Roadblock #3: Echo Chambers

Let’s continue the “10 Roadblocks to Your Success as Professional Teller” series. Today I am writing about number 3: You are talking to the same people over and over again who are talking about the same subjects over and over again.

In looking through my latest copy of Storytelling Magazine (no online options as it is a printed magazine you can get only as a membership benefit or paying the $7.50 each cover price), I was scanning all the advertisements for storytelling festivals. Going from festival ad to festival ad, you’ll see mostly the same featured faces. Miss a storyteller this year at your festival? Fear not, because they’ll be back in two to three years.

Very frequently, we are hearing the same voices. Most are talented. But they are the same voices. The same sounds reverberating at our audiences. It is an echo of the echo of previous events.

Storytelling, festivals and otherwise, suffers a bit from an “echo chamber” effect. To help explain what I mean, I looked for a good definition online. I found one in Wikipedia, the best source never to be believed: Metaphorically, the term echo chamber can refer to any situation in which information, ideas or beliefs are amplified or reinforced by transmission inside an ‘enclosed’ space.

There are a number of conversations going on about storytelling, but they are behind closed, protected doors. Tim Ereneta writes much more eloquently about these things than I do. Some of the most common of these groups are the Storytell listserv, the new professionalstoryteller.ning.com and Storytelling Magazine. There is the Festival circuit as mentioned above. On the local level, you probably have a guild you participate in. I am part of all these lists and groups.

In most of these online groups, there are few fresh new discussions. Safe topics and queries get rehashed. There is often a fine sense of community once you find your way past the virtual gate, once you learn the rules. Community is valuable, but does it spread the word and power of storytelling? Mutual admiration is good and sometimes deserved, but there is little real critique of the work of storytellers both near and far. Part of this gentleness is due to the usually generous nature of we middle-aged storytellers. However, the other part is in fear. “If I make a direct statement, someone might do the same thing about my work.”

For example, in trying to develop a recognized Storyteller.net award system for storytelling recordings, the biggest problem was trying to find a panel to judge submissions. I am unwilling to be a panel of one like other award programs use. I could not gather a panel as not one storyteller wanted to be identified as part of the group that passed opinion on another storyteller.

First: “Your CD is great!
Second: “YOUR CD is great!”
First: “Oh, thank you. Your CD is great.”
Second: “Thank you, your CD is great too.”
First: “Oh, really? Yes, your CD is really great.”
And on and on and on, echoing down the line.

As I listen to other tellers describe things to me directly, it appears to me that many storytelling guilds in the U.S. are simply social clubs. There is much patting on the back, much nurturing, much caring community. Guest speakers are always other storytellers who do little to rock the boat or bring in fresh ideas. After the meeting, it is lunch and snacks. “I will say nice things about your storytelling so you’ll say nice things about mine.”

In these enclosed spaces, in these echo chambers, storytelling withers.

Generally, I do not think any of these groups or membership in them are a problem. What is the problem is our collective lack of outreach to the world. What is the problem is our fear of critique. In testing our new “Outside In” coaching method, the biggest challenge is having the coaching group have a non-apology-wrapped opinion about the work of another teller.

I suggest that we open the doors and windows, let the echoes out and begin to hear new voices or old voices in new ways.

New Conversations In Our Guilds
Invite guest speakers from outside of your storytelling group and indeed from outside of the storytelling artform. Stop separating the “youth tellers” from the adult tellers, throw them all into the same room at the same time. Invite such people as accountants, yoga teachers, marketing consultants, musicians, theater critics, painters and others to attend. Learn from them. Maybe you will even end up teaching them.

Find new ways in your guild to coach each other, being fresh, supportive, honest and challenging. Make this article a subject of your next meeting. Hash it out, own what’s real, congratulate yourselves if these thoughts do not apply to your group. Try something new if your guild has become an echo chamber of warm-fuzzy thoughts.

New Conversations In Our Festivals
Fight to eliminate the “regional teller” or “new voices” labels. Sure, bring in one of the circuit-riding hired lips. Have fun as most are lively, talented folks. Then, fill the rest of the event with your own local talent, talent you are growing in your freshly-refocused guild meetings. Remember the theater critic from the paragraph above? Invite them to the festival and hope they write about you or talk about you in their newspapers, TV and radio programming.

