Empathy and storytelling

This was on the wall at a school I visited just before the pandemic shut everything down in 2020.

I was listening to George Lakoff’s podcast Framelabs, when I heard him say, “Empathy is the heart of democracy.” His podcast partner asked how we bring more empathy into our world. Lakoff said, “We have to do it from a societal level.” My first thought was, “Hmmph. That’s no answer at all.”

My next thought was, “Oh…wait, that IS my job. We have to start with the children.” More and more, I feel compelled to tell stories that promote kindness, compassion and courage.

I was going to write here about the science of empathy, how stories act on the brain, all the stuff about cortisol and oxytocin, what researchers have discovered, etc.. All useful to google and read about, but I’d rather tell you why telling stories to build empathy seems of paramount importance to me right now.

I want to live in a world where people care about each other, where we look out for those who need help, where we don’t say, “well, those people should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” I want children to understand that helping others—and helping the earth—is not weakness but strength. I want my presence, my stories, and yes, my puppets, to say to children, “You matter. I see you. I care. We are in this together.”

So I tell a story about a kind mole who helps a lost sparrow. We sing “I love the mountains”. I tell a story about a girl who invites everybody to her birthday party.and another about a horse who goes looking for another horse to be his friend. I model kindness when my rainbow sloth puppet Hairy is scared to meet the children. I also build in places in stories where we all take a deep breath. We sing “Poor little bug on the wall” to let all our emotions out, including those that are deemed unacceptable. Sometimes I tell funny stories, so we can all laugh together. We stretch our emotional muscles.

Not every story or song I do is about kindness, but many are. I hope they stick.

Does this resonate with you? What are some of your favorite stories or songs that build empathy?

Telling folktales

“Once upon a time…” Those magic words take us out of this time into no-time, when animals might talk, when fish might grant wishes, when an old crone might help us on the side of the road, and when, at the end, we might, just might, live happily ever after.

I’m preparing to give a workshop on telling folktales, followed by a performance of little-known stories, for Northlands Storytelling Network on March 18, so this question has been on my mind:

Why do I love folktales?

Is it because I’ve always been a daydreamer, and these stories feel like daydreams? When I tell them, I am inviting the listeners into the world in my head. Hmm. That’s not quite it, because I feel that way with every story I tell, be it a folktale, a literary story or a personal tale (factual or not).

Is it because folktales give us a way to sidle up next to Big Ideas, so that we can think about them without being overwhelmed? Maybe. When I tell the Grimm tale Maid Maleen, I remember a time in my life when I felt trapped, though I really wasn’t, just as Maid Maleen and her servant were locked in a windowless tower for seven years, not realizing they could have gotten out.

Is it because folktales are, in the words of the inimitable storyteller Beth Horner, “Personal narratives of an entire culture”? Could be. And yet, while some folktales give us a window on specific cultures, some are so general they could be anywhere.

Is it because I can look for different versions of a given folktale and create my own, without fear of infringing copyright? That’s a piece of it.

Is it mere familiarity, since I grew up reading Grimm and Andersen and the Andrew Lang collections, and they are deep in my heart and in my soul? Possibly.

How about you? Do you love folktales? If so, why? If not, why not?

Around the world and back on Zoom

My Zoom workspace

A year ago, in the waves of pandemic panic, I also felt curious. I’d been half-heartedly playing with online storytelling. “What if COVID-19 is my virtual storytelling bootcamp?” I wondered. On March 16, 2020, I began offering Zoom storytimes every weekday. Now a year later, I’m still doing it.

From my laptop in Lawrence, Kansas, I’ve reached listeners and workshop participants in Belgium, Bulgaria, Greece, Israel, India, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Argentina, Peru, Chile, Colombia, all over the US, and probably other places.

Here are a few of the questions I get asked about doing this:

Don’t you miss live performance? Yes, I do, but there is still connection with the listeners online, and sometimes an even more intimate feel to the performances.

Does it work? Surprisingly well. I was worried that it would be passive, too much like TV, but I’ve found ways to engage even young listeners. I speak directly to them, and ask them to join in on songs, chants, hand motions and other silliness, just as I do in live performance.

Don’t kids interrupt? No. Early on I learned to put everybody on mute without the possibility of unmuting unless I let them. This cuts down on the frantic arm waving followed by “My…my…my grandmother…has a cat.” In my every-weekday storytimes, kids get on at 1:45 for the 2 p.m. (CST) show. They can talk as much as they want then, and at 2 p.m. I say, “What time is it?” They say, “Mute time!”

