My daughter wished me luck before my most recent Moth GrandSLAM performance then promptly retracted it.

I received this incredibly sweet but slightly parroted message from my kids just before I took the stage in Brooklyn to compete in my tenth Moth GrandSLAM last week.

When I saw my daughter the next day, she asked how I did.

“Second place.”

“Again?” she asked. In ten GrandSLAMs, I’ve only won once and finished in second place seven times. Apparently my six year-old daughter is aware of this. She shook her head in disgust.

“I don’t know why I wish you good luck.”

Sleeping with goats on The Gist

I had the pleasure of appearing on The Gist this week. Host Mike Pesca interrogated me about my life story, and we talked about how you can take a life event and craft an interesting story from it. I talked about sleeping with goats, shotguns to my head, and being arrested and tried for a crime I did not commit. You can listen here or subscribe to The Gist in the iTunes music store or click on the Soundcloud link below:

This was my second appearance on The Gist. My first, in case you missed it, was a couple of weeks ago.  

The purpose of these appearances is to discuss storytelling. In addition to these discussions, we are taking story pitches from Gist listeners, and one lucky listener will have the opportunity to work with me on his or her story, with the goal of taking the stage and telling the story at a future storytelling event. 

If you would like to pitch us a story, listen to the episode for details.

Speak Up is two years old! It began with a snow day and a simple question to my wife.

Speak Up, the storytelling organization that my wife and I founded in 2013, is approaching it's two year anniversary. It was born on a snow day much like the one we experienced in the northeast earlier this week. 

My storytelling career began about five years ago with the discovery of The Moth’s podcast. A friend introduced it to me, and soon after, other friends began telling me that I should go to New York and tell a story. I’ve led a life filled with unusual moments and unfortunate disasters, so my friends thought The Moth would be perfect for me.

But taking the stage in New York and telling a story to 300 strangers was daunting to say the least. Frankly, I was afraid. So I assured my friends that I would go to a Moth StorySLAM someday but had no intention of ever doing so.

Then I had the idea of starting my own storytelling organization here in Hartford. I thought that telling stories in front of a handful of friends and family would be less intimidating than 300 hipster strangers in lower Manhattan. I was excited about this idea. I thought it could be something that Elysha and I did together. 

Then I didn’t do that, either.

Eventually, I couldn't look myself in the mirror. As daunting as it might be, I hated the idea of saying that I would do something and then not doing it. I resolved to go to New York, tell a story, and be done with it.  

On a hot July evening in 2011, Elysha and I went to New York. Packed into the Nuyorican Poets Café with 200 New Yorkers, I dropped my name in The Moth’s tote bag (always referred to as “the hat”), and began my storytelling career.

In truth, I dropped my name into the bag and immediately began praying that I wouldn’t be called. Putting my name into the hat at a Moth StorySLAM was good enough, I told myself. I tried. I could go home with my head held high.

And I thought my prayers were about to be answered. Nine storytellers had taken the stage, and my name had yet to be called. One more name would be drawn, and I would escape from New York unscathed.

Host Dan Kennedy opened the sheet of paper, stared intently at it for a moment, and then called my name. Except I didn’t write my name clearly, so he mispronounced it. I didn't move. If I sat very still, I thought, maybe they would pull another name, and I wouldn’t have to get up.

Then Elysha kicked me under the table. “That’s you,” she said. “Go!”  

I did. I took the stage and told my story. Dan Kennedy took a photo from the stage that night. This was my view as I told my story:

You can actually see me in this photograph. Left side near the wall. Black shirt. White graphic. Only guy with his hands not raised. Looking terrified.

This is the story that I told:

When the final scores were tallied, it was revealed that I had somehow won. 

Two years later, after in February 2013, I was home with Elysha. It was a snowing outside and school had been cancelled. We were sitting at the dining room table, pounding away on our laptops. Since that first night in July, I had competed in eight more StorySLAMs. I had three more wins under my belt. I was in the midst of a streak of six wins in a row and 11 our of 14. I had competed in two Moth GrandSLAMS. I had delivered two TED Talks and told stories for Literary Death Match and The Story Collider.

The Moth had changed my life. I felt like a real storyteller. A good storyteller. I was ready for a new challenge.

I looked up from my laptop. Looked across the table at Elysha and said, "You know, we should do that storytelling idea in Connecticut. Right?"

"Yeah," she said. "We should."

A friend had mentioned that Real Art Ways might be the perfect spot for a show, so on a whim, I called. I spoke to Will Wilkins, Real Art Ways’ Executive Director. "Well, it's snowing today," he said. "No one's here. Why don’t you come down now?"

