Showing posts with label author. Show all posts
Showing posts with label author. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Meeting a Storyteller and Mentor



It is nice to know that Peggy Melanson and I both remember the moment when the light bulb went on for me the same way. I can still feel the excitement as I was listening to Peggy tell me the stories of the books she wanted to publish and I realized what a master storyteller she was.  Her first  public story performance knocked the socks off many people. She is one of my favorite storytellers. It is hard to pick favorites but a story about a crystal bowl from her  Buddha on The Bus©  collection is a tale that stuck with me and one of the first stories I heard.  Here she is a guest blogger.  I really hope  she comes out east and we get to hear her soon.  - Norah Dooley


Meeting a Storyteller and Mentor   

by Peggy Melanson


   I’ve discovered that quite a few people visualize “Storytelling” as a child sitting on a parent’s lap while Mom or Dad read stories from children’s books.  For a long time, I was one of these people.

            Until I met Norah Dooley -

Peggy Melanson
     While sitting in the waiting room of a new primary physician’s office, I noticed several large posters on the wall.  One particular poster caught my eye. It was a pastel watercolor painting of a lovely neighborhood with the title, “EverybodyBakes Bread, by Norah Dooley.  It was one of many children’s stories that the author had written. Looking closely at the poster, I noticed that she lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

     Since I lived in Somerville, the next town to Cambridge, I thought to look her up. At the time, I had no idea how brazen that idea was.

     When I arrived home, I called information and was surprised to find that Norah was listed.  Assuming that she would have a secretary, I planned to leave a message. I was very surprised when she answered the phone personally.

      I told her about noticing the poster and asked if she might advise me on how to get my brother’s Christmas Wishing Apple story published. I did not know that the process was very difficult.

     Many well-meaning non-writers say things like, “That’s a wonderful story, and you should get it published! Or, you should send that to Reader’s Digest.”  They have no idea what it entails.  Most people think all you have to do is call a publisher and they’ll rush to your door.

    I was astounded when she invited me to meet her for coffee at a local Cambridge coffee house.  We sat and talked for two hours.  It was wonderful to be with someone who understood my stories.

Love to mentor but really I just "connected" Peggy and she did the rest -NAD
 Suddenly Norah sat back in her chair and looked at me with a very serious expression and said, “My god, you are a storyteller.”  Visions of children on laps danced in my mind. “I responded, “What do you mean?”  Instead of explaining, she asked me what I was doing the following Tuesday evening. And, suggested we go to Foozles Book Store in Porter Square Cambridge to see Master Storyteller, Brother Blue. I was dubious about attending a children’s storytelling event. I was in for a very big surprise.

          When we arrived, I was astounded to see about twenty grownups and no kids in the bookstore. We got there early so that she could show me the process.  Brother Blue’s wife, Ruth Hill was in charge of the timing for people telling stories.  People wishing to tell a story, placed their name on a piece of paper that was placed in a basket. Names were randomly chosen and each teller had five minutes to tell any kind of story.  A featured teller was allowed thirty minutes at the end of the group performances.  When tellers reached about four minutes, Ruth would nod her head at the speakers to remind them they had only one minute left.  At five minutes, Ruth rang a ceramic bell to end the performance.  Later, I realized that those rules would be substantial in the timing of my stories, told and written.

     
                                                My First “Told” story

 I cannot find the exact words to describe that first experience.  “Stunned, mesmerized and enchanted to be in the presence of this wonderful couple.” Later I discovered that the group was (and still is) called, The League for New England Storytelling” L.A.N.E.S. I’m still a member today

        For some reason, I felt absolutely comfortable standing up to tell the true story, “Teenage Buddha.” As I will mention later, Brother Blue and Ruth made me feel that my story was the most important in the world.  The people that attended congratulated me.  And, Norah, kept saying, “I told you that you are a storyteller. “Now, do you know what I mean?”  It took a while for it to sink in.

         Soon after that evening, Foozles bookstore closed and “Storytelling Night” would be held for many years every Tuesday evening at Sherrill Hall Library at Harvard University.  I attended every event and it was wonderful getting to know other people with like minds. And, Norah still helps me with advise

        In early 2000, Robert Smyth, Publisher of Yellow Moon Press sent out a call for stories about Brother Blue and Ruth.  I was honored to have my story, “Seeds of the Universe,” chosen and it was published as, “Brother Blue-Golden Comet in 2001.

My first “Fantasy style” Story follows:

                                                Seeds of The Universe

   While driving alone, just before the rain, down a dark and winding road in Arlington, Massachusetts, a falling star caught my attention. Shooting across the heavens, it seemed to come straight at me.  A little bit frightened and filled with awe, I drove faster to get out of its path.  When I turned to look back, I saw a jagged burst of lightning pierce the night sky.  The brilliant flash of light streaked low and over the tall trees behind me. It was then, that I remembered who Brother Blue was and how we were connected.