Isn’t it distracting when kids are doing other things? I’m used to it. During Zoom sessions, I’ve had kids eating, jumping on trampolines, reading books, playing, drawing, painting, wrestling, picking their noses and more. They’re also listening. I know this, because they join in when I ask them to. Also, they come back. I have the same children every day, one of whom (hi, Gianna!) has missed only one day since she began last March.

Can you make a living at this? So far, I’m fine. Some of the storytime listeners tip me. Though I make a little plea for tips at the end of storytime, I don’t expect them—and I’m always appreciative. Schools, libraries, festivals and other organizations hire me (and they don’t have to pay mileage or lodging). I set up workshops and performances on Eventbrite, such as the Russian tales for grownups I did in February and the story games workshop I’ll be offering again in March and April. I set these up so folks in various time zones can attend. I’m also doing a once-monthly storytime for kids in distant-from-me-timezones.

The pandemic also pushed me to start a subscription service to bedtime stories for kids. For as little as $5/month, listeners have access to more than 50 audio stories (no screens at night, please) with a gentle talk-down at the end. I upload a new story every week.

Do you prerecord stories? No. While I know many storytellers do, I don’t plan to offer this at this point. On my website and YouTube channel, I do have lots of stories available to listen to and watch..

When the pandemic is over, will you keep doing online storytelling? Yes. As a self-supporting artist, I know the value of having many ways to make my living. This past year has reminded me to stay nimble, stay lively. I might taper off the every-weekday storytelling at some point. For now, I’ll keep going. Feel free to stop by the weekday storytimes. It’s not just for kids.

I also appreciate referrals, so if you know of a school or library or other organization that would like to have a storyteller on Zoom, I’d love it if you pass my name along.

Let me know if you have other questions!

When kids Zoom

Zoom calls with children are not the same as with adults. I’ve been offering Zoom storytimes every weekday at 2 p.m. CDT (same as Chicago) now for more than six weeks. I’ll keep on, until we feel safe enough to go out in the world.

Here are some things that happen when kids Zoom:

• Join in even if they can’t be heard, either by having a grownup or older kid type in the chat box or by acting out their suggestions (“What animal was next?” “Oh, yes, a monkey!”)

• Laugh so hard they fall over

• Put their eyes, mouths or noses right up to the webcam

• Watch themselves picking their noses

• Jump, jump, jump

• Eat lunch or a snack

• Hit their siblings

• Bring their stuffed animals, puppets and toys to show everybody

• Draw or paint the stories

• Show off their favorite jammies

• Wave at their friends

I show up about 15 minutes early, and some listeners join me for a little chat and music before the stories. I usually play the harmonica, but my new cat has begun meowing at that, so I play the dulcimer or kalimba or bells. (The concertina is right out as far as Gussie is concerned.)

I’ve learned to put everybody on mute during the stories. I don’t allow kids to unmute themselves, as they can easily hijack storytime, but I do plenty of audience participation. I know most of the listeners’ names and speak directly to them (those of us from a certain generation will be reminded of Romper Room).

I don’t record the sessions. I like to be able to see everybody, even though they’re in small Zoom boxes, and recording would require me to be the only one visible on the page.

Most of the kids come every single day. Sometimes adults attend as well. Even if listeners didn’t know me before all this began, they know me now. They make requests for stories, songs and puppets. At the end of each storytime, I unmute everybody so we can say goodbye to each other. While I do tell everyone how to send me tips at the end of the call, and I’m thankful for this bit of income, I don’t mind if they don’t. That’s not the point of these storytimes.

We build community, one listener at a time.

Feel free to join us!

Dear N. did the outline of me for this portrait, being painted here by dear H.

Daily storytime, an anchor for my day

What a difference a few weeks makes. Last blog post, two and a half weeks ago, I floated the idea of doing online storytelling by request, as COVID-19 came closer. That day, we were still out and about, not in self-isolation. That evening, the library in Lawrence closed. Uh-oh.

Within days, I’d decided to offer storytime every weekday at 2 p.m. CDT (UTC -5, same as Chicago). Stories, songs, puppets, almost always beginning with a little name-that-tune on the harmonica. The more I do it, the more comfortable I am with this medium. I love having regular listeners. I take requests and also try new stories. I bring my regular puppets out, with a celebrity guest puppet daily. Today was Triso, a triceratops.