I did. About an hour later, Speak Up (still without a name or any storytellers save myself) was born. Will had given us the date for our first show and suggested that we find a name for our organization as soon as possible. Good advice. That would come about a week later on a ride home from Elysha’s parents house. While brainstorming ideas, I said, “How about using an imperative. A command. Something like Speak Up?”

“That’s it,” Elysha said. “Speak Up.”

We had found our name. 

Our first show, in April of 2013, featured eight storytellers. All friends who we knew could tell a good story. We didn’t listen to their stories beforehand or work with storytellers back then (and thus had two stories about trips to Greece told back-to-back), so every story was as much of a surprise to us as the audience. That was fun. We’ve since learned that it makes for a better show when we take the time to listen to our storytellers’ stories and help them with their fine tuning. We’ve learned a lot in the three years that I have been telling stories, so we share this wisdom with our storytellers before they take the stage. 

When we arrived at Real Art Ways that night, the woman in charge asked us how many chairs to put out.

“Well, we have about eight storytellers,” Elysha said. “And they will all probably bring a guest. And we might get a few more people might come. So maybe 40?”

The woman laughed. “We’ll put out 90.”

Good thing she did. We had a standing room only crowd of about 125 people that first night, and we have been selling out shows ever since. There were about 250 people at our last show, and I didn’t know most of them. In those early days, our audiences were primarily our friends. Now some of our most devoted fans are people who I have never actually met.

We’ve produced 12 shows in the two years that we have been running Speak Up. We have established partnerships with The Mount in Lenox, Massachusetts, Kingswood Oxford School in West Hartford, and just this week, The Connecticut Historical Society. Speak Up will be featured at this year’s Connecticut Storytelling Festival. We run workshops for people who are interested in telling stories, and I have taught classes on storytelling in libraries, high schools, colleges, and universities, including most recently Perdue University and The University of Connecticut Law School.     

       

I had no idea that all of this would happen when I peeked over my laptop and said to Elysha that “we should do that storytelling thing in Connecticut.” But our lives have changed completely and forever because of it.

It's a good reminder that the best way to start something is to start something. Think less. Move fast. Figure things out along the way. And find a good partner.

I meet far too many people with big dreams and grand ambitions who spend too much time worrying about how to make them happen instead of making them happen.

Move. Create forward momentum. Take a risk.

Storytelling on The Gist

If you’re not already listening to Slate’s The Gist, the daily podcast hosted by Mike Pesca, here’s another reason to do so:

I’ll be appearing on The Gist as a part of a new project that seeks to teach the art of storytelling to listeners. Whether you are telling stories at a dinner party or the water cooler or on the stage, our goal is to explore how stories are found and crafted and perhaps help people become more engaging and interesting conversationalists.

In addition to all that, we are accepting story pitches from listeners, and one lucky person will have the opportunity to work with me to perfect their story and ultimately perform it on stage. 

You can listen to the first episode here, or by subscribing to The Gist in iTunes, or by listening through Soundcloud here.

My segment begins at the 9:40 mark.

How I teach storytelling

I did an interview with Jim Levulis of WAMC public radio on storytelling, and specifically, the teaching of storytelling.

If you’re interested, you can listen here.

My Story of the Day exercise will change your life. I promise. And you'll find a bunch of stories in the process.

Slate editor Allison Benedikt sent the following tweet around the holidays. Julia Turner, who was referenced in the tweet (Benedikt may actually be quoting her) is Slate’s editor-in-chief:

@juliaturner "You live your life. Most days are pretty much the same. You forget most things you’ve done. Then it’s over." Happy holidays!

This tweet struck a chord for me.

For more than a year, I’ve been teaching storytelling workshops as part of Speak Up, the storytelling organization that my wife and I founded in 2013. In addition to the many things that I teach to storytellers, I spend a great deal of class time sharing strategies for generating new story ideas.

There is one exercise in particular that I love. In fact, whether you are a storyteller or not, this exercise can change your life forever. No joke.

Before I go to bed each evening, I sit down in front of my computer for five minutes and ask myself this question:

“If I had to tell a five minute story onstage about something that happened to me today, what would that be?”

Then I review my day, seeking out that one defining, possibly story-worthy moment. Oftentimes the moment is unspectacular. Hardly story worthy at all. But more often than you might think, I manage to find an actual story in my day.

It’s rarely a great story. Most of the time, it’s not even a good story. But it’s a story. Something that made this day different from the rest. Something possibly worthy of telling someday.

And sometimes, I find a great story. Something that I can’t wait to tell. More often than you might expect.

Once my story of the day has been identified, I record it in an Excel database, usually with a couple sentence fragments of description. Just enough detail to remind me of the story later on.

This is different than writing in a journal or a diary every day. Journals and diaries do not demand that you find stories. A diary or a journal entry can reflect a person’s thoughts and feelings for the day, but they do not require the purposeful search for story. They do not insist that the person seek a defining moment from every day of their lives.