         Pulling my car over to the side of the road, I wrote this story on odd bits of paper found in the car, while the rain pummeled the roof and the thunder and lightning crashed around me.

         It was a millennium ago while slumbering in my ancient soul that a golden comet streaking through the heavens awakened me. The splendid brilliance raced through earth’s atmosphere, weaving and dancing amidst a stand of trees.  As if searching, it moved and then suddenly struck a colossal tree, setting it ablaze. Glowing and split in half, though still attached at the roots, the tree thundered to the ground. Sparks from one half of the burning wood flew like fireflies, imbedding themselves within the tall timber of the surrounding forest.  Deep, deep, deep they burrowed, to slumber within the wood, waiting to be awakened when the time was right. Thus Brother Blue was born to seed the world with stories.

         Spiraling shafts of light from the other half of the felled tree sprang up and raced to spin protectively and embrace the trees that the sparks had entered.

         It was then that Ruth was released to preserve and shield Blue’s brilliant seeds. Born together out of the unity of the universe and brought to earth from the light of life, Brother Blue and Ruth prepared the world for their children - stories!

         Many years passed before fire was discovered and wood was used as its fuel.  As people came to sit around the fires, Blue’s sparkling stories awoke from within the pieces of burning timber. They began to snap and touch the cave dwellers who sat for warmth.  Slowly at first, with hesitancy and care, the act of sharing stories gave birth to other sparks that entered other people and stories spread throughout the centuries.

         My primordial soul came to life again, one day when a storyteller, Norah Dooley walked me into a cave of books where Ruth and Blue’s children lived.

         I saw my ancient Father and Mother and my brothers and sisters in all the pages made from the wood of those spark filled trees.

        Many people were there, drawn to Brother Blue’s light and Ruth’s glowing kindness because fireflies of memory danced in their minds.

         Blue stood before them, dressed in a rainbow of butterflies, arms raised, eyes cast towards the heavens, perhaps seeing his own comet’s light and pronouncing wonders.  When he took my hand and proclaimed that my first told story was perfect and wonderful...I believed him.  When I saw the smile and flash of agreement in Ruth’s eyes, I felt the rolling of the old thunder.

         On that day, the world hesitated in it’s turning to allow my ancient soul to be awakened once more by the power of Brother Blue’s ageless, universal spirit. My own spark was set free to fly around the campfires of the world, telling, telling, and telling. And I’m home again!
+++
SIDEBAR:” Teaching and inspiring others" won Peggy Melanson the opportunity to be a Torchbearer for the 2002 Olympics. She was also awarded "Cool Woman of America" by American Movie Classics Television Network and selected, “Ms Congeniality” by the Golden Girls Pageant. Peggy is a writer and storyteller, Mixed media and Zentangle She also is a” One Woman Comedy show” presenter. As a freelance writer she has written columns for several New England magazines and newspapers. Peggy is presently working on "Dancing on the Roof,” a Memoir.





Wednesday, August 22, 2012

NEW Feature- Storytelling: Think&Do 1.0


Storytelling: Think&Do
by  Norah Dooley
Theory and Practice for Storytelling as a 21st Century Skill

I intend to make my reflections on the art of storytelling and an exercise a weekly feature here.  And I welcome comments and lively discussion. Please join in!

Think&Do 1.0  "Time+tragedy=comedy. Or does it?


I  loved this bromide since I first heard it from Laura Love, a singer-songwriter in her introduction to Voices, a beautiful song about her mother's mental illness. Time+tragedy = comedy. Is this more cliché than true? Or is comedy the surest indicator that we are on the other side of tragedy? I just finished a workshop for a nonprofit group that wants to work with victims of domestic violence. This workshop naturally raised the issue that often comes up at our story slams. Can I tell a sad story?  Can I tell my sad story? Yes! Does my story need to be funny? No. Do you need to have distance from your pain? Yes.  And, have  you gained something from the experience that you choose to share that makes it worth listening to? Oh, yes. 

In many situations it is wonderful and healing to work through our stories together but as an art or as paid entertainment it is a huge no-no. In fact anywhere your listener has not agreed to the role of a caring and patient listener, this kind of storytelling is discouraged.

In a story slam situation I ask the storyteller ‘Do you bring something to the audience or are you asking them for something?’  People get paid big bucks to listen to you ramble – they are trained therapists. But an audience expects a work of art and should never be asked to try to make sense out of your life.  That is your job. As human beings we make sense of our experience through story. An artist/storyteller does this work BEFORE they take the stage. Often, with each telling our own understanding and insight into our experience deepens. This is the beauty of any true art for…the practitioner gains as well as the recipient.