I have space for 100 participants. Come on over! https://zoom.us/j/874033582, Meeting ID: 874 033 582. One friend asked if I had a virtual tip jar—now I do, my Venmo account, priscilla-howe or my paypal account, priscilla@priscillahowe.com. That’s helpful in this time when all my work for the next two months (at least) is cancelled.

Here’s what the Zoom storytime looks like from the other side:

Some listeners bring their own puppets to the party, or their stuffed animals.

Some listeners bring their real animals.

I have several reasons for doing these storytimes. One is to offer something of value to families in this seriously strange time (I’ve been calling it the Current Weirdness). Another is to give myself an anchor for my day. I know where I’ll be every weekday at 2 p.m. Another reason is to teach myself how to do online storytelling, something I’vewanted to do for two years. And of course, the reason I do a lot of things in my life, to have some fun.

Join me?

Telling stories to tinies

Telling “Mr. Wiggle and Mr. Waggle” for preschoolers a few years ago in Chile.

I love working with small children. I started out as a children’s librarian, with preschool storytime. I mixed books with storytelling with puppets with fingerplays with stretches with songs, served with dollops of laughter and silliness. That’s still what I do with tinies, more than thirty years on, though I rarely read books to kids.

If telling stories to very young audiences strikes terror into your heart, here are some ideas, in no particular order.

Above all, I hope you actually like young children. Liking them also means respecting them, not using a fakey-fakey sweet voice. They can spot insincerity a mile away. Kindness is key.

Meet them where they are. If I have a small group of young children, I get close, sitting rather than standing (I now take a chair, rather than sit on the floor).

If possible, perform in a space conducive to storytelling: quiet, without distractions. Last month in China I was in the middle of a performance for four-year-olds (in English) and realized my audience could see the children on the playground just outside our room. Too distracting! We closed the blinds.

Remember that people of all ages listen and learn in different ways: visually, aurally, kinesthetically. I build movement into my stories for the visual and kinesthetic learners, as well as songs and chants for the aural learners. Note about songs: pitch your voice high, as children’s vocal chords aren’t able to manage lower pitches.

Young children are just learning to listen. They may have a lot to say. Sometimes they just need acknowledgment and will be quiet after you give them a brief amount of attention. Sometimes you might need to ask them to tell you their news after the stories. I do not do Q&A with children under age 8, as it only leads to the kids saying, “Umm…ummm….my grandmother has a cat!” and then everybody has to say what their grandmother does or doesn’t have.

What works for a seven-year-old might not work at all with a two-year-old and vice versa. Here are some useful child development guidelines:

Age 0-2: Children enjoy peekaboo, patty cake, nursery rhymes, fingerplays. Use lots of rhyme and rhythm. Fifteen or twenty minutes is usually enough.

Age 2-3: Children still enjoy fingerplays, rhyme and rhythm, and plenty of of repetition. Use simple, simple stories, 5 minutes or less. When they’re done listening, they’re done. Try twenty to thirty minutes, but be prepared to stop earlier if the children are finished.

Age 4-5: Kids are starting to differentiate from others, to understand that others have feelings. Continue with repetition, rhyme, rhythm. Go a little longer. Silliness works well with these children. They like stories about families.. Thirty to forty-five minutes works with these kids.

Age 6-7: Children are much more aware of others, of their own emotions and those of their friends,. They are getting an idea of morality. They are also better at predicting where the story will go. I have no attention span problems with 45 minutes.

In between stories, you may need to pull the audience back together. Here’s a stretch I do that works well.

Most of all, have fun! It’s contagious!

Perspective and backstory

Every story is told from a particular perspective, from a specific point of view. When I’m working on stories, I find it helpful to shift that perspective, to stretch myself. I see the story from new angles, noticing aspects I didn’t earlier understand. I’ll tell myself the story from the point of view of a peripheral character or the dog. I don’t usually tell the story this way, but use it as an exercise to anchor the story firmly in my imagination.

I’ve been thinking about perspective since the flooding in May when I saw this blue heron. Normally, we only see these magnificent birds from below. I took this picture standing on the bridge looking from above. I had no idea they were this brilliant!

I love working on perspective and backstory, understanding aspects of story characters that I’ll never put in the told tale. What color does the big sister in The ghost with the one black eye have? Pink. Do listeners need to know this? No. If I told you every detail, you’d be bored long before the end of the story. It’s helpful to me in order to create characters that are fully formed in my imagination.