It’s these defining moments that make all the difference. It’s the process of recording the stories of our lives that can change your life.

It's changed my life.

Suddenly my days are no longer “pretty much the same.” No longer do I forget most of the things that I have done. Every single day of my life now contains the kernel of a story, and about once or twice a week, those stories are good enough to move over to my official database of story ideas, which currently stands at 194 items.

194 potential stories to tell. 194 stories good enough to tell.

I have no more forgotten days.

A storyteller who I adore once asked me why he never hears me repeat a story onstage. With 194 possible stories waiting to be told and a constantly growing list, why would I ever repeat a story?

At this rate, I'll never get through the list that I already have.

Since I’ve been teaching this strategy to my students, I’ve witnessed some incredible results.

About a dozen of my students continue to do this exercise everyday. Twelve is honestly a pathetic number. I’ve probably taught more than 100 students over the past year, so my percentage of students committed to the process is low. But this process requires a commitment. It’s a five minute commitment, but for some people, even that is a lot.

More importantly, it also requires a great deal of faith.

You have to believe that the process will ultimately yield results. You have to believe that the five minutes spent each day are worth it, even after days when the best you can do are story ideas like these:

I make dinner. Hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. The only dinner I can actually make.

Taught Clara about the Rolling Stones while lying in bed with her. She likes the way Jagger dances.

Walked dog at 2:00 for the second straight night. Snowing.

These entries will probably not make good stories. If Clara turns out to be a Rolling Stones fan someday and we attend a concert together, perhaps the entry about her and the  Stones will become relevant, but it’s unlikely.

But I remember each one of those moments clear as day.

I remember cooking my wife hot dogs and macaroni to surprise her after an especially hard day.

I remember lying in my five year-old daughter’s bed, listening to Satisfaction and explaining the difference between The Stones and The Beatles.

I remember the snow starting to fall as I walked around the block in my slippers, trailing my dog. It was cold and quiet, and I felt so lucky to be out there to see the first flakes, despite the hour.

Those days are not lost to me. They will never be lost to me.

The dozen or so people who continue to record their daily stories do so religiously. We have become a cult. All report that the process has changed their lives. Comments from my former students include:

“I’ve always wanted to meditate but was never able to. But this I can do. It’s like a form of focused meditation. I see so much from my day that I would’ve forgotten.”

“I’ve discovered that I have stories. I lead a more interesting life than I ever knew. I can’t believe it.”

“I feel like I’m a more important part of the world now. I feel like my story is a part of a bigger story.”

“I’ve learned so much about myself and recovered so many stories from my childhood through this process that I had forgotten.”

This is also true. By sitting down and reviewing your day, searching for a story worthy moment, the door to the past often swings open and memories long since forgotten are suddenly pour through.

Looking for stories? Follow this process every day for the rest of your life.

More importantly, do you want to change your life? Do you want your days to matter? Do you want to recall the moments of your life that mean so much in the moment but are lost so easily?

Take my advice. Commit to five minutes every day.

Alison Benedikt (or perhaps Julia Turner) was not wrong. "Most days are pretty much the same. You forget most things you’ve done. Then it’s over."

Don’t let that be you.

I have 15 jobs. So you probably require my services in one way or another.

As the New Year approaches and the endless possibilities of the coming year loom on the horizon, I always like to take a moment and reset my current occupational status, in the event that you or someone you know will require my services in 2015.

While occupations like teacher and writer seem like fairly obvious inclusions on the list, there are also several less obvious jobs on the list that may seem a little silly at first, but let me assure you that they are not.

Many people thought it was silly back in 1997 when my friend and I decided to become wedding DJs, even though we had no experience, equipment, or knowledge of the wedding industry whatsoever. We simply declared ourselves wedding DJs, bought a pile of equipment that we didn’t know how to use, and began the search for clients.

Nineteen years and more than 400 weddings later, we’re still in business.

The same could be said about my decision to become a minister in 2002. Or a life coach back in 2010. Or a professional best man in 2011. Or last year’s declaration that I was a public speaking coach. Or last week’s announcement that I am now a presentation consultant.

All of these positions have either become profitable ventures or at least received interest from potential clients.

The lesson: If you want to do something, just start doing it.  

So here is a list of my 14 current occupations and an explanation of my services. I hope I can be of service to you in 2015. 
______________________

Teacher. Sorry. I’ve got a job teaching already, and I love it.

But in about four years, a partner and I plan on opening a one-room schoolhouse for students grades K-5, so if you’re looking for a school for your child at that time (or looking to donate money to build the school), contact me.