Writer Judith Barrington acknowledges this experience in the quote below. Judith teaches memoir writing and her Lifesaving: A Memoir, is an award wining book. In it she reflects on the accidental death of both her parents when she was 19 years old and how as a young woman she dealt with sudden loss and coming of age. When asked how she worked through difficult emotions on the page Judith Barrington said:

“ I didn’t work through the emotions on the page; I worked through them before I started to write the book. It took years for me to be ready. I don’t believe that writing in any genre is a substitute for therapy (or deep thought or journaling or however you deal with life’s blows)—even though you may get new insights into your experience in the process of writing the memoir.”


For her readers and for Judith the resulting work of art was worth the wait.

Exercise: Think&Do 1.0  The 5 Whys  

State what your story is about in one or two sentences. Ask yourself or have a friend ask you why (are you telling me this?) The WHYS should come in rapid succession – speak your thoughts. You will answer with the 1st thing that comes into to your head, 5 times.  You may also try this as a writing exercise. Once you have done this a few times, it will be easier to know if you are ready to tell your story.

Adapted from from The Five Whys Technique by Olivier Serrat “ three key elements to effective use of the Five Whys technique: (i) accurate and complete statements of problems,5 (ii) complete honesty in answering the questions, (iii) the determination to get to the bottom of problems and resolve them. The technique was developed by Sakichi Toyoda for the Toyota Industries Corporation.”  www.adb.org/publications/five-whys-technique

Great  50 minute live set of Laura Love Band here: http://youtu.be/BxroVyOi5eQ

Thanks to  Annette’s Paper Trail blog at www.annettefix.com for the Judith Barrington material

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Tokyo - Nov 11, 2011

Whooeeee! It is Friday already and I can hardly believe I am here! Plane journey was relatively easy (considering how much I hate it) and without complications. I liked Air Canada and Toronto Airport has a ton of lovely public art.  But mama mia, I am a long way from home. Below is a youtube of some pictures - a little backwards look at my journey which did take the better part of a day.

I fell asleep at 6:30PM Tokyo time, for a little nap.  And woke up 12 hours later.  Very rested and totally excited to be in Japan. On the way from Ueno station to Bunkyo-ku I noticed aka-chochin ( red lantern bars that stay open late for food and beer) loads of bicycles and vending machines on the street which I remembered from 35 years ago.  I looked out from the sixth floor of the appahto, where I am staying and listened to early morning bird songs and watched people walk to work under umbrellas, looking just like Hakusai- Edo period block prints. Sugoi desu neh? Now to work! First talk is at 1PM today, to undergraduates at Aoyama University on the importance of storytelling. And I am looking into the work of this modern day Japanese performer that Tim Erenata told me about.

http://www.yomiuri.co.jp/dy/national/T111020004412.htm

Waku-waku, suru! Very excited. Matta, neh?

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Kamishibai and Why I love Powerpoints: Insight from wikipedia

Kamishibai and Why I  love Powerpoints: Insight from wikipedia
Tokyo kamishibai with a mic
Looking at pictures and talking about them must be in my DNA. I love making and working with Powerpoints and digital projectors. Perhaps, many, many years ago a distant relative or ancestor was a "cantastoria" who told stories with i giuglliari di piazza or the "jesters of the square"

kamishibai
Cantastoria (also spelled cantastorie, canta storia or canta historia) comes from Italian for "sung story" or "singing history" and is known by many other names around the world. It is a theatrical form where a performer tells or sings a story while gesturing to a series of images. These images can be painted, printed or drawn on any sort of material.  Picture stories were also popular in Asia. In 6th century India religious tales called Saubhikas were performed by traveling storytellers who carried banners painted with images of gods from house to house. Another form called Yamapapaka featured vertical cloth scrolls accompanied by sung stories of the afterlife. In Tibet this was known as ma-ni-pa and in China this was known as pien or transformation story.

In Indonesia the scroll was made horizontal and became the wayang beber and employed four performers: A man who sings the story, two men who operate the rolling of the scroll, and a woman who holds a lamp to illuminate particular pictures featured in the story. Other Indonesian theater forms such as wayang kulit shadow play and wayang golek rod puppet shows developed around the same time and are still performed today. In Japan cantastoria appears as "etoki" or "emaki" in the form of hanging scrolls divided into separate panels, foreshadowing the immensely popular manga, or Japanese comics.

Surrounded by children
Etoki sometimes took the shape of little booklets, or even displays of dolls posed on the roadside with backgrounds behind them. In the 20th century, Japanese canndymen would bicycle around with serial shows called kamishibai where the story was told to a series of changing pictures that slid in and out of an open-framed box.

