Story games, songs, stretches and silliness

So there you are, with five minutes to spend and a few (or a lot) of antsy kids to spend them with. What do you do? Try a game, a song, a stretch or some kind of silliness. I’ve been collecting these gems for longer than I have been a storyteller.

One story game is the circular story A dark and stormy night. Here’s the version I grew up with:

It was a dark and stormy night.

A band of robbers was sitting around the campfire.

At length, one got up and said, “Chief, tell us a story.”

Chief got up, lit his pipe, and began,

“It was a dark and stormy night…”

We would tell this story in every way we could think of: angry, silly, like a baby, like a cow, like a chicken, in a French accent, like a chicken with a French accent, and so forth. Eventually all the grownups would leave the room. We still do it; now the in-laws leave.

Another game we played was called “Mailbag”. One person would start a story, and after a few sentences (or sometimes, maddeningly, much more), he or she would say, “mailbag!” as the cue for the next person to take over. The cue word could be anything—in the way of children, we never questioned why that was the one we used. Now sometimes I teach an expanded version of the game I call “Magic Box”, which includes trinkets as prompts.

Magic Box is a fun pass-around story game, with endless variations

I’m still adding to my repertoire of these fillers, some of which teach story structure along the way. I search scout websites, old books of children’s songs, and friends’ memories. I’ve just added the melodramatic song Señor Don Gato to my weekday storytimes, to good effect.

I also love teaching story games, songs and stretches. I’ve set up a couple of Zoom workshops in December, if you’d like to learn some of my favorites. Feel free to bring some to share, too!

Storytelling for parents and grandparents

I couldn’t resist putting up this picture of my mother, my grandmother and my aunt, taken around 1926.

Telling stories in your family can be deeply satisfying, something the children remember for their entire lives. Find a quiet time, get cozy and settle in for stories. Remember, it’s about strengthening our connections, our relationships. Here are some good times to tell stories:

• Bedtime, of course,

• On long car rides,

• While waiting in a doctor’s office,

• Around the campfire,

• And, especially for distant grandparents, on Zoom.

  
  Consider telling personal stories, folktales, made up stories, true tales from history and stories from books. Don’t forget about nursery rhymes, campfire stories, camp songs, riddles, knee-dandles and fingerplays. What were your favorite childhood stories? Try these out. If you don’t remember them, check out collections of folktales in the public library, in 398.2 in the Dewey decimal system.

If you make up stories to tell every night at bedtime, you might choose a main character who will be part of all the stories. Or use your own child as the main character. Remember that every story needs conflict, even if it’s only a mild one. Watch the children as you tell, to gauge what works and what doesn’t. It’s fun to pass a story back and forth, too. It’s never too early or too late to learn to tell stories.

Some children love hearing about when their parents or grandparents were little. It seems so unlikely to them! They especially like the stories of childhood naughtiness. You can also pass along valuable family history and culture this way. Family photos are good springboards for these stories.

Here are a few guidelines for telling stories to children, considering stages of child development:

Age 0-2: Children enjoy peekaboo, patty cake, nursery rhymes, fingerplays. Use rhyme and rhythm.
Age 2-3: Still use fingerplays, rhyme and rhythm, lots of repetition. Simple, simple stories, 5 minutes or less. When they’re done listening, they’re done.
Age 4-5: Starting to differentiate from others, to understand others’ feelings. Continue repetition, rhyme, rhythm. Go a little longer. Silliness works well. Tales about families.
Age 6-7: More aware of others, of emotions, getting an idea of morality. Better at predicting where the story goes.
Age 8-10: Able to figure out tricky stories, curious about other countries and the natural world. Now understand irony and sarcasm. May be less engaged by repetition.
Age 11-13: Go for the gore to begin with. Tell stories you would tell to adults (though not sexually explicit stories) to these kids. They can take it.

Here are a few good books to get you started:
Telling your own stories by Donald Davis. In this great little book, Davis’ story prompts draw out your personal stories.

The Parents’ Guide to Storytelling by Margaret Read MacDonald. Also look for other collections by this author-librarian-storyteller, such as Twenty Tellable Tales and The Storyteller's Start-up Book.

Awakening the Hidden Storyteller: How to Build a Storytelling Tradition in Your Family by Robin Moore.

The Grammar of Fantasy: an Introduction to the Art of Inventing Stories by Gianni Rodari, translated by Jack Zipes. This is a quirky, funny book, full of ideas on how to play with stories in unusual ways.

If you want to augment your own storytelling, I have a subscription service to bedtime stories on Patreon—feel free to check out the two free stories to hear how I tell a short story with a little winding-down chat. Grandparents can subscribe and then give the password to their children or grandchildren.

Questions or suggestions? Leave them in the comments!

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.

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.

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.

Staying healthy on the road

I love performance tours. I am deeply thankful to do this work and for the privilege of traveling to do it (thanks, DreamOn Productions!). I'm writing from Costa Rica, where I'm telling stories for a week. Last week I was performing in Ecuador. (I promise to post pictures soon.)

Alas, I have a headcold. I work hard to stay healthy, especially on international tours, but sometimes I succumb to germs. 

A couple of weeks before I leave for an overseas trip, I start taking echinacea and goldenseal, to boost my immune system. I also take Vitamin D. I pack these, along with multivitamins, ibuprofen, Pepto-Bismol, anti-diarrheal pills, night-time and day-time cold medicine, sinus rinse packs and my neti pot, bandaids, antibiotic ointment, tweezers, Tiger balm and zinc lozenges. 

On top of this pharmacopeia, I drink lots of water. Lots of water. This is the best way to keep my voice in shape, along with vocal warm-up exercises before performances. If I feel throat irritation, I buy lozenges at local pharmacies and health food stores. I'm partial to those made with propolis and honey. I also buy ginger, lemon and honey, which I simmer to make a soothing drink. It's good hot or cold. I find out if the country I'm going to has safe water. If not, I drink bottled or boiled water only. Yes, I have Pepto-bismol, but if I'm careful, I may not need it. 

I try to wash my hands frequently. I tend to forget hand sanitizer, maybe because I don't like the way it feels. Maybe if I'd used it, I wouldn't have gotten this particular cold. Then again, it wouldn't have stopped the person sneezing and coughing on me on the airplane on the way to Costa Rica.

At the first sign of a cold, I take zinc lozenges. Sometimes they can keep a cold at bay. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Warning: don't take them on an empty stomach. They can make you feel nauseous. I do that revolting sinus rinse a couple of times a day so a simple cold doesn't turn into a sinus infection. I've been lucky not to lose my voice on these tours--the only thing you can do in that case is not talk. Yikes!

After a day of work, usually four performances, I take a nap. I like to get a walk in at some point. I also go to bed early--it's important to save my energy for the school sessions. 

Oh, yes, and that's sunscreen in the picture. In Ecuador especially the sun is strong. Sunscreen is essential. Wear it.

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.