Writer: In addition to writing novels, I’ve also written a memoir, a book of essays, a rock opera, a tween musical, and a screenplay. I’m also the humor columnist for Seasons magazine.

     

I’m always looking for additional writing gigs, in particular a regular opinion column and/or advice column, so if you have a writing job in need of a good writer, contact me.

Wedding DJ: My partner and I are entering our 19th year in the business. We’ve have entertained at more than 400 weddings in that time. We’ve cut back on our business in recent years, ceasing to advertise or even maintain a respectable website. Almost all of our business these days comes through client or venue referrals, as we prefer.

If you’re getting married and need a DJ, contact me. 

Storyteller and public speaker: I deliver keynote addresses, inspirational speeches, and talks on a variety of subjects including education, writing, storytelling, productivity, and more. I’m represented by Macmillan Speakers Bureau.

I’m also a professional storyteller who has performed at more than 60 storytelling events in the last three years and has hosted story slams for literary festivals, colleges, and more. I’m a 15-time Moth StorySLAM champion and GrandSLAM champions whose stories have appeared on The Moth Radio Hour and This American Life.

If you need someone to entertain, inspire, inform, or emcee, contact me.  

Founder and producer of Speak Up: My wife and I produce a storytelling show called Speak Up. We are based in Hartford at Real Art Ways with additional shows at venues throughout the region, including local schools and The Mount in Lenox, MA.

If you have an audience that would be interested in storytelling, or you’re a storyteller looking to pitch a story for one of our shows, send an email to speakupstorytelling@gmail.com.

Minister: In the past ten years, I’ve married 13 couples and conducted baby naming ceremonies and baptisms. I’ll be marrying two more couples in 2015.

If you’re getting married and are in need of a minister, contact me. 

Life coach: In the past four years, I’ve worked with four different clients, assisting them in everything from goal setting to productivity to personal relationships to career development.

If you’re looking to make changes in your life and become a happier and more successful person, contact me.  

Tutor: I tutor students in grade K-12 on everything from general academics to college essay writing.

If you’re the parent of a student in need of academic support, either regularly or occasionally, contact me.

Storytelling and public speaking coach: For the past two years, I’ve been teaching storytelling workshops and coaching storytellers on an individual basis. People often take my workshops in hopes of performing in storytelling shows and competing in story slams, but they also take these workshops to improve job performance, enhance communication skills, and get their friends and family to finally listen to them.

My real mission is to eliminate the scourge of PowerPoint from this planet, one story at a time.

If you’d like to improve your storytelling, public speaking, and/or communication skills, send an email to speakupstorytelling@gmail.com and get on our mailing list. 

Writing camp coordinator and instructor: Last year my wife and I launched Writer’s Abroad, a four week long summer writing camp for students ages 11-16. We had an outstanding inaugural season and plan on an even better second year in 2015.

If you are the parent of a child ages 11-16 who loves to write and/or could benefit from four weeks of intensive writing instruction designed to improve skills and inspire writers, this camp may be for you. Contact me.

Presentation consultant: Since posting about this position a week ago, I have heard from two people who have expressed interest in hiring me for their fairly new companies at some point in the future. I may also have the opportunity to take on a partner in this business.

If you are a person who delivers content via meetings, presentations, workshops, etc. and would like to improve your communication skills, contact me.

Professional Best Man: Since posting about this position on this blog in 2011, four grooms and two reality television producers have inquired about hiring me for their weddings and television shows that are wedding related. Geographical constraints forced me to reject all their offers thus far. I am still awaiting my first gig.

Productivity consultant: Since posting about this position on this blog in 2013, I’ve had one inquiry about my services.

If you would like to become a more productive person in your personal or professional life and are willing to make changes in order to achieve this goal, contact me.

Professional double date companion: Since posting about this position on this blog in 2011, I have had no inquiries. That does not mean the job is a failure. Just that it has yet to succeed.

If you’re dating someone for the first time or have been on several dates and need that important second or third opinion on the person in question, contact me.

Professional gravesite visitor: Since posting about this position on this blog in 2011, I have had no inquiries. That does not mean the job is a failure. Just that it has yet to succeed.

If you have a gravesite in Connecticut in need of visiting, contact me.

I have a lot of stories to tell. More than you could ever imagine. I suspect that Bill Murray would understand why.

Bill Murray on the Howard Stern show:

Howard Stern: "Who teaches you to tell a story? Is it something you are born with?"

Bill Murray: "No, I don't think you're born with it. You have to hear stories and you have to live stories. You have to have a bunch of experiences and be able to say 'Here's something that happened to me yesterday....' And if you can make people laugh by telling them what happened to you, then you are telling the story well. So that's what I learned in improv.... But you have to live to have the stories. You need the experiences.

I couldn’t agree with Bill Murray anymore.

