A victory at The Moth Boston

Elysha and I attended the Moth StorySLAM in Boston last night, and I was fortunate enough to squeeze out a victory by a tenth of a point over two worthy competitors for my fourth StorySLAM victory. It was my first time telling a story in the state where I grew up, and it was a lot of fun.

I told a story about my realization as a child that hard work, effort and creativity cannot always overcome the material shortfalls and economic disadvantages associated with of poverty.

At its heart, the story was about the time when my childhood friend received a new ten-speed bike for his birthday and my subsequent realization that I would never defeat him in a bike race again, no matter how hard I tried, as long as I continued to ride my ancient, knobby-wheeled Huffy hand-me-down.

I managed to defeat two outstanding storytellers who both told hilarious and compelling tales from their youth as well. One told a story about how be became a vegetarian for five years just to win a bet against his older brother. The other told a story about the way in which Quentin Tarentino helped her try to win the heart of her high school English teacher.  

Both stories were equally deserving of the win.

Thoughts from an evening:

1. This was my third attempt to attend a Boston StorySLAM. My first two trips were canceled due to a blizzard and the marathon bombing, so when hail the size of acorns began pelting our car on the Mass Pike, I began to wonder the universe was urging me to stay away from Bean Town.

Thankfully, we make it to Boston safely, though I thought Elysha was going to kill me when I refused to pull off the highway in the midst of the storm.

2. Attending The Moth in Boston was a lot like attending my first StorySLAM in New York back in July of 2011. I stepped into The Oberon not knowing a soul, much the same way I entered the Nuyorican Poet’s Café on my first night of storytelling almost two years ago. When I attend a StorySLAM in New York today, I always have friends in the audience. Many are fellow storytellers, Moth staff and producers, but there are also audience members who recognize me as a storyteller and make me feel at home. As loud and crowded and seemingly intimidating as a New York Moth event may be, it’s also a warm and inviting place for me to tell a story.

I was a complete stranger to the Boston audience. In truth, it was the first StorySLAM for most of the people in the audience last night. The Moth opened its doors just six month ago in Boston, and though their shows are consistently selling out, the audiences are still new to the format, and they are just beginning to build a base of regular attendees.

3. As the show began, there were only seven names in the hat. Unlike a New York StorySLAM, where there are always at least ten names in the hat and almost always many more, producers encouraged audience members to put their names in the hat at intermission to fill the ten storytelling slots for the evening, and they did. The number of names in the hat eventually swelled to 13, and in many ways, the second half of the show was much stronger than the first.

4. Even though it was my first time in Boston, I already started making friends with my fellow storytellers. It’s quite remarkable. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done in my life in which I want to absolutely destroy my competition while at the same time hope they do exceptionally well.

Winning a StorySLAM is an amazing feeling, but losing to great stories doesn’t hurt so much.

At the end of the show, I found myself chatting with storytellers onstage, sharing insight and advice when asked. Storytelling is new for many of them, and upon learning that I tell stories in New York, many were eager to pick my brain for tips. Unlike any other competitive situation, I gave willingly. 

5. My name was the fifth drawn from the hat, which is much better than first or second but still a tough spot to be with such strong storytellers in the second half of the show. Of the four times that I have won a StorySLAM, my name has been drawn tenth, second, ninth and fifth.

6. During intermission, a guy sitting next to me asked if I was feeling more relaxed now that I had told my story. I said no. I explained that I truly love telling stories onstage, so when I tell my story during the first half of the show, my favorite part of the evening has come to an end.

While I am always grateful to have my name chosen at all, I often find myself sitting through the second half of the show thinking about what my next story will be for my next StorySLAM.

In short, when I’m finished telling my story, I already can’t wait to get back onstage again. 

Another Yes Man

Back in January, Andy Mayo and I debuted our rock opera, The Clowns, at The Playhouse on Park. During our two weeks of workshop with the actors, musicians and director, there were three performances of the show.

At the Saturday evening show, a man named Kevin Eldridge was present in the audience.

Kevin grew up with me in my hometown of Blackstone, Massachusetts. He was a year or two older than me, but we lived on the same street and took the same bus to school everyday. Kevin and I were the only male flute players in the school system at the time.

Despite our geographic proximity, we were not friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, but we did not spend any time together.

Kevin went to a private school for high school and I continued my journey through public school. For more than twenty-five years, I did not see or hear from Kevin. In truth, I didn’t see or hear much from Kevin when we were kids, either.

Then Kevin heard about my writing career and read one of my novels. He began following me on the Internet. He discussed my book on his podcast.

In reading my blog and becoming a Facebook friend, Kevin heard about The Clowns and surprised me by driving with his wife from their home in Massachusetts on a Saturday night in January to see the performance.

Three hours on the road to see the workshop version of a musical written by a kid who he used to ride the school bus with in elementary school.