If I find myself losing interest in a story, I may change the image in my mind. I picture the family in The ghost as African-American. I’ll imagine the little girl in The Gunniwolf as Asian. Again, I don’t tell the audience how I’m seeing the story in my mind. They have their own pictures. Doing this freshens the story up.

When I teach kids about backstory, I tell them that I need to know everything about the story, that I should be able to answer any question they pose, without even thinking. Then they start slinging me questions!

And speaking of backstory, here’s the picture I took just before the one above.

A Galaxy of Giggles for next summer

How do you get an astronaut baby to sleep?

You rocket!

Baby is getting ready for our show A Galaxy of Giggles for next year’s Summer Reading Programs, which has the theme A Universe of Stories. Baby even has a jetpack!

Photo by Heather Harlan, Oct. 2018

It’s true. A couple of months ago, on my way to the Missouri Library Association performers showcase, I found myself at a Build-a-Bear shop in the mall. There I found the perfect pink jetpack, exactly the right size for my baby puppet. I ran to the car and got her so she could try it on. It fit! The pink even matched her leggings.

This is part of my process for creating a summer reading program. I think about what I already have that would fit the theme, I do research for new material, and I keep my eyes out for accessories for my puppets. For months now, I’ve been gathering space-related stories, songs, fingerplays and puppet hilarity. I’ve got a special puppet for the show and am working on possible voices and miscellany.

I also name the show and write a blurb. I keep it general enough that I can add ideas, but close to the prescribed theme. Here’s next year’s show description:

A Galaxy of Giggles

Hop on board this story shuttle for an out-of-this-world mix of stories, songs, stretches, puppets and general silliness with storyteller Priscilla Howe. Warning: there may be aliens!

Have suggestions? Let me know in the comments or by e-mail!

"What are the differences between writing and oral storytelling?"

This was a question a participant in a storytelling workshop asked the other night. My answer then was nowhere near complete, just as what I write here also will miss some salient points. Here's what occurs to me now:

Oral storytelling 

• Is an older artform than written.
• Does not require that the listener be literate.
• Requires teller and listener to be in the same place (hmm, unless it's on a recording, which places it closer to written).
• Is not in set form. The storyteller may change the story depending on the audience, circumstances, time allotted, mood of the audience, mood of the storyteller, venue. 
• May be more concise--too much detail can bog the experience down.
• The storytelling/story listening experience is usually shorter. Of course there are exceptions for cultures in which epics may last over days, or with serial stories.
• Depends on nonverbal as well as verbal communication--facial expression and body language, volume, pacing, attitude, etc.
• May use repetition and mnemonics to help the audience remember people, places and action.

Written storytelling

• Requires literacy. Even with a read-aloud, somebody is reading it. 
• Is usually experienced by the reader without the writer being present. The writer is unaware of the reaction of the reader.
• Is in set form in each edition (with some exceptions for online experiences).
• Requires the writer to show attitude, emotion, etc. using words.
• Have a wider range of length, from flash fiction to multivolume sagas. 
• The reader may flip the pages back to remind herself of something that happened earlier. 

Of course, a good story is a good story. One artform is not better than the other. Oral storytelling can enhance writing and writing can enhance oral storytelling--I often write about the stories I tell, in order to understand them.

What did I miss? 

Advice on telling jump tales

When I tell stories to older kids, I often start with a jump tale. You know, the kind of story where there is a sudden bit that makes the listeners jump. Afterwards, the kids usually turn to each other to laugh and talk about the jump. In order to bring them back to a place where they can listen, I give advice on how to tell these stories. Here's a clip from a show at a school in Quito, Ecuador last month, thanks to videographer Sandro Rota.

Storytelling as a respite

Storytelling is my profession, my passion, my vocation. It is also my respite from cares of the world. 

You may have heard about "the healing power of storytelling." By this, people usually mean that the listeners are healed. I know that stories can be healing but--and this is vital to understand--I am not in charge of this. I can choose stories with powerful themes to tell at times when they may be needed, but it would be sheer hubris to say that I heal others with my stories.

At the same time, telling stories is a way I find solace in times of sorrow. Sometimes it is the story itself that helps me, sometimes just the act of telling stories; sometimes it is eliciting laughter or contemplation in the listeners that brings me to an easier place.

When I'm feeling low during slow seasons, I invite myself to a preschool or two to tell stories. It works like a charm.

When my father died ten years ago, I was performing in Belgium. At the moment he died, I was telling one of his favorite stories, "The Twist-Mouth Family". I often tell that story in his memory now. 