The part of his answer that resonated the most with me was the idea that you can ask yourself what happened yesterday, and if it was the right kind of day and you choose the right moment from the day, you may find yourself with a great story.

I teach my storytelling students how to generate stories from their everyday lives, and while many of my former students have gone on to become accomplished storytellers who perform at shows like The Moth and Speak Up, the part of my workshop that so many people find most valuable is the training they receive in finding and nurturing stories from their own lives.

At the conclusion of a recent workshop, one of my students said, “I feel like I’m a more important person in the world now. I don’t see myself as living day to day anymore. I see my life as a series of stories inside one bigger story.”

I admittedly got a little weepy when she told me this.

Another storyteller recently said in regards to finding stories in her life:

“It’s like I can see the air now.”

Since I began storytelling a little more than three years ago, I have told more than 40 different stories on the stage. Only a handful of times have I repeated a story on the stage. Almost every time I take the stage at The Moth, Speak Up, or any other venue or show, I am telling a new story for the first (and quite possibly the last) time.

This is because my list of story ideas (kept on an Excel spreadsheet in an insanely organized and data-driven way) currently stands at 178.

My storytelling students and my fellow storytellers think that 178 is an impossible number. An insane number. They assume that most of the ideas will not result in good stories. Many think that I am simply throwing everything at the wall, hoping for something to stick. 

This is not the case.

Proof:

One of the things I do in workshops is allow my students to randomly choose an idea from the list so they can watch me begin to craft the story onstage. It’s an awkward and difficult process for me, not having a plan of any kind before beginning to speak, but my students have found this extremely helpful when it comes to crafting their own stories. It’s the closest I can get to allowing my students into my brain to see how I work, and the process has been extremely well received (even though I kind of hate it). 

I’ve done this many times over the course of the past two years, and my students have never found an idea on my list that I wouldn’t make a good story.

I’ve also won 15 of the 26 Moth StorySLAMs in which I have competed over the last three years, and I’ve finished second in seven others. I’m not trying to brag but rather demonstrate that despite the large number of stories that I’ve told and that I have yet to tell, I’m not telling duds.

I’ve just got a lot of stories.

Part of the reason for this is my ability to recall my past, including my childhood, in great detail. I have a very good memory.

Part of the reason for this is the exceedingly unfortunate, unusual, and difficult life that I have led.  

My wife credits my long list of stories to the way that I view my life through the lens of story.

Regardless of how you view life, how well you can recall the past, or how eventful (or uneventful) your life has been so far, I believe that if you use the strategies that I teach and class and practice my exercises regularly, you will find a multitude of interesting stories in your life.

And when you find and cultivate these stories, even if you have no intention of every taking the stage to tell them, I think my former student is right:

You will feel like a more important part of this world. Your life will gain weight and heft. You will better understand the amount of gravity that you exert upon your environment and the people around you.

You need not be a storyteller to enjoy these blessings.

A bungled MVP presentation demonstrates a truth about storytelling. Also, I’m available for hire, Chevy. And you need me. Desperately.

As part of Speak Up, our Hartford-based storytelling organization, my wife and I teach storytelling and public speaking to large classes, small groups, and individual storytellers.

After watching the Chevrolet’s Rikk Wilde present Madison Bumgarner with the World Series MVP trophy, it’s clear that he could use our help.

It turns out that Chevy received far more attention for his bungled presentation. The video went viral and resulted in national coverage of the presentation and appearances for Wilde on late night shows like Letterman and Fallon.

But you don’ want to rely on a poor presentation going viral in order sell trucks.

I’d be happy to help. For a fee, of course.

This moment also illustrates something that I tell my Speak Up students all the time:

Nervousness is your friend. As long as you’re not so nervous that you can’t speak (which nearly happens to Wilde), nervousness can be endearing. It can make the audience instantly love you and want you to succeed. They root for you from your very first word.

Nervousness is a signal to an audience that you are one step away from being one of them. It could just as easily be you sitting in a seat, listening instead of speaking. That is a powerful connection that can serve a speaker well.

A storyteller who I greatly respect once told me that my greatest challenge in storytelling is my lack of nerves. “No one loves you when you start speaking,” he said. “You stand there like you own the place. So you have to have a great story every time.”

I think there’s some truth in that statement. I also think it’s why Rikk Wilde was so embraced by the American public. People could see themselves in Wilde. They presumed that they might perform similarly in the national spotlight. It made Wilde appear authentic and endearing.

In the end, it all worked out. Chevy got more press than it ever expected. They probably sold more trucks as a result.

This time.

But still, it would be nice for Chevy’s public figures to be able to speak easily and extemporaneously at times, too.

I’m waiting for you to call, Chevy. I’m ready to help.