Last month Kevin surprised me again by showing up for our first Speak Up storytelling event, this time with his podcast co-host, Cornflake.

Once again, I was both honored and stunned.

It turns out that Kevin and I are cut from the same cloth.

Kevin does not know me well. He did not know what to expect from either event. He was potentially driving three hours from his home to watch a failed attempt at unproven, experimental  entertainment.

But what were his options?

He could’ve stayed home on Saturday night, as so many others did, watching television or going to bed early.

Or he could’ve taken a chance on something new and far away and potentially entertaining and memorable.

Kevin said yes when so many said no.

I like to think that people like Kevin will find themselves with considerably fewer regrets at the end of their life.

Speak Up date announced!

Please mark your calendars!

Our next Speak Up storytelling event will take place on Saturday, September 28 at 7:00 PM at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT.

We are currently in the process of deciding if we want to change the format in any way. One thought is to add a storyteller to the program so that we have eight in all. Four before intermission and four after intermission.

We are also considering reducing the recommended time allotted to storytellers from ten minutes to eight minutes. As a storyteller myself and one who plans on telling a story that night, ten minutes is much more appealing than eight, but I also know that when you reduce the time allotted for storytellers, their stories tend to only get better.

Editing is a painful but powerful process.

This reduction in time will also allow us to better accommodate one more storyteller into the program.

If you have any thoughts about these proposed changes, please let us know.

In the next month or two, we will be releasing the theme of the evening and guidelines that will explain how to pitch a story to us. While we plan on inviting storytellers who we know to perform that night, we also plan on opening up the event to new storytellers as well.   

Lastly, if you attended our first event and took any photographs, could you please send them along to us? We have an audio recording of the evening that we will podcast as soon as that’s possible, but we have no images from our event. We’d love to get our hands on some if possible.

Speak Up: A recap of our first show

Our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event took place at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT on Saturday night, and Elysha and I couldn’t be more pleased with the results. Thoughts from the evening include:

1. One of our greatest fears was that there simply wouldn’t be enough people interested in storytelling to fill the space and provide our storytellers with an audience. Thankfully, we couldn’t have been more mistaken. We had seating for 80 guests and ended up with a standing-room-only audience of close to 150 people, many of whom Elysha and I did not know. It turns out that there is an appetite for storytelling in Hartford after all. We couldn’t be more thrilled. The audience was exceptionally supportive of our emcee and storytellers and couldn’t have been more enthusiastic. I have told many stories for The Moth and other storytelling organizations in the past two years, and Saturday night’s audience rivaled them all in terms of sheer energy.

2. While admittedly biased, I must say that our storytellers were incredible last night. Several people who are familiar with The Moth through their weekly podcast, radio show and live events told us that last night’s show was “Moth-like quality.” As an unabashed fanboy of The Moth and a frequent Moth storyteller, I could not imagine a better compliment. Elysha and I went to bed talking about how difficult it was to choose a favorite story from the show because the performances were all so remarkable.

3. One of the most frustrating aspects of producing an event like this is the inability to speak to everyone in attendance. If you were at the Saturday night show and Elysha and I did not have a chance to chat with you, our deepest apologies. We were busier than we thought we would be. We wish we could’ve spent time with one and all.

4. Launching this endeavor and producing last night’s show with my wife reminded me of how fortunate I am to have a person like Elysha as my wife. She is creative, encouraging, inspiring and brave. Saturday night’s show was one I will never forget, but it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying had Elysha not been my partner in this new venture.

5. One of the aspects of the show that people seemed to enjoy the most was the variety of stories that were told. They ranged from humorous to heartfelt, thrilling to heart-wrenching. Yet oddly enough, there was also a connective tissue between many of the stories that was both unexpected and fascinating. At least three storytellers told stories in which their names played a key role (including my own). Unbeknownst to us, two storytellers told stories about traveling to Greece when they were young (one changed her story less than 24 hours before show time). Three storytellers told stories about a school-based competition. Yet every story stood alone in terms of its content, message and impact on the audience. They were all unique, compelling and completely entertaining.   

6. After the show, Elysha and I went to The Corner Pug for dinner and ran into four people who had been at the show. They raved about the storytellers and Elysha’s performance as emcee. It was the perfect way to end the evening.

7. A former elementary school classmate, Kevin, and his friend and podcast co-host, Cornflake, made the trip from central Massachusetts to attend the show. Kevin is the same classmate who attended a January performance of The Clowns, the rock opera that I co-wrote with Andy Mayo that we produced at the Playhouse on Park in West Hartford, Connecticut. More on Kevin and Cornflake in a subsequent post, but needless to say, they were awarded the prize for the greatest distance traveled to attend the show. 