In aboriginal Australia storytellers paint story sequences on tree bark and also on themselves for the purposes of performing the tale.

In the 19th century giant scrolling moving panorama performances were performed throughout the United Kingdom and United States. The 20th century has seen cantastoria employed by the radical art, theater and puppetry movements to tell stories from perspectives outside of the mainstream media, especially by the Bread and Puppet Theater. Elements of picture storytelling can also be seen in the portable mural-posters of the Beehive Collective.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Life of A Storyteller: It's Like This, too...

It is a beautiful thing to be an artist. And I am ever grateful that I have work that allows me such full expression of who I really am. But lest I get too ecstatic in this " art and life are beautiful" vein, I feel I should mention that the merry life of a live performer is like this too...

It's Like This, too: the life of a storyteller in two short acts

Telling stories in an urban park on an pre-inspected surface...

 ACT 1 "More Interesting than Dog Poop"
Scene: A Summer gig, not too long ago  -

My work sends me to some funky venues.
This one was a park along side a highway where the planes are low overhead in their approach to Logan. It was about 90º F.

It was also before lunch and maybe after nap
About 20 kids about 3 years old each,
walking like somnambulists, holding on to
clothesline were brought out to me and
we were all led to a huge tree.




How primal - how essential !
Me, a tree and a group of children.
This is storytelling.
This is what it is all about!

The disaffected teen staff were sullen
and glum. Who could blame them?
It was so damn hot, humid and smelly.
But when I pointed out that the broken glass mixed in the
wet with dew covered grass as unsuitable for tender toddler bottoms of my audience they
became even unhappier.
We moved around the tree and finally to another tree.
And I started at last.
A plane roared overhead. I pushed on.
Traffic flowed and growled in the background.
I engaged and cavorted.
Then a bright and perspicacious little boy noticed a huge dog
turd about 18" inches away from my foot.


God. I wished I had seen that first.

"Wow. Look! Dog P-O-O-P!"

20 little heads were snapped around and riveted
in attention on the brown, perfectly
formed canine offering by my foot. The teen counselors perked up.
This became a moment of intense interest. My audience could not get enough -
It quickly evolved into group participation.
They had to see and share and even wanted to touch.
This last desire snapped the teen's into action.
They had no tools to remove the intruding turd so the counselors worked on crowd control.

And the rest of my gig was spent in shameless competition.
By god ! I am storyteller!

I am more
interesting than dog poop.
Aren't I?
Story is bigger than this!
Isn't story bigger than this?

Apparently not.
I bought a sound system next year.
I bring plastic bags.
I know who I am.

I am a storyteller and that is for shizzle!

Such is the power of storytelling.



Act 2  And I thought dog poop was stiff competition? 
Scene: A school gig in the winter

Performer's Affirmation - "Don't lose concentration."
One day,  I tested the power of storytelling.
For real. I was right in the beginning set of my presentation in a cafetorium filled with 300 or so K- 2 grades sitting on their bottoms. The kindergardners were already a bit rambunctious. I was intent on keeping their attention. As is often the case, they are disoriented in a big space where they can only see me or the person next to them.  I usually request to see them in the warm familiarity of their classrooms.  In their own space their teacher's eyes, arms and laps are always close by.
Their sketchy attention was soon downgraded to a non-issue when a poor little 1st grader quietly let fly. 
I saw some of the action in my peripheral vision. Luckily the calm and very quiet 1st grader who lost his/her breakfast and made a spectacular technicolor yawn was behind the K- folk who were now with me and my story.




The space for 15 feet around the incident was quickly and immediately evacuated.

This happened so quickly and noiselessly that I wasn't sure what was going on until I saw there was a hole in what had been a visual field full of 1st graders.
And in the middle of the large white space
was an enormous puddle of
red vomit.

For quite a while the spot was vacant. The news was passed quickly through the students and rippled in whispers to the back rows where 1st and 2nd graders started poking their heads up like
gophers to try and "see".

A teacher covered the one foot circle of
vomit, with small paper napkins.
This manouever took some time. She was thorough. And slow.
Finally the fire engine red circle with orange chunks
was covered up. Mostly.

And then janitor came. Moving
with the measured,
precise movements of a character in a Noh play,
he carefully swept and then
he brought out sawdust and sprinkled and swept some more.
He returned with disinfectant
and sprayed and wiped and wiped again.

It was not a simple task. A laborious process. A careful cleaning.

But, by god - I was more interesting than throw up and clean up. I never stopped and never lost the
crowd or my train of thought.

This is the POWER of storytelling. Essential. Deep. Organic. Human.

Amen.

Both these "acts" were previously published in this very blog 4 years ago. That was back in the day, when I first started a blog, thanks to Andrea Lovett, who walked me through the set up.