My story was featured on The Moth’s podcast this week. I still get goose bumps.

I was thrilled to learn that one of the stories that I told at a Moth StorySLAM in Boston last year was featured on their podcast this week. I’ve seen a much younger version of myself on The Moth’s homepage once before, but it’s very much like seeing one of my novels on a bookstore shelf.

I still can’t believe it.

Five years ago, I started listening to The Moth’s podcast after a friend recommended it to me. She thought that I might have stories to tell someday. I spent two years listening to the podcast, reveling in the stories told by people who I thought were gods.

I still do.

Three years ago, I went to New York and told my first story. I thought it would be my last story. I thought I was simply checking an item off my lifelong list of things to do.

Tell a story at The Moth. Move on.

Twenty-five StorySLAMs and 13 victories later, The Moth and storytelling have become as important to me as any of my creative endeavors. I’ve told stories in eight GrandSLAMs, two Main Stage shows, and my stories have been featured on the Moth Radio Hour twice. I’ve told stories for many other organizations since then, including This American Life, and my wife and I have launched our own storytelling organization in Connecticut.

Yet I still can’t believe that my story is on The Moth’s podcast again this week, alongside storytellers who I still think of as gods.

You don’t get to rub elbows with the gods very often. The Moth has given me the chance to do so routinely. I am fortunate enough to know some of the finest storytellers in the world through my work at The Moth. Truly some of the finest people who I have ever met. I have the opportunity to stand on the stage alongside giants and tell stories to the best audiences that a performer will ever know.

I still get goose bumps every time I do.

I got those same goose bumps upon seeing my face on The Moth’s homepage this week. It all started five years ago by listening to amazing stories piped into my ears.

This week my own story will be piped into people’s ears.

If it happened a thousand times, I still wouldn’t quite believe it.

The Moth: Secret Bedroom Move

The following is a story that I told at a Moth StorySLAM at The Bitter End in New York City in 2013. 

The theme of the night was Space. I told a story about secretly moving my bedroom to the basement when I was a child.

I finished in second place.

The Moth: The Cardboard Knight

The following is a story that I told at a Moth GrandSLAM at The Music Hall at Williamsburg in 2014. 

The theme of the night was In Your Face. I told a story about a childhood battle with a not-so-nice cat.

I finished in second place.

The Moth: No Santa

The following is a story that I told at a Moth StorySLAM at Housing Works in New York City in 2014. 

The theme of the night was Secrets. I told a story about my discovery that Santa wasn’t real and more.

I finished in first place.

Speak Up: Storytelling Workshop launching

We are launching a new advanced storytelling workshop next week, and there are still spots available for those of you who are interested.

Details below.
______________________________

Our storytelling workshop focuses on the storyteller's actual performance. You are not required to attend a beginner's workshop, but please know that much of our direct storytelling instruction takes place in the beginner's class.

Every participant will be expected to tell at least one story during the course of the six classes (and hopefully more). We will also be dissecting audio and video of stories from The Moth and other storytelling shows, and I will tell a story at each session and discuss how the story was "built." I will also "work out" stories on the stage (unprepared , allowing for a peek into the initial creative process (as uncomfortable as that may be for me!). 

This advanced workshop is designed so that anyone who has taken an advanced workshop already can take this workshop again and expect entirely different content, since the stories will always be different, and the lessons taught are constantly changing. This is being done to meet the request of previous workshop attendees who would like to take another class but felt that there was nothing left for them.

It will also result in a much more interactive workshop, with greater opportunities to participate. 

Following each story will be an extensive critique in a friendly, non-threatening, low-stakes environment that targets story construction, performance, and revision. We will also focus on self-critique and the critiquing of one another, with the goal being to develop better analytic skills.   

Additional goals include:

• Formulating anecdotes and story kernels into fully realized stories
• The continued development of humor, suspense and high stakes in a story
• The effective use of loaded language
• Revision for time constraints
• Shorter, spontaneous storytelling opportunities

The first five sessions will be taught by me, but Elysha will join us for the last session to bring her considerable revision and critique talent to the class.  

The dates for the workshop will be September 2, 16, and 30, as well as October 7, 14 and 21. Workshops are taught at Wolcott School and will make use of a stage, a microphone and stage lighting in order to allow for practice in an authentic environment. 

The cost of the advanced workshop is $225. 

If you're interested in attending, please send us an email and we will register you for the classes. First come, first served. We only allow for eight participants at a time, so once I have eight confirmed attendees, the workshop is closed. 

I won a Moth StorySLAM, and that wasn’t the best part of the night. Seriously.

I won a Moth StorySLAM at The Oberon Theater in Cambridge on Tuesday night. I managed to win from first position, which isn’t easy.