What stories have you told that offer respite? What stories have you heard that bring you solace?

Stories for grownups and older kids

The first time I told stories to adults in a performance in 1989, I was wearing silk parachute pants. I was nervous. My knees shook and my trousers shimmied. My palms were sweaty. Still, I kept the story strong in my mind and in my voice. The story I told then is one I still tell.

I grew to love performing for grownups. I mix it up, telling personal stories (often personal fiction), folktales and stories from books. My puppets stay home. I seek to connect emotionally, of course, but also to surprise the listeners, open a door to other points of view, offer shelter. I hope to delight. Often, listeners are surprised at how much they enjoy stories.

I gave a house concert not long after 9/11. One of the audience members said, "Thank you. For two hours, I wasn't thinking about world events." Often adults take stories in without showing emotion. For many performances, I thought one of my regular listeners was bored because of the way she sat, face static and arms crossed. At the end, she would come up to say, "That was great!" I now watch for this listening stillness. If the listeners are fidgeting, I consider why I'm not connecting. Maybe my story needs tightening, maybe I have left out a crucial piece of information that seemed obvious to me, maybe there's a problem with the venue.

With the advent of storytelling events such as the Moth, the general public is getting used to hearing stories for adults, specifically personal stories. Some of these are excellent, some are deadly therapy on stage. The best take a personal event and make it universal. To those who have just discovered personal storytelling, it's new. To the rest of us, it's as old as the hills.

On Tuesday, Valentine's Day 2/14/17), I'll tell true, slightly true and absolutely false stories to grownups, in a performance called "And they lived happily ever after...Or did they?" here in Lawrence, Kansas at the Union Pacific Depot at 8:00 p.m. Admission is a love offering,of course (passing the hat). Come see what I mean by stories for grownups.

Tips on telling funny-scary campfire stories (repost from 2009)

I've been transferring posts from 2012 to 2015 to this blog, as I upgrade my website. In the process, I've dipped into my old blogspot site, Storytelling Notes. I began blogging in 2004 and had some prolific years. In 2009, for example, I wrote 71 posts and in 2008, I wrote 163. Holy cow! I'm going to have to up my game.

Here's one from 2009, with updated photo and video. 

Night has fallen. The campfire flickers and pops, coals glow, listeners creep closer to the fire and the storyteller. It’s time for scary stories. But wait…some of the listeners are too small for the stories of La Llorona or hookman. It’s time for a funny-scary campfire story, just enough for shivers, not enough for nightmares. As many of you know, I’m best known for telling The Ghost With the One Black Eye, and many other classic funny-scary campfire stories. Here are a few tips for effective campfire storytelling for the youngest listeners.

1. Notice the body language of the listeners as you introduce the story. Suggest that the smallest children sit with an older sibling or adult. Some small children like very scary stories, but it’s kinder to the adults who have to be with the child later on to tell gentler stories to young children. 

2. Let the listeners know right away that this will be a funny-scary story, not a scary-scary story. 

3. Choose a story with a joke ending. You can find a few of these in Alvin Schwartz’ Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark series, in Simon Bronner’s American Children’s Folklore, or ask a ten-year-old who has been to camp. 

4. Err on the side of goofy characters, not scary, for young listeners. Build in a hand movement or repetitive phrase so the audience can join in. 

5. Sometimes even a funny story can scare a small child. Reassure the individual child that it will all be fine in the end.

6. For a little shiver, pause just before the punchline. This builds suspense and creates an even bigger laugh at the funny ending.

7. Don’t be surprised if children say “That wasn’t scary!” at the end. This is most likely not a true critique, just an observation--and sometimes a way a slightly scared child has of finding courage.

Once the little ones have gone off to bed, and you’re sure that those who are still around the fire can handle it, if you have time and inclination, then tell the truly scary stories.

Telling the real story

I'm reading a great collection of essays by Ann Patchett called This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage. In the essay "Fact vs. Fiction," she says this:

“Who makes things up? Who tells the real story? We all turn our lives into stories. It is a defining characteristic of our species. We retell our experiences. We quickly learn what parts are interesting to our listeners and which parts lag, and we shape our narratives accordingly. It doesn’t mean that we aren’t telling the truth; we’ve simply learned which parts to leave out. Every time we tell the story again, we don’t go back to the original event and start from scratch, we go back to the last time we told the story. It’s the story we shape and improve on, we don’t change what happened. ”

— Ann Patchett at The Miami University of Ohio Convocation Address of 2005

Last week I attended and told at the Lawrence Story Slam. This is a Moth-style storytelling event, where people tell true stories, up to 8 minutes long. The day before, I decided to tell the emotionally risky story of the good beginning and bad ending of my last relationship. My ex-boyfriend no longer lives in the area, so I wasn't worried about his reaction, though at the same time, I left out identifiers such as his name and profession. 