By the way, the idea that “if we do not book XYZ teller, then we won’t have an audience” is letting fear dictate your festival or event roster. Remember, when you started, no one knew who XYZ was. And if XYZ teller joined a monastery tomorrow, took a vow of silence and never spoke into the echo chamber again, would you shut down your festival?

New Ways to Communicate In Our Online Presences
Keep participating in the closed groups if it helps you. And, for every few postings you have in these groups, post something on your open, public Blog that the general public can read, see, agree or disagree with and learn from. Be a visible storyteller. Develop a thick skin and put yourself, and your opinions, out there. Develop a professional “social network” right out in public, where young people and others can see we are active, real and engaged. Post your videos and stories for all to see and hear.

We have lots of “niceness” echoing in storytelling. Why not knock down some walls and let’s have some “freshness” resounding as well?

(The illustration at the top of this article was done by www.gapingvoid.com. Warning: don't go there unless you can handle adult language and directness about marketing.)
The official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.

Crazy Jack

In my research today, I just found another version of Lazy Jack. Let me share it with you:

"Now Jack," said his Momma, "you just let me know what the farmer pays you with next time and I will you how you should carry it home."

And so Jack, after having completed his workaday in the hot southwest sun, asked the farmer for his wages.

"Jack, I want to pay you with this cat. You to take this little cat home and give it a place to stay. He'll hunt mice and be nice to pet. Take care of him now. Here's a little box to carry him home in. And you can keep the box."

"Well, no thank you, Mr. Farmer. That box sounds like a good idea and makes sense to me, but Momma said I had to ask her what to do. She has more wisdom than me. I'll come right back after she gives me her answer."

As Jack approached his home, Momma saw him and ran screaming out to him. "Jack, why don't you have any wages? You know how bad we need them."

"Well, Momma, I can bring the kitty in that little twenty-inch box the farmer had for me, but you said to check with you first. So, here I am. Momma, what should I do to get that kitty home?"

"Good boy," said Jack's Momma, "you were so smart to seek me out. Now, listen up. You ask the farmer for a five-foot-five length of rope as one kitty is not enough wages. Then, put the kitty in the box and wrap the rope around the box."

"Isn't that a lot of work, Momma, for a kitty?" asked Jack.

"Hush, young one. Listen to me. Take the kitty-filled box, with the rope, and drag it down the dry river bed back to our house," said Momma with an air of authority.

Jack thought about that river. It had once been dry, back when Momma was young. All the townsfolk did use that river bed for all kinds of good things. But now, the river was wet, wild and hard to cross. The rules about river use were very different now with all that water just flowing freely and fast.

"Momma, the river is full of water and the cat will drown, or at least tear me up something fierce when I drag it in the water. Momma, are you sure that's what you want?"

His Momma was angry. "Jack, are you back talking me? That's the second time this month I had to tell you to just ignore them rumors about there being water in the river. Dragging things down the riverbed is the way we have always done things. Jack, hush your rumor-mongering mouth! Go get that cat!"

And with that, Jack's Momma went into their little house, closed the door and wouldn't let Jack say another single word.

So, Jack dutifully dragged that kitty down the river, getting all scratched and bitten along the way. But at least now, Momma had a five-foot-five length of rope. She used that rope to hang up a sign that read, "Jack is a Bad Boy for Spreading Rumors."

And Jack wasn't sure if he really wanted to bring home his next day's wage.

And here is one more little story. When Jack got the kitty home, he named it "Pyxidis." When he told his Momma that this was the Latin word for "box," she grew very angry. She told him to just call the animal "kitty" and would never let Jack name another animal again without her approval.

The official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.

RoadBlock #10: Too Many Personal Stories

In a previous posting, I made a list of ten “Roadblocks to Your Success” for the professional storyteller. With this article, I am starting to explore those statements more in depth.

I wrote that number ten was: “Especially for U.S. and Canadian tellers, you are telling too many disconnected and without-context personal stories.”

I believe that when we say “storyteller,” the general public usually thinks of either a children’s entertainer or a stand-up comedian.

So, what does the average stand-up comedian do? They tell stories about the people they know, the situations they have been in. Most of them are funny, some of them a little touching. A comedian interacts with the audience, without the fourth wall, talking right to them and sometimes using what the audience says as part of the things the comedian says on stage. Sometimes they use “naughty words” that offend anyone over 21 but those words are part of the culture the comedian comes from and it is to that culture they want to speak. Maybe when the comedian uses those words, someone from outside that culture will gain knowledge about another way of thinking.