I’ve won 13 Moth StorySLAMs in the last three years, but I’ve never won after having to go first. Few storytellers do. I was excited. Thrilled, even, But winning was not the best part of the night for me.

Given my extreme competitive nature, this is really saying something. 

Three of my friends joined me at The Oberon on Tuesday night, and two of them, Plato and Tom, put their names in the hat and were fortunate enough to take the stage and tell a story.

They performed brilliantly. They told great stories. Their stories were so good, in fact, that Plato finished in second place, just a few tenths of a point behind me, and Tom finished in third, a few tenths of a point behind Plato.

I was impressed with their performances. A little proud, even.

Both Plato and Tom began their storytelling careers at Speak Up after Elysha and I asked them to tell a story. Tom told a hilarious story about meeting his wife for the first time, and Plato has told a number of stories for us, including one at our very first show.

Last night was the first time they took the stage for The Moth. I suspect that it won’t be the last.

Plato and Tom are not my only friends who have taken the stage to tell a story. Since I began introducing my friends to storytelling (shortly after I began doing it myself), many of them have performed at Speak Up, and a handful have told stories at a Moth event.

I’ve also watched people who complete my storytelling workshop go on to tell stories at Speak Up and even compete in Moth StorySLAMs. Many of them assured me that they were taking my workshop for reasons other than performing and swore that they would never take the stage. Despite their initial protestations, a large number of them have gone on to tell stories for Speak Up, and a few have even ventured into New York and Boston and competed in Moth events as well.

People who never dreamed of standing on a stage and performing have become seasoned storytellers who can’t wait to tell their next story.

Introducing friends to something new, assisting them in honing their skills, and then watching them perform and compete is more rewarding than I would have ever expected. That’s how I felt on Tuesday night, watching Plato and Tom perform on stage.

In many ways, I was also returning favors.

Eight years ago, Tom bought a set of golf clubs for $10 at a garage sale, dropped them into my car on a snowy, December afternoon, and thereby launched my golfing career. Golf has become one of the greatest loves of my life. I’m still a terrible player, but I would play every day if I could. I’ve even written a memoir about the game. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Tom changed my life when he dropped those golf clubs into my car that day.

Back in 1999, Plato decided to take a chance on an inexperienced teacher, fresh out of college and rough around the edges, who many administrators viewed as a wild card. He hired me when others would not and thereby launched my teaching career. I have been teaching in that school ever since.

Our school was the place where my occasionally unorthodox teaching methods were embraced and my creativity was rewarded. I was permitted to become the teacher I am today thanks in large part to Plato’s leadership and guidance. It was also the place where I met my wife, Tom, and many of the closest friends.

My life would be very different had Plato not taken a chance on me that day.

Introducing them to storytelling and watching them compete for the first time was a small way of repaying them for all that they have done. It was a joy. It’s well documented that after the first person in a family graduated from college, others in the family, who never dreamed of attending college, will follow. Once the ice is broken and the impossible is made possible, people are willing to give it a try.

My success with storytelling has served a similar role for many of my friends. Once I started taking the stage, others have followed. It has been so much fun to watch.

Watching Tom and Plato perform so well on Tuesday night was truly reward enough. The fact that I won the slam was great, but honestly, it was icing on the cake.

Delicious icing. Satisfying icing. Well deserved icing. But still, not nearly as rewarding as watching Tom and Plato standing behind that microphone, under those bright lights, telling their story.

My first date advice: Tell stories.

TIME’s Eric Barker reported on what science says are most appropriate and beneficial topics of discussion on a first date.

My first date with my wife wasn’t a declared date. It was dinner at Chili’s before we attended a talent show at the school where we both worked. It would be months before we would officially begin dating, but that hour spent talking over fajitas and guacamole sewed the seeds of our mutual attraction.

In truth, I thought my wife was perfect long before we started dating. Too perfect, in fact. I thought she was utterly and forever unattainable. I loved her long before she loved me, but I didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance in hell that I would ever date her.

You can’t imagine how often I still pinch myself when I see her sitting across from me, my wife and the mother of our children.

I told stories at that first dinner. I told her about my two near-death experiences, the armed robbery, my arrest and trial for a crime I did not commit, and my troubled, difficult childhood. I’m normally an excellent listener, but I remember talking a lot that night and sharing parts of my life in ways I never had before.

Maybe it’s because we weren’t on an official first date that I shared so much, so soon. I’m not sure.

Whatever the reason, it worked. Elysha and I had been colleagues for almost three years and friends for the previous two years, but that night at Chili’s was when things began to first change for us.

When asked about what first attracted her to me, it turns out that it wasn’t my devilish good looks, rapier wit, or undeniable sense of humor.

It was my stories.