I was aware of the tightrope I was walking in telling about this, wanting to tell  a story that resonated deeply with myself and with the listeners, to be honest about the difficulties I'd experienced, but not wanting to do therapy on stage. I don't want the audience to feel as if they have to take care of me. I hope I succeeded.

It was good to tell this one. It's a story I'll keep working on. As Ann Patchett says above, we shape and improve upon the story, we don't change what happened.

This picture is from a Story Slam in Kansas City a few years ago. 

Blagolazh, the Bulgarian joketelling and storytelling competition

I did it! I performed in the Blagolazh, the storytelling and joketelling competition in Gabrovo, home of the House of Humor and Satire. In Bulgarian. Even before I began looking into coming to Bulgaria on a Fulbright grant, I dreamt of attending this event, part of the Biennial of Humor. The word "blagolazh" means "sweet lie," but it's different from US liars contests, where contestants invent the most outlandish stories. The rule was that the stories had to be folktales, nothing made up by the contestants. There were two themes this year: health and work, or the opposite of these (smoking, drinking, laziness).

I first visited this wonderful museum in 1984. Outside the museum is a statue of Clever Peter, one of the Bulgarian tricksters.

I submitted my application to the Blagolazh a couple of months ago, appending two stories from my repertoire that I intended to tell. I wrote out my versions in Bulgarian and then my friend Tzveta kindly made them grammatically correct. Since March, I've been working on these stories. In April, I was accepted as one of the tellers. 

I arrived on Saturday. This was a busy day in town. The Biennial of Humor had begun with the juried art show of cartoons, photographs, engravings, etc. That evening there was an enormous carnival (look for a blog post soon with carnival pictures). With the other guests, I watched the hour and a half parade from reserved seats, then went back to the hotel for a reception with the mayor. She had been in the parade dressed as Marilyn Monroe. Last year she was Scarlett O'Hara. It was a crowded reception, so I only caught a glimpse of the mayor.

We were due at the museum at 8:30 a.m., so I said goodnight to my dinner companions early. In the morning, the museum was shimmering with excitement. First, children from Mickey Mouse Kindergarten (Мики Маус) performed for us, singing and dancing in traditional dress. I've noticed that this is a trend at many Bulgarian events. 

Then there was the children's Blagolazh. The kids, age 4 to 12 with a couple of adult helpers, sat at big tables with microphones, like a press conference. They each told a story or a joke, all were encouraged by the audience. May they continue to tell stories! 

After the jury awarded the prizes to the children, it was time for the grownups. After we took our seats at the tables, we introduced ourselves and the first round began. Some stories or jokes were told in dialect, some in standard Bulgarian. I understood a lot, but not all. I told a story about Nasrudin Hodja at the public baths to begin. Though the Hodja is the Turkish trickster, the Ottoman Empire extended into Bulgaria for 500 years, so his stories are here as well. I thought we were going to tell just one story and the jury would make a decision about the next round, but no, the jury invited us all to tell another short one. Uh-oh. I had two stories prepared in Bulgarian. Fortunately, my friend Roman the harmonica player had told me a short Clever Peter story on Friday. I silently blessed him and told that story. 

While the jury deliberated, some of the past winners told stories and jokes. They're no longer eligible to compete but came along for the fun. 

To my surprise, I made it to the second round. I told the second Nasrudin Hodja story I had prepared. We were asked for another, so I told a joke. I'm still not certain that it translated, but everybody laughed. 

I thought we were going to have to do another story. In English, it would have been a snap. I've got a zillion stories in my head. In Bulgarian, it's a challenge. I was searching for one in my rattled brain and decided to explain that I didn't have another Bulgarian one but did have one from Vermont. The jury decided not to ask for another. Whew! While they went out of the hall to deliberate, we heard more from the past champions.

The grand winner was a young man, the youngest by far in the group, Orlin Kisyov (I think I was the second youngest, and I'm 53). It's nice to have a new generation coming along! This is one reason it's important to have the children's Blagolazh.