Storytellers are quick to point out that we’re not stand-up comedians.

So, what does the average storyteller do? They tell stories about the people they know, the situations they have been in. Most of them are funny, some of them a little touching. A storyteller interacts with the audience, without the fourth wall, talking right to them and sometimes using what the audience says as part of the things the storyteller says on stage. Sometimes they make cultural references that are lost on anyone under 21 but those references are part of the culture the teller comes from and it is to that culture they want to speak. Maybe when the storyteller uses those references, someone from outside that culture will gain knowledge about another way of thinking.

Oops. Perhaps those two careers are not so different. When I speak in some “Storytelling 101" classes at community colleges, every student in those rooms want to be a comedian, so they take the storyteller class. They hope I can teach them how to “make it” as a comedian. Why? For them, the choice between storyteller and comedian is this: one pays better than the other and will get you famous while the other will give you warm fuzzy feelings and get you booked at birthday parties for children. We have so much work to do in educating people about our craft. To do so, we must be categorically different than other performing arts. At the moment, we are not.

What’s wrong with telling personal tales?

In the U.S. in particular, too many professional storytellers are telling too many personal tales and further blurring the line between our art form and the work of comedians. If storytelling continues on this path of telling personal tales over the classic tales of myth, legend, tall tale and fairy tales (aka world tales), we are going to see our art form continue to slide off the radar. If storytelling and comedy were to arm wrestle right now, they would appear evenly matched to the storytelling community. But, an audience-centered art form is not about what we want or what we see. Due to the way the world moves, comedy is going to win that arm-wrestling match and be the most-listened to voice while deep, rich world-tale storytelling will go and join the broom makers at the “Old Tyme Country Renaissance Faire.”

Why the over abundance of personal tales? From my couple of decades experience, I see several reasons:

First, some storytellers are fearful or just don’t want to work hard on their stories. Perhaps they are simply uneducated in how to adapt a world tale. So, they are abandoning classic world tales because they are afraid of violating someone else’s copyright. And so they should be wary. But, if you are doing the work of storytelling and building your own versions of world tales, then you have nothing be worried about. Are you doing the work of storytelling or are you echoing the style and choices of storytellers you have seen?

Second, personal tales do take some work to dredge up but overall are easy to tell. I know this will cause some to sputter, but personal stories are easier to tell as the audience has no benchmark against your experiences. If you tell “Beauty and the Beast,” that will elicit comparisons to other versions. That is scary for some tellers. However, who can benchmark your story of “Uncle Ted and the Big Green Snake?” I think the proliferation of storytellers who have invented family members and stories who then use them as the basis for their presentations speaks to the general ease of developing personal tales and the ease of telling them to modern audiences.

Third, some storytellers are seeking therapy in telling personal tales. I’ve been in discussions where storytellers talk about “clearing out their emotions” through personal tales. Sounds great for therapy or for support groups and visits to your shrink, but it’s wrong to do that to your general audiences or otherwise force support-group status on the unsuspecting.

Should we tell personal tales?

Yes, we should. There is a place for personal tales. An occasional tale in the midst of other world tales is a good break and can create an affinity between audience and teller. It is also possible to interweave personal and world tales in the same telling. This creates the same stand-up sense that audiences flock to but also gives the audience an exposure to the greater gifts of the story and storyteller. Some personal tales are for used for historical purposes and education. Again another valid use in the correct setting. What better way is there to teach the culture of the “old southwest” than a family story passed down from storyteller to audience?

So, I suggest the following for the working storyteller:

Research, learn to tell and use at least one world tale for every personal tale you develop.

Tell your world tales to an audience that is not composed of children locked into a school classroom, a public library or to an audience of just your storytelling groupies. So, find some 19-30 year olds and start telling.

Develop one interlocking world tale and personal story and tell those stories as a singular experience. I am not talking here about framing: “My Uncle Ted once was bitten by a snake so that is why I am telling you now about the story of the Snake Leaves.” Go beyond framing and interweave the stories. You’ll learn more about both stories in the process.

The official blog for K. Sean Buvala, storyteller and storytelling coach.