She says that in listening to my stories, she came to realize that my life was so different than anything she had ever known before, and it was in the midst of that bit of storytelling that she began to see me as something more than just a friend.

I’ve been storytelling on the stage for three years now. I first took the stage at a Moth StorySLAM in July of 2011. In the short period of time since that first performance, storytelling has changed my life. I have found something I love and something I do well. I have met new and amazing people, and I am proud to call many of them my friends. My stories have been heard by millions of people around the country on the radio and podcasts.

But it turns out that long before my success with The Moth and the launch of Speak Up, storytelling helped me win over the smartest, finniest, prettiest girl I know. A girl who I thought was out of my league.

Eric Barker of TIME advises (based upon his review of the research) to talk about travel on a first date and avoid discussions about movies. He suggests leaning toward controversial topics and sharing a secret if possible. He points out that an even balance between talking and listening is ideal. He recommends asking your date if he or she likes the taste of beer if you hope to get lucky that night.

Me? I say to tell stories.

I used this strategy once in my life, and it resulted in one of the happiest days of my life.

The payoff for a writer or a performer is an infinitesimal sliver of the job. Too many forget this and aren’t willing to do the work.

Saturday was a good day for me.

It began with the first performance ever of “Caught in the Middle,” the tween musical written by writing partner, Andy Mayo, and myself. It was produced at a performing arts camp in Bloomfield, Connecticut, and like our previous musical, The Clowns, I fell in love with the show while watching it performed on stage.

   

Then Elysha and I left for New York so I could perform in The Liar Show in the West Village. I told a story about my unfortunate participation in a bachelorette party in a McDonald’s crew room when I was 19 years-old.

A friend was kind enough to comment on how much I had going on that day. “It must be exciting to have so many creative things going on in your life,” she said.

It’s true. Days like Saturday are exciting, but they come with a cost. When I talk to fledging writers, storytellers, and other people involved in the arts, I’m always quick to remind them that days like Saturday are few and far between.

They account for about 1% of the job.

The other 99% of the job is a lot of hard, tedious, and lonely work.

“Caught in the Middle” was more than a year in the making. It involved writing, collaborating, rewriting, revising, and more rewriting. It was hundred of hours spent crafting scenes, integrating music, developing characters, and agonizing over plot. My writing partner, Andy, had to poke, prod, and cajole me to continue working.

It wasn’t easy.

My invitation to perform in The Liar Show was the result of almost three years of storytelling, including more than 40 appearances at The Moth and other storytelling shows and the launch of our own storytelling organization, Speak Up. Thousands of hours of work have made me the storyteller I am today and gave me the opportunity to perform on Saturday night.

I didn’t happen overnight.

I was reading Billy Crystal’s memoir, Still Foolin’ ‘Em, and learned that in order to pursue his career in comedy, he became a stay-at-home father in a time when that was exceptionally rare. When his wife arrived home from work in the evening, he would join her for dinner and prepare his set for later that night, sometimes writing and sometimes rehearsing.

Then at 10:00, he would embark on an hour long commute to New York City, hoping for a spot on the stage at Catch a Rising Star before 1:00 AM so that he could perform his ten minute routine.

Then he would return home by 2:00 or 3:00 and begin the routine again at 7:00 when his daughter awoke and his wife left for work.

Billy Crystal did not become the entertainer and star that he is today because he was talented. He worked exceptionally hard, made enormous sacrifices, dedicated his life to his dream, and was smart enough to marry a woman who supported that dream.

By the way, he sacrificed to find the right woman, too. He transferred colleges as a sophomore, leaving Marshall University, a baseball scholarship, and a chance to play the game he loved at the college level for Nassau Community College and later New York University after meeting his wife and knowing that a long distance relationship would probably not last.

Rather than risk losing the woman of his dreams, he gave up baseball to chase her down.

The man understood how to make sacrifices.

So yes, Saturday was a great day for me. I loved watching something that I had written performed onstage. Hearing my words in other people’s mouths is always thrilling and makes me want to write for the stage again.

And yes, performing alongside the likes of Ophira Eisenberg, Tracy Rowland, and Matthew Mercier at The Liar Show was thrilling, too. Simply being asked to perform in this popular and well-reviewed show was an honor.

But it was a long, long road to Saturday’s payoff. Many, many miles.

Too often, I think that writers, performers, and other people striving for a career in the arts see those 1% Saturdays and dream the dream, forgetting about the 99% (or worse, glamorizing the 99%) that is required to make those Saturdays a  reality.

The best moment on Saturday for me was a simple one. Standing off to the side, watching these teens and tweens perform the show, I caught sight of my daughter, sitting in the audience, watching my show with rapt attention. Bopping her head to the music. Smiling. Leaning forward in anticipation. Laughing at my jokes.

This