Here's Orlin, with the director of the House of Humor and Satire, Tatiana Tsankova:

And a view of the older kids at the table.

Many of the contestants, including prize winner Snezhanka Doncheva, were in traditional Bulgarian dress. I wish we'd had a picture all together. 

And I won the prize for "Vivid Presentation by a Foreigner." 

Not only did the House of Humor give us all a collection of stories from the 2013 Blagolazh, but they gave me quite a few books of stories and jokes. I was invited to visit the archives, which I did on Monday after the Blagolazh. I'm constantly bowled over by the generosity of Bulgarians, and the staff and direction at the House of Humor and Satire were no exceptions to this. Huge thanks especially to Veneta Georgieva-Kozareva and to the director, Tatiana Tsankova.

Apart from the prize of being included in this incredible event and hearing stories and jokes, I was given a Gabrovo clock. Look closely at this picture. Can you tell what time it is? Look below the Fulbright disclaimer to find out! 

My goals going into this event were to have fun and not to embarrass myself. I succeeded!

Disclaimer: This is not an official Fulbright Program publication. The views expressed here are entirely my own and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations. 

The time on the clock is 9:48. The hands run backwards. I think this could be used as one of those brain training exercises, like using the non-dominant hand. Definitely not the clock to look at when I'm in a hurry and need to know the time!

Happy October!

I promised more pictures of Bulgaria in this post, but those will have to wait until I go back for the Fulbright in February. I'm currently preparing for four weeks of storytelling to kids who are learning English in Colombia. Look for pictures from that South American tour in the next posts.

Yesterday I had a fantastic time in Clay Center and Wakefield, KS doing three performances for elementary school students. The kids in the first two schools had never seen me, but the fourth and fifth graders (9-10 year olds) remembered me from three years ago. No, not true. They didn't necessarily remember me, but when I pulled Trixie out of the bag, they knew her, and when I reminded them of The Ghost with the One Black Eye, they cheered. If there is one story for which I'm known, this is it. It works all year, not just in October, but as long as we're in the lead-up to Halloween, here it is, yet again.

And if you're interested in how to tell funny-scary campfire tales, check out this blog post from 2009 (on my old blog). 

Happy October!

Five top tips for beginning storytellers

Doesn't Frankie look wise? 

Today I answered an e-mail from a fairly new storyteller, asking for advice. It occurred to me to post my top five tips for beginners. I've posted these in other forms in the past, but never as succinctly. 

• Only tell stories you like. To me, that's the one big rule. All the rest are just suggestions.
• Tell, tell, tell. You'll learn and improve the more you do it. As storyteller Papa Joe says, "If you want to be a storyteller, tell stories. If you want to be a better storyteller, tell more stories."
• Listen, listen, listen. Go hear as many storytellers as you can, so you can get an idea of which styles you like and which you don't. 
• Find your own voice. In the beginning, we all imitate other tellers, but as you mature, your best work will be in your voice, not an imitation.
• In the beginning especially, don't be too concerned about building a large repertoire. It's better to learn one story a year than to have fifty half-baked stories.

Oh, wait, there's one more...Have fun!  

Storytelling keynote speeches

I couldn't help myself—I had to throw in this visual pun. And no, that's not really the key to the city of Varna, Bulgaria, just a corkscrew made to look like a key. 

From time to time, I'm invited to give keynote speeches. What is key in a keynote? Here are a few things off the top of my head: knowing what the organization stands for, what the organizers want, and how storytelling fits in, finding points of connection with the listeners, being relaxed so the audience can listen easily, remaining both friendly and professional, staying within the time frame, choosing appropriate stories, and serving the whole experience up with a generous dollop of good humor. Hmm, this list applies to performances in general.

In the past year, I've given three keynotes. Because I tailor each keynote to the group in front of me, these were three very different presentations:

A keynote for early childhood educators was a mixture of why and how to tell stories and use puppets with young children, along with story stretches thrown in for good measure. I had ninety minutes to bring the listeners into the world of story and puppets. This was a keynote/workshop, with lots of audience participation.

In a talk for the Kansas Museums Association I encouraged museum curators to connect with their visitors through stories. I told some of my polished performance pieces as well as short snippets about story-filled museum visits.

My keynote for The Whole Person, an organization that helps people with disabilities live independently and fully, was a thank-you for volunteers. My goal was to remind the audience that we connect through our stories. Between my own stories I coaxed the audience into telling stories to each other. After suggesting that they continue to tell their stories after the talk, I then finished with a funny story. 

