Whew. What a storm. Being here in landlocked Kansas, all I can do is send prayers and maybe cash, look at the pictures in the paper and remember other hurricanes. We had big storms, gales, and I think a few hurricanes when I was a kid in Rhode Island but all I remember is wading in the overflowing storm drain puddle at the end of the street.
I was in Gloria in New York City in 1985. It wasn't too bad. I lived in International House, an independent dorm for graduate students in schools around the city. It was the only day in the entire year that almost everybody was home. We hung out, played scrabble, went up on the roof (!), and went for a walk down Broadway when the skies had cleared.
There was one in 1991 when I lived in Connecticut. My parents were visiting friends in Rhode Island and were on their way to my house. Mostly I remember Dad grumbling about being evacuated--as a Rhode Islander, he'd been through his own interesting times in hurricanes (care to comment, Dad?).
This one is something else. For a resident storyteller's view, check out Dianne de Las Casas' blog.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Wedding stories
I'm going to a wedding this weekend. I've known the bride since she was 6 days old--and I was in college. I asked her mother for suggestions on wedding presents. The e-mail response came a few days later: Kristen would like me to tell a story at the reception.
Wedding stories. The first time I was asked to tell a story at a wedding was back in the mid '90s. A friend of my sister asked if I could tell the story of how she and her sweetie met, and their lives together since. Over ice cream, the couple told me their story. I listened, wrote everything down, listened, asked questions, listened and put it all aside. After a while, I was able to find a thread that ran through all their adventures. I found a form for the story.
I enjoyed telling their own story at the wedding, but it was a little chancy--I seem to have a problem with facts. I got partway through the story and forgot the next bit. I chose to strike a pensive pose, looking down at the ground. Inside I was cursing. What came next?! I couldn't make it up! Then I remembered to breathe and the next piece of their story came back to me.
For this upcoming wedding, it won't be so tricky, I don't think. I'll tell a story I invented when I was about 13 about the kids in this family--I added Kristen's name to the story after she was born. Once the kids made me a little book of "The peanut butter story," nicely illustrated.
And what else? This isn't a full performance, so I'll probably just tell one more, maybe two. I've been looking for the right one. Should I tell an old chestnut, like "Sir Gawain and the loathly lady"? Should I tell a folk tale that's funny and ends well, like the Irish story "The lazy young woman"? Or should I jump right in and tell a new one? It can take a long time to find the right story, and a long time to make it my own, but sometimes, just sometimes, I can find one, love it, learn it and have it work well. It may become a part of the full repertoire as it sinks into my body and mind, or it may be a flash in the pan. Some stories take years, literally, to learn (and sometimes understanding comes much later).
I'll let you know what I tell, but probably not until after the fact.
Wedding stories. The first time I was asked to tell a story at a wedding was back in the mid '90s. A friend of my sister asked if I could tell the story of how she and her sweetie met, and their lives together since. Over ice cream, the couple told me their story. I listened, wrote everything down, listened, asked questions, listened and put it all aside. After a while, I was able to find a thread that ran through all their adventures. I found a form for the story.
I enjoyed telling their own story at the wedding, but it was a little chancy--I seem to have a problem with facts. I got partway through the story and forgot the next bit. I chose to strike a pensive pose, looking down at the ground. Inside I was cursing. What came next?! I couldn't make it up! Then I remembered to breathe and the next piece of their story came back to me.
For this upcoming wedding, it won't be so tricky, I don't think. I'll tell a story I invented when I was about 13 about the kids in this family--I added Kristen's name to the story after she was born. Once the kids made me a little book of "The peanut butter story," nicely illustrated.
And what else? This isn't a full performance, so I'll probably just tell one more, maybe two. I've been looking for the right one. Should I tell an old chestnut, like "Sir Gawain and the loathly lady"? Should I tell a folk tale that's funny and ends well, like the Irish story "The lazy young woman"? Or should I jump right in and tell a new one? It can take a long time to find the right story, and a long time to make it my own, but sometimes, just sometimes, I can find one, love it, learn it and have it work well. It may become a part of the full repertoire as it sinks into my body and mind, or it may be a flash in the pan. Some stories take years, literally, to learn (and sometimes understanding comes much later).
I'll let you know what I tell, but probably not until after the fact.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
ADD and me
Hm. I sat down to write something, not sure what, then remembered that I needed to put a new ink cartridge in the printer, so I can print a promotional piece as I write. I got up to get the cartridge, then decided that lunch would be a good idea. I turned the radio on as I got my lunch, English muffin with mustard, smoked turkey and sharp cheddar, yum! While the English muffin was toasting, I called time and temp so I could set the microwave clock. As I ate, I opened Delivered from Distraction, the book on Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) I've been reading. Oh, that's what I should write about! Even as I write that, I think, dang, I forgot to put the printer cartridge in...
Despite never having had a real diagnosis, I've known for a long time that I most likely have ADD (officially called ADHD, but I like ADD better--am I really hyperactive?). As I read this book I realize that lots of my friends and family probably do, too.