8. We are grateful to so many people who played a role in last night’s success. Some of these people include:

Rob Hugh, who helped make the recording possible. We recorded all the stories from Saturday night and will make the recordings available via a podcast that Elysha and I will be launching soon.

Vanessa Del a Torre from the Hartford Courant, who was kind enough to write a story about our event. Many people informed me that they had heard about Speak Up through the Courant and were in attendance because of the story that she wrote.

LB Munoz, Will Wilkins and the rest of the staff at Real Art Ways who provided us with the perfect venue to launch this endeavor. They were generous, knowledgeable, patient and bend-over-back helpful in making this happen. We look forward to working with them long into the future.

Our storytellers, without whom there would be no show:

Game show host extraordinaire, James Bengiovanni

A woman who truly knows how to celebrate Mother’s Day, Ellen Painter Dollar

Spelling bee champion, Rachel Leventhal-Weiner

The man who rode a crocodile from Africa to America, Okey Ndibe

The grandson of the Queen of the Goats, Plato Karafelis

Summer Lovers/Peter Gallagher devotee Kim Damokosh

We thank you all for your expertise and exceptionalism. We were honored to have you launch this endeavor with us. 

9. We are already planning our next Speak Up event, which will likely take place in September. When we have more details, we will be sure to provide them.

Speak Up storyteller: Matthew Dicks

Just six days until our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT.

Saturday, May 4 at 7:00 PM. Admission is free. Beer, wine and snacks will be sold at the venue.

If you plan on attending, please go to our Facebook invite page and let us know to help with the head count.

Today I’m announcing our seventh and final storyteller, which happens to be me. When I first proposed this project to Elysha, my goal was two-fold:

1. Bring storytelling to Hartford, Connecticut, in order to give audiences a chance to experience the magic of live storytelling without having to drive into New York or Boston.

2. More selfishly, provide an opportunity for me and other interested storytellers to tell stories to interested audiences without having to drive into New York and Boston to do so.

So yes, I plan on telling a story as well on Saturday night. Oddly enough, I’m feeling a little nervous about doing so, even though I frequently tell stories to large audiences in New York City and rarely feel nervous.
____________________________________   

Matthew Dicks

Matthew Dicks is the author of the novels Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend, Something Missing and Unexpectedly, Milo, as well as the rock opera, The Clowns. He has also published pieces in The Hartford Courant, The Huffington Post, The Houston Chronicle and Educational Leadership. He has also published poetry and blogs regularly at matthewdicks.com/blog.   

When he is not hunched over a computer screen, Matthew fills his days as an elementary school teacher, a wedding DJ, a heathen minister, a life coach and a Lord of Sealand. He is a former West Hartford Teacher of the Year and a three-time Moth StorySLAM champion.

Matthew is married to friend and fellow teacher, Elysha. They have a daughter named Clara and a son named Charlie.

Matthew grew up in the small town of Blackstone, Massachusetts, where he made a name for himself by dying twice before the age of eighteen and becoming the first student in his high school to be suspended for inciting riot upon himself.

Speak Up storyteller: Plato Karafelis

Less than two weeks before our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT. May 4 at 7:00 PM. Admission is free. If you plan on attending, please go to our Facebook invite page and let us know to help with the head count.

Today I’m proud to introduce our sixth storyteller, Plato Karafelis. _____________________________

Plato Karafelis

Plato Karafelis has been the principal of Henry Wolcott School in West Hartford for 25 years. He is retiring in June. A kindergarten student recently told him that he looked like he was 29 years old and that retirement meant you got to spend time with your family. Of course, another student told him he looked 87 and retirement meant you lost your job and couldn’t find another one.

Plato did not have a given name for the first year of his life. His family just didn’t get around to naming him and it didn’t seem important. This explains a great deal about Plato’s need to please others.

Plato grew up in a family of gregarious, Greek storytellers. It was hard to get a word in edgewise. When the family gathered, all generations sat in the same room and stories were told by committee. This usually resulted in arguments. Sometimes the arguments turned into feuds and family members would disown each other and not speak to each other for years. Eventually, someone would die and the family would all get together at the funeral and tell stories about the person who died and end up hugging each other, drinking Metaxa, and dancing.

Plato lives with his lovely wife Sharon and their twin daughters Alexis and Chloe, who will be going to college in the fall.

Speak Up storyteller: Kim Damokosh

Two weeks before our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT. May 4 at 7:00 PM. Admission is free.

Today I’m proud to introduce our fifth storyteller, Kim Damokosh. Her bio was written by her teenage daughter, Emma. _____________________________

Kim Damokosh

My mom, Kim Damokosh, is a woman of many personalities. At work she is a high- powered consultant that brings many a man to their knees with her ferocious negotiation skills.

Meanwhile, at home she must corral her incorrigible teenaged kids. She is a hard-core tiger mom with the best of intentions.