Each of these keynotes had its own flavor, but the main dish was story.

Looking for an interesting, fun and engaging keynote? Shoot me an e-mail! 

Bringing old stories to light

[This blog post was first published on the National Storytelling Network blog in May 2014]

What is that? See it, down there, under ages of dust and grime, just a glint of gold? Pick it up, use your shirttail to wipe it off. Wow! What a marvel! Needs a bit of cleaning, polishing, maybe a small repair or two, but it’s all there, a new story from the depths of tradition.

I’ve found great satisfaction in bringing old stories to light, specifically (though not limited to) long-form traditional stories. I started with Tristan and Iseult, not a terribly obscure story but one that is rarely told. In a remainder bin at a bookstore, I’d found a paperback edition by Joseph Bédier. One day while casting about in my office for a new story to tell, I picked it up and read it in one gulp.

Despite an archaic quality to the written language, I fell in love with this epic tale of good luck, bad choices, giants, dragons, fools, betrayal and of course, Romance. Call me fickle, but I later fell in love with another Medieval tale, Queen Berta and King Pippin, and now have a dalliance with Amleth, better known to audiences since the 1590s as Hamlet.

Falling in love with the story, though, is only the first step. From there, we have to go farther, to create a story worth telling and worth hearing. Long-form traditional stories, generally at least an hour long and sometimes much longer, can be a rewarding challenge.

How do you tackle a long traditional story? What are the cultural considerations? How do you craft the language for modern audiences without jarring them or boring them? What do you do with conflicting versions? How do you practice the story? How do you break the work into manageable bits? How do you find the stamina for the performance? Where are the venues for stories like this? Will people really listen? What works? Those are questions we’ll consider in my workshop this summer at the National Storytelling Network Conference in Phoenix, Bringing Old Tales to Light: Long-Form Traditional Stories.

Many years ago, Liz Warren, Olga Loya and I started Going Deep, the long traditional storytelling retreat, because we wanted to tell long-form stories and play with the questions they raise. We found many storytellers who yearned to tell and hear this kind of deep story, but didn’t know where to start. We found storytellers who already tell long traditional tales and wanted a place to perform them and to talk about the process. We can’t cram an entire retreat into a workshop session, but we can at least catch a glimpse of that gold under the dust and grime. Hope to see you in Arizona!

Storytelling house concerts

Picture this: seventeen or eighteen grownups and older kids sitting comfortably in a living room, some on sofas, some in armchairs, some on kitchen chairs, a few relaxing on cushions on the floor, all listening to stories, then chatting about their own stories or about how the art of storytelling is not lost. A dog or two snore nearby. Every now and then somebody gets up quietly to graze at the table of goodies in the kitchen or to fill a glass. Maybe there's a break in the stories for snacks or maybe the performance runs for an hour or even more with no break. Maybe there are two or three storytellers tag-teaming. When the guests leave, they linger at the door to talk more about the evening and the connections that were made. They ask to be kept on the list for the next house concert.

That's the flavor of a storytelling house concert, in my experience. 

Here are some other considerations when planning a house concert, whether you're the storyteller or the host.

• Find a place for the storyteller to stand or sit where the sight lines are best.
• If guests have hearing issues, use a sound system. I know, it's a living room, but of course you want everyone to be able to hear.
• Invite more guests than you think will come, at least the first time, as some adults think they might not like storytelling. The second time, they are sure they do like storytelling and they talk it up everywhere. 
• Be clear in the invitations about the age range of listeners (that is, if young kids are welcome).
• Send out invitations about three weeks in advance, with a reminder the week before. Facebook works well for invitations.
• If the storyteller is performing near the front door, provide an alternate entry for guests who arrive late. At my house, I ran Christmas lights from the front door to the back, with a sign requesting late-comers to follow the lights, in order to avoid interruptions.
• If the house concert is really a garden concert or a campfire concert, discuss this with the storyteller. 
• Let guests know in advance if they will be expected to pay or contribute in some way. You may have a set fee, you may pass the hat, or the program might be free. The performer and host will arrange this in advance.
• Potluck? Perhaps. Unless the house concert is at my own house, I don't provide the food or drinks, just the stories. One good friend had the house concert catered. Yum!
• Have fun.

I love performing at house concerts! If you're in the Kansas City area and would like to host one, let me know. If you're a storyteller who gives house concerts, feel free to leave your tips in the comments section.