I don' t think of it as a disorder, though. Yeah, there are parts of it which make life more difficult, but generally, it's a gift. For quite a while, I've been calling it "diffuse attention." It means that I'm aware of what's going on at several levels when I'm performing. I'm watching everything: the story, my own energy, the audience. I'm paying attention to where I get a laugh, or where I don't, where a long pause makes a difference, where speeding up shifts the story. I wrote about this in the post on energy of space. Occasionally I find myself pulled out of the story, but usually all I have to do is remind myself to be present.
Because of this, I'm forgiving of children in the audience who need to move a little bit, as long as they're not bothering anybody. I build in repetitive hand gestures and phrases into stories for young children so the kinesthetic learners have something to do to anchor them physically in the story.
It also means that I can keep lots of stories in my head at once, lots of projects going at the same time. I think it's why I can improvise within a story or with a puppet.
True enough, I have phone messages written on the backs of envelopes and on scrap paper around my house, and I have a tendency to procrastinate or lose focus when I'm working on something less than scintillating. Conversation with me can be an adventure or just plain confusing, as I tend to flit from idea to idea. I'm always reading about eight books at once.
I've set up systems to help myself stay on track. Lists and deadlines help. My Palm is invaluable, not only for playing Scrabble. Periodically I sort and file all the piles of clutter in my house, all at once (I think of this as "infrastructure cleaning"). I try to arrive at gigs early enough that nobody, including me, is anxious.
I'm interested in the strategies in this book for working with ADD. I already do some of them: meditation, regular exercise, systems that help me keep track of my life, having creative outlets. There are others that look intriguing: brain exercises to help focus, taking omega-3 fatty acids.
Maybe I'll go look up some of the websites on ADD. Or I'll put the printer cartridge in.
Despite never having had a real diagnosis, I've known for a long time that I most likely have ADD (officially called ADHD, but I like ADD better--am I really hyperactive?). As I read this book I realize that lots of my friends and family probably do, too.
I don' t think of it as a disorder, though. Yeah, there are parts of it which make life more difficult, but generally, it's a gift. For quite a while, I've been calling it "diffuse attention." It means that I'm aware of what's going on at several levels when I'm performing. I'm watching everything: the story, my own energy, the audience. I'm paying attention to where I get a laugh, or where I don't, where a long pause makes a difference, where speeding up shifts the story. I wrote about this in the post on energy of space. Occasionally I find myself pulled out of the story, but usually all I have to do is remind myself to be present.
Because of this, I'm forgiving of children in the audience who need to move a little bit, as long as they're not bothering anybody. I build in repetitive hand gestures and phrases into stories for young children so the kinesthetic learners have something to do to anchor them physically in the story.
It also means that I can keep lots of stories in my head at once, lots of projects going at the same time. I think it's why I can improvise within a story or with a puppet.
True enough, I have phone messages written on the backs of envelopes and on scrap paper around my house, and I have a tendency to procrastinate or lose focus when I'm working on something less than scintillating. Conversation with me can be an adventure or just plain confusing, as I tend to flit from idea to idea. I'm always reading about eight books at once.
I've set up systems to help myself stay on track. Lists and deadlines help. My Palm is invaluable, not only for playing Scrabble. Periodically I sort and file all the piles of clutter in my house, all at once (I think of this as "infrastructure cleaning"). I try to arrive at gigs early enough that nobody, including me, is anxious.
I'm interested in the strategies in this book for working with ADD. I already do some of them: meditation, regular exercise, systems that help me keep track of my life, having creative outlets. There are others that look intriguing: brain exercises to help focus, taking omega-3 fatty acids.
Maybe I'll go look up some of the websites on ADD. Or I'll put the printer cartridge in.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Long story festival
Hmm, I think all I needed to do was write that post yesterday to get myself back to work. That, and talking on the phone with Liz Warren about our upcoming project, "Going Deep: The Long Traditional Story Festival."
We're really going to do it. We've talked and dreamed about this for years.
Here are some details: March 16-19, 2006 at Cynthia Changaris' Storyteller's Riverhouse in Bethlehem, Indiana (not far from Louisville, KY). Three long stories in the evenings, three long workshops the next morning, three afternoons to stroll by the Ohio River or nap or chat quietly. We have space for 15 participants to stay for the entire festival, though of course the public is invited to attend the evening events for a small fee.
What stories? Liz Warren will start us off in style with her elegant telling of "The Grail," the quintessential hero's journey. The next night Olga Loya will captivate us with an Aztec creation myth. We'll save romance for the last night, when I tell "Tristan and Iseult."
Who might come to this? Storytellers, storylisteners, librarians, academics, anybody who says, "Hey, cool! Count me in!"
Whaddya think?
We're really going to do it. We've talked and dreamed about this for years.
Here are some details: March 16-19, 2006 at Cynthia Changaris' Storyteller's Riverhouse in Bethlehem, Indiana (not far from Louisville, KY). Three long stories in the evenings, three long workshops the next morning, three afternoons to stroll by the Ohio River or nap or chat quietly. We have space for 15 participants to stay for the entire festival, though of course the public is invited to attend the evening events for a small fee.
What stories? Liz Warren will start us off in style with her elegant telling of "The Grail," the quintessential hero's journey. The next night Olga Loya will captivate us with an Aztec creation myth. We'll save romance for the last night, when I tell "Tristan and Iseult."
Who might come to this? Storytellers, storylisteners, librarians, academics, anybody who says, "Hey, cool! Count me in!"
Whaddya think?
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