However when it comes time to let loose, laughter ensues after every sentence she utters. She must be a chef, a chauffeur, a teacher, therapist and a personal assistant all at once. She is a loving mom and wife whose motto for life is “Work hard, play hard.”

The Moth: Science Fair Cheater

On August 23, 2012, I took the stage at The Moth StorySLAM at Housing Works in Manhattan to tell a story. The theme of the night was Yin/Yang.

I told a story about cheating in my high school science fair and unintentionally doing well.

I placed second on the evening, losing by a tenth of a point to Moth legend Steve Zimmer. It was the second StorySLAM in a row that I had lost by a tenth of a point to Zimmer.

Here a recording of the story I told that night:

The Moth: Charitable Contributions

On August 14, 2012, I took the stage at The Moth StorySLAM at Housing Works in Manhattan to tell a story. The theme of the night was About Time. 

I placed second on the evening, losing by a tenth of a point (again) to Moth legend and my personal storytelling hero Steve Zimmer.

Here a recording of the story I told that night:

Speak Up storyteller: Ellen Painter Dollar

Less than a month to go before our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT. May 4 at 7:00 PM. Admission is free. Today I’m proud to introduce our fourth storyteller, Ellen Painter Dollar. _____________________________

Ellen Painter Dollar

Ellen Painter Dollar is a writer who focuses on disability, faith, parenting, and ethics. She blogs for Patheos (a religion and spirituality web portal) on these topics and more, with a particular interest in the ethical questions raised by modern reproductive and genetic technologies.

Ellen believes that telling and listening to stories is the only fruitful way to have meaningful conversations around difficult questions facing our culture. Most of her writing consists of telling stories (her own and others') rather than taking sides or arguing positions.

Her first book, No Easy Choice: A Story of Disability, Parenthood, and Faith in an Age of Advanced Reproduction (Westminster John Knox, 2012) tells her story of growing up with a disabling bone disorder, and having three biological children, each of whom had a 50 percent chance of inheriting the disorder.

Ellen lives in West Hartford with her husband and three children, who are 13, 9, and 7. Having recently received the astoundingly depressing first-year sales numbers for her book, Ellen's current goal as a writer is to "go big or go home," meaning she is working to reach more and wider audiences, impress editors, and even get paid now and then.

Ellen Painter Dollar, Writer Author of No Easy Choice: A Story of Disability, Parenthood, and Faith in an Age of Advanced Reproduction (Westminster John Knox, 2012)

Co-founder of #It Is Enough, an informal coalition of Christians using social media to keep issues around gun violence and the need for stronger gun laws on the national agenda.

www.ellenpainterdollar.com

Speak Up storyteller: Rachel Leventhal-Weiner

Less than a month to go before our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT. May 4 at 7:00 PM. Admission is free.

Today I’m proud to introduce our third storyteller, Rachel Leventhal-Weiner. _____________________________

Rachel Leventhal-Weiner

Rachel Leventhal-Weiner is a sociologist mom living in West Hartford. A native of New Jersey, Rachel has been writing creative stories since she was a little girl, but is only now braving the stage to share a personal account of her own life.

By day, Rachel divides her time between her doctoral dissertation project in sociology at the University of Connecticut and teaching in the Educational Studies Program at Trinity College. Though the smallish feel of the liberal arts environment is a far cry from her Rutgers University roots, she enjoys connecting with her undergraduate students and getting more involved in Hartford Public Schools as a part of the Ed Studies Program.

By afternoon, evening, and weekend, you can find Rachel filling every minute with adventures with family and friends. She is the mother of two exuberant little girls who keep her on her toes. She loves to cook most things from scratch, wishes she had more time to crochet, and is never going to give up on her dream of running a (half) marathon. She loves a good hike, a great cocktail, and time with her incredible husband, David.

Rachel spends her “free” time sipping on coffee at Hartford Baking Company while writing scholarly papers and blogging at www.roguecheerios.com.

Speak Up storyteller: Okey Ndibe

Less than a month to go before our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT.

May 4 at 7:00 PM. Admission is free.

Today I’m proud to introduce our second storyteller, Okey Ndibe. My wife and I had the honor of getting to know Okey while his children attended the school where we teach, and I have listened to him tell stories to children as part of several cultural celebrations at our school.  

His biography will astound you. We can’t wait to find out what he has planned for us next month.

_____________________________    

Okey Ndibe

Until spring 2012, Okey taught fiction and African literature at Trinity College in Hartford, CT (where the student-run newspaper, The Trinity Tripod, named him one of 15 professors “students must take classes with before graduating”). He is currently a visiting professor of Africana literature at Brown University in Providence, RI where he co-teaches a course with Chinua Achebe, author of the inimitable Things Fall Apart.

