenge of plucking a true story out of my memory to fit the prompts she provides. But it didn’t stop there.  I joined one of her school projects and told my American Parcel story at Charlotte Central School. I began attending her Open Mics, which are non-competitive: we simply enjoy and appreciate one another’s stories. But then I discovered competitive events like the Vermont Storytellers evening held in the Monkey Bar in Winooski and Extempo, the monthly central Vermont StorySlam organized by the elegant Jen Dole.

 The pace was hotting up. There were winners at these events, judged in various ways. If there are winners there must also be losers Hmmm.  I began to have my doubt about this whole thing. What were we doing? Why were we telling these stories? Why was I getting up there under the lights, microphone in hand, to talk about myself? What is personal storytelling about anyway?

 

"The proper study of
mankind is man"

The proper study of humankind may well be other people, to paraphrase Alexander Pope, which means we all enjoy a well-told story about someone else's life; but should that lead us to hang out our dirty linen in public and invite others to laugh at it? Or are we connecting to subjects of universal significance by using particular illustrations from our own experiences?

 Besides which, I wasn’t winning. I came near once at Extempo, but no result.

 So I was backing off this whole idea. I was busy working in the national park, telling stories all day; I had no wish to do it in the evenings, too, I told myself.

 Then The Moth came to Burlington. That’s the real thing: the National Public Radio syndicated thing. Every month in 2014 a Moth StorySlam would be held. Anyone was invited to participate, throw their name in the hat (literally) and take the chance of being one of the ten selected tellers that night. There would be judging. There would be one winner each time.

It was hard to get tickets and I was living away from Burlington, but the lure of a national program of personal storytelling was too great for me, so I managed to get a ticket for the September event and my name was drawn. I thought I told a good story on the required theme of “Pride”, but no result. I noted that the winning story was, as usual, a funny, sexy one. That’s what the crowd likes. Aw, well, I wasn't keen on the idea of competitive storytelling anyway. I had philosophical caveats about it.

Come November, I decided to go along as a mere spectator. The theme was “Rivalry” and I couldn’t think of a story; and I didn’t want to compete anyway.   I settled down with my glass of wine, my friend next to me, and listened.

We were into the third story of the evening when it came to me: “Of course I have a “Rivalry” story! The Little Jersey Heifer is a “Rivalry” story!   How could I have been so stupid as not to realize that?”  I sat there chastising myself and silently rehearsing my story to see if it really fit. It did!!! It did, it did!  And I hadn’t put my name in the hat! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The interval intervened. Recille turned and surprised me by asking: “What are you thinking about?” I stalled. I wasn’t ready to share this stupidity of mine. Besides, I now had a plan.  “Oh” I extemporized  “I was thinking how people respond to stories about places they know, the local connection is a really good idea, don't you think.”

I excused myself, ostensibly to go to the bathroom, which I did anyway just to make the excuse real. But en route I diverted to the stage and casually asked the handsome young director: “Do you have enough tellers tonight? Because I didn’t put my name in but I’d like to tell if you need someone.”  He smiled gently and replied: “Oh yes, we’ve got enough tonight – but you could come and tell at Brattleboro on Tuesday.”

What I thought was: “Frigging Brattleboro – that’s nearly 200 miles away, I’m not driving down there in the dark on a hope and a prayer!”   What I said was “Oh dear, thanks anyway.”

I resumed my seat, determined to put this frustration and disappointment behind me. I was mentally rating the tellers, figuring out who had won, when, following the eighth story, the handsome young director came to the microphone. “It seems some people have left, and we don’t have enough tellers," he announced:  “There was someone who came up to me in the interval asking about telling. Is that person still here?” Is she, by gum! “That was me” I hissed to Recille. I raised my hand – yes, that was me.

So, miraculously, I was the tenth teller that night. I told my heart out. I hit the high spots and the low spots, and in between I kept them guessing. They laughed in all the right places; they applauded when I finished. It was funny; it was sexy; even more miraculously - it won!

Yes, I won the Moth StorySlam. And, y’know what: this competitive storytelling might not be such a bad idea after all!

Oh, are you wondering about the story of The Little Jersey Heifer? Watch for my next Post!