Okey earned an MFA and PhD from U Mass, Amherst. This Fall, Soho Press (NYC) will publish his novel, foreign gods, inc. His first novel, Arrows of Rain, was published by Heinemann (UK) in their esteemed African Writers Series. Ten years after its publication, the novel – which has drawn praise from numerous critics and authors, including Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka and John Edgar Wideman – continues to maintain impressive sales. The U.K-based New Internationalist magazine described Arrows of Rain as “a powerful and gritty debut.” He also co-edited (with Zimbabwean author Chenjerai Hove) a book titled Writers, Writing on Conflicts and Wars in Africa.

Okey has taught at Connecticut College in New London, CT (where the student newspaper listed him as one of the college’s five outstanding professors), and Simon's Rock College of Bard in Great Barrington, MA, winning the college's New Faculty Award. During the 2001-2002 year, he was a Fulbright Scholar at the University of Lagos, Nigeria. He was the founding editor of African Commentary, a magazine published in the U.S. by novelist Chinua Achebe, author of the classic novel, Things Fall Apart.

From 2000 to 2001, Okey served on the editorial board of Hartford Courant where his essay titled “Eyes to the Ground: The Perils of the Black Student” won the 2001 Association of Opinion Page Editors award for best opinion essay in an American newspaper.

Since 1999, Okey has written a column on Nigeria's political, social and cultural affairs that's widely syndicated by Nigerian newspapers and numerous websites. His unsparing stance against official corruption in Nigeria earned him inclusion on a government list of “enemies of the state.” In January 2011, Nigeria’s security agents arrested him, confiscated his Nigerian and American passports, and briefly detained him. His ordeal was covered by the Nigerian and international media (including major American, British, Canadian, French, and German newspapers). Protests by various writers (among them Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe), writers organizations and the Connecticut Congressional delegation forced the Nigerian government to return his confiscated passports. Okey has been detained five more times since then, most recently this January when the security agency held him overnight for more than 10 hours before he was let go.

Okey is currently working on a memoir titled Going Dutch and Other American Misadventures – detailing his often hilarious as well as frightful experiences as an immigrant in the US. The memoir dwells on such experiences as his arrest – ten days after his arrival in America – as a bank robbery suspect. A widely traveled lecturer and raconteur in Nigeria, Okey frequently gives lectures and readings in Africa, Europe, and on college campuses in the US and Canada. In 2010, the Nigerian Peoples Parliament (a political pressure group of Nigerians resident abroad) elected him as speaker. 

Speak Up storyteller: James Bengiovanni

With just six weeks to go before our inaugural Speak Up storytelling event, we will begin introducing you to the seven storytellers scheduled to entertain you that evening, in the order that they will appear.

One storyteller each week until the big night on May 4 at Real Art Ways in Hartford, Connecticut.

Leading off that evening will be my best friend for the past 27 years and my DJ partner for the past 16 years. He was my best man in 2006 and delivered a toast that people still talk about today.

He’s sure to start us off with a bang. _____________________________

James Bengiovanni

James ‘Bengi’ Bengiovanni is a man of few talents.

As a child, he nearly learned how to swim. Later as an adult, he almost found an agent for his novel. Most recently, you can find Bengi not on Facebook or Twitter.

Somehow Bengi was named the 2013 Hartford Magnet Trinity College Academy Teacher of the Year. By default, he has also been the reigning A-Mattzing Race Champion for the past five years.

The father of three, he started running with his eldest daughter three years ago and will be running his first full marathon in Hartford this year.

Even though he acknowledges that Speak Up is not competitive storytelling, he has guaranteed victory.

Speak Up: True Stories. Real People.

Back in January, I announced our intention to launch a local storytelling series here in Connecticut, modeled loosely after The Moth, the organization in New York City that hosts the storytelling events in which I compete on a regular basis.

We have made significant progress since January, and I thought I’d share.

First, we have a name:

We also have a Facebook page that you should “like” if you want to receive updates on our upcoming and future events.

Most important, our first event will take place on Saturday, May 4 at 7:00 PM at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT. There is no admission cost. Real Art Ways will be selling beer, wine and food that evening if you are interested in partaking. 

Please save the date.

We have a lineup of seven fantastic storytellers who will each be telling 5-10 minute stories on the topic of Beginnings. They are Jim Bengiovanni, Ellen Dollar, Rachel Leventhal-Weiner, Okey Ndibe, Plato Karafelis, Kim Damokosh and myself.

My wife and partner in this project, Elysha, will be hosting the event that evening.

We are also looking for some assistance from anyone who is willing to volunteer their time and expertise.

Specifically, we would like to record the stories that night. I have several less-than-sophisticated ways of doing this, but if someone with greater expertise than myself could help us figure out the best way to record these stories on audio, or even better, volunteer to handle the recording that evening, we would be forever grateful.

Also, we’d love to have an official photographer for the evening. A professional or semi-professional if at all possible. If someone would like to volunteer their services, that would be wonderful, too.

More to come as we get closer to the event! We’re hoping for a standing-room-only crowd that night, so if you live in Connecticut, please consider joining us for this inaugural event!

She loved me first for my storytelling

I’ve been working on a story for The Moth about the beginning of my relationship with my wife and some of the more uncharacteristically awkward and foolish decisions that I made in those early days. It’s been fun to talk about and relive some of those moments together when we first fell in love. We’ve laughed about my naivety, debated the exact order of events and recalled details that had long been forgotten.

I’ve also leaned a few new things about the beginning of our relationship, including one detail that shocked me.

Before we even began dating, Elysha and I decided to go to our school’s talent show together. I was preforming a comedy act with a student, and several of Elysha’s students were in the show as well. Before the show, we stopped for dinner at a nearby Chilli’s. During the course of that meal, we began talking about my past, and by the time we were splitting the check, I had told Elysha about many of the challenges and difficulties that I have experienced in my life. 

My two near-death experiences.
The robbery.
My arrest and trial for a crime I did not commit.
My evil stepfather.
My period of homeless.

These were stories that I did not normally talk about with people, and especially with girls who I liked but thought were out of my league. I was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder at the time, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about some of the more traumatic moments of my life. But for reasons I don’t understand or remember, those stories came pouring forth from me that night, and Elysha listened with earnestness and empathy.

In talking with Elysha about the early stages of our relationship and this evening in particular, she told me that it was during that dinner at Chilli’s when she first started to like me.

“Why?” I asked. I had always assumed that she first started liking me because of my teaching and the way I connected with children.

No,” she said. “It was your storytelling. That’s what I liked first.”

Not my rugged good looks.
Not my wit and charm.
Not my skill and expertise as an educator.
Not my intellect and erudition.
Not my ability to post-up and rebound the ball despite my lack of size.

She liked my storytelling first.

As a novelist and a storyteller for The Moth and similar organizations, I like this. While I’m sure that my rugged good looks and post-up moves helped in fanning the flames of love, it was my ability to tell a story, and probably the stories themselves, that she loved first.

I love that.

I was describing the story that I was preparing for The Moth to a longtime friend and colleague yesterday, and she told me that before Elysha and I had even begun officially dating, Elysha had pulled her and another friend into an empty classroom one afternoon and declared that she was falling in love with me. “I am going to marry Matthew Dicks,” she told these two girls.

I love that, too. And I hadn’t known about that moment either until now. 

May I suggest that if you are married, you spend an evening talking about the early days of your relationship with your spouse. Discuss the timeline of events, the specific details and be sure to ask your spouse what he or she loved about you first.

The answers may surprise you.

No Moth, but a silver lining. Probably too generous. Not quite silver. More like chrome.

It was a tough day for me. I had originally planned on attending The Moth in New York City tonight. Two friends were going to join me for the trip from Connecticut, and I scheduled to meet two more friends in the city.

But bad weather, a less-than-daring friend, an unexpected wake and car trouble foiled my perfect plan, and I stayed home. I had an outstanding story to tell tonight, and it fit the theme perfectly.

And it turns out that there were only 11 names in the bag at tonight’s StorySLAM, meaning my chances of taking the stage would have been outstanding.

This failure to launch did not sit well with me.

Then I received some great news. Perhaps you heard.

1. The Boy Scouts, the organization that changed my life forever but continues to betray its core ideals and basic human decency by refusing to allow openly gay leaders, is seriously considering reversing its position. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. I have often questioned and even criticized people who continue to support religions that promote polices that they personally oppose, and for me, the Boy Scouts have presented me with same kind of problem. While I appreciate and respect all that Scouting did for me as a boy, I find myself unable to support the organization as an adult. Perhaps this inner conflict can finally come to an end and I can once again embrace an organization that in many ways served as my father growing up.

2. Eggs may not be as bad for you as once thought. This is tremendous news for a daily egg eater like me.

That’s it. Two bits of seriously good news.

Not nearly enough to make up for the missed opportunity, but I’m trying to convince myself that it was.

Storytelling coming to Connecticut! Save the date!

I've decided to launch a local storytelling series here in Connecticut, modeled after The Moth, the organization in New York City that hosts the storytelling events in which I compete but absent the competitive element and the random nature of the storytellers.

Basically we are planning an evening of pre-selected storytellers, telling true stories onstage for 5-8 minutes on an assigned theme.

I've fallen in love with storytelling over the past 18 months and would like to create a opportunity for for storytellers like me to tell stories to willing audiences here in Connecticut. While I plan to continue telling stories at The Moth on a regular basis (I’m off to a StorySLAM today). I'd love to do something more local that friends can take part in as well.   

Last week I secured a location and date for the event:

Saturday, May 4 at 7:00 PM at Real Art Ways in Hartford.

Real Art Ways is excited about the event and prepared to support us in any way that they can. They will be publicizing the event to their members and the general public, providing the space and sound equipment that we well need, and have agreed that the event will be free of charge. Beer and wine will be sold during the evening, but otherwise this will be open to the public. The space seats about 75 people comfortably and about 100 jammed in. 

I want us to be jammed in.   

We'll also have coverage from The Hartford Courant and other media outlets where I have contacts, so we should have a good turnout. 

My vision is for this to become a storytelling series that happens 3-4 times a year, with people outside my circle of friends eventually pitching stories for the evening as well. I'd like the first event to be a huge success in order to springboard to future storytelling evenings.

The theme of the night is Beginnings. It's fitting for what we are undertaking and hopefully broad enough for our storytellers to find a story from their lives that applies.

We (my wife and I) are in the process of finalizing our storyteller lineup and deciding upon a catchy name for this event, and once those details are settled, we will publicize this information to you.

For now, please just save the date if you are interested in attending. It promises to be an entertaining evening of storytelling from ten people who are sure to make us laugh, cry and think.

Lessons from my third Moth victory

On Thursday night I was fortunate enough to win my third Moth StorySLAM of my storytelling career at The Bitter End in New York City. The theme of the night was AFTERMATH. I told a story the decisions that my parents made when I was a child and how the birth of my own children has cast those decisions in a new and unfortunate light for me. Following every StorySLAM, and especially every victory, I like to try to analyze my performance in order to glean any lessons or insight that might help me in future competitions.

It was an unusual StorySLAM in a couple ways. First, though The Bitter End was jammed with people, it wasn’t the usual raucous Moth crowd that I have come to expect at these events, perhaps because it was the week following Christmas and the audience was made up of many non-New Yorkers who were in town for the holidays. I suspect that there were a lot of people taking in The Moth for the first time and were not accustomed to the level of enthusiasm exhibited by typical Moth audiences.

It wasn’t a bad crowd. Just a quieter crowd. A little harder to make laugh.

Whatever the reason, the story I had prepared for the evening was not supposed to be funny, so it was probably the perfect kind of story for this particular audience.

It was also the first (and hopefully the last) time that I have heard storytellers call out other storytellers while onstage. It made for a couple of odd and slightly uncomfortable moments, to say the least. The first storyteller attempted to be funny by opening his story with a jab at previous storyteller’s story. The subsequent storyteller then attacked the first storyteller, calling him a douchebag for his criticism. Both remarks quieted the crowd and elicited groans from the people around me.

Another storyteller took the stage and opened by thanking us for braving the cold and the long line, attempting a Kumbaya-like moment with the audience.

I don’t think any of these things helped the storytellers in terms of their scores, nor did they serve to endear them to their audience.

I have always been a fan of getting on the stage, telling the story and getting off. Save the commentary for the host of the evening. That’s their job. Not ours.

That’s exactly what I did when I took the stage, but in truth, luck played a large role in my victory on Thursday night.

First, I was the final person to be called to the stage, which is an enormous benefit to any storyteller. The first storyteller of the night was someone I know well, and her story was outstanding. Humorous and revealing and full of suspense. It should have at least been contending with mine for the win, but because she went first, her chances for victory were exceptionally small.

I’m not sure if anyone has ever won a StorySLAM going first.

I also changed my story dramatically while onstage. On the drive to the city, I practiced my story in the car for my friend, but the story that I had prepared at home and told in the car was vastly different from the one told two hours later in front of the audience. I was fortunate. In the midst of telling the story, I found a couple of surprise transitions that helped propel it forward at a more rapid clip, and I stumbled upon two funny lines that worked very well.

Like I said, I got lucky.

As a storyteller, I feel that there is a delicate balance between being prepared and being over prepared. I’ve taken the stage at The Moth with a story that I have memorized almost word for word and done well, but more often, it seems as if I perform better if I have a general idea of my story, a few moments of planned transition and an opening line ready. By not memorizing the story entirely or even planning every moment of the story, I have more flexibility onstage and a greater opportunity to gauge the audience’s reaction, adjust if necessary and find those surprise moments that often work so well.

Of course, this can be dangerous, too. If I have not prepared enough, I might find myself lost in the story at moments, unable to finish it succinctly.

Like I said, it’s a delicate balance.

Also, for the first time ever, I took note of the location of the judges in the room. The three teams of judges happened to be located in the same general area, in front and to the left of the stage. Knowing that there were no judges to my right, I didn’t turn in that direction and establish eye contact with those audience members as often as I normally would have. Instead, I focused most of my attention straight ahead and to the left, where I knew that judges were seated. I’m not sure if this made a difference, but I can’t imagine that it hurt.

I’m still walking on air following my Moth victory on Thursday night. It broke a frustrating string of four second place finishes and will give me another chance at winning a GrandSLAM.

I love taking the stage and telling stories at The Moth. I feel exceptionally fortunate when my name emerges from that tote bag, allowing me the opportunity to tell my story to a willing audience. If it was not a competition but simply an evening of storytelling, I would still be dropping my name in that bag, hoping for it to be drawn.

But I won’t lie. The competitive aspect of The Moth adds an additional layer that I like very much. Win or lose, I love knowing exactly how I did on any given night. Having spent much of my childhood playing video games, I like to know my score. I like to know where I placed. I like to know if and how I should improve.

The Moth offers that as well.

And when you actually manage to win, you get to walk on air for a few days. Not a bad reward.

Affirmation from a Moth audience is unbelievable. Affirmation from a bunch of kids is damn good, too.

As a second grader, comedian and actor Jamie Foxx was so talented at telling jokes that his teacher used him as a reward.

If the class behaved, he would entertain them.

I don’t know who Jaime Foxx’s teacher was, but I suspect that I would have liked him a lot.

One of the rewards I give students throughout the school year is stories from my life. Most often these stories are about my childhood, but not always. There are also occasional stories about my children, my wife and events from my adult life as well. I will be reading a book aloud to the class or listening to a student tell me a story when I am reminded of a moment from my past, and I’ll say something like, “Oh, that reminds me of the strangest pet that I ever owned.”

“What was it?” a student will ask.

“Oh, you won’t believe the pet I had as a kid. It was amazing. But I don’t have time to tell that story now. But maybe later. When you’re especially productive.”

My personal secretary (a student) will then add the story to the growing list of topics lest I forget, and when my students have been especially productive and achieved their goals ahead of of schedule, I will offer to tell them a story from this list. The personal secretary will review the list and choose one for me to tell.

It’s a five minute reward that my students adore, and it also serves to reinforce the elements of effective storytelling with my kids. Oftentimes I’m also able to embed some meaningful life lessons into these stories, and best of all, I am able to make my kids laugh.

Kids who laugh at school like school, and kids who like school learn more.

It’s that simple.

The strangest pet ever, by the way, was a raccoon. His name was Racket. Perhaps I’ll tell you that story someday.

Of course, you must be a good storyteller in order to make this reward work.

Earlier this year I was telling a story that included one of my fellow teachers, and halfway through the story, he happened to enter the classroom. He heard the story being told, realized that he was an integral  part of it and sat down to listen. A minute later he jumped in to clarify a point and then proceeded to tell his part of the story for himself.

“Stop!” one of the kids said after few moments. “You’re not telling it right. Let Mr. Dicks tell the story. He knows what he’s doing. Just listen.”

Several others nodded their heads in agreement.

And they were right. He wasn’t telling the story right. He was butchering it.

Winning two Moth StorySLAMs and placing second in four others over the past year has been a dream come true for me (actually, the second place finishes have been damn frustrating), but that moment of affirmation from a bunch of ten-year-olds meant just as much to me.

Second place sucks

I competed in The Moth’s StorySLAM last night and came in second place, losing to my storytelling hero, Steve Zimmer, by a tenth of a point.

It was actually an honor to compete against to Zimmer, who was exceptionally gracious in his victory, and I should be feeling good about a second place finish after competing against some of the best storytellers I have ever seen last night.

But last night also marks the third StorySLAM in a row that I have placed second, and in each of those second place finishes, I have lost by a tenth of a point.

In addition, I came in second at the most recent GrandSLAM Championship, losing by two-tenths of a point.

It’s starting to annoy me.

That’s not true. It’s starting to enrage me.

I know that I should be pleased with my consistently strong performance and grateful for my good fortune. I have been telling stories at The Moth for just over a year. I have told stories in six StorySLAMs and have placed first or second in five of the six.

I have also told stories in two GrandSLAM Championships and placed second and third.

I should be ecstatic over my early success, especially considering the number of skilled, talented, and experienced storytellers who I compete against on a nightly basis, but instead, I am just angry that I continue to lose by a smidgen, even when I am losing to my hero.  

My only solace:

In the video below, which features Zimmer, he describes himself as being at least as competitive as me and at least as disappointed as me when he loses. Other storytellers have expressed similar sentiments to me in the past. I may be a petulant, bitter loser, but apparently it is par for the course.

Also, at the time of filming, Zimmer had also placed second in three consecutive StorySLAMs, so perhaps there’s hope.

Maybe I’m simply walking a path similar to that of my storytelling hero, finding my way to storytelling glory. It’s a lousy, good-for-nothing path, but perhaps there is a light somewhere at the end.

If so, I can’t see it yet.

But it’s been less than 24 hours since I lost to Zimmer. Maybe I’ll be less annoyed and more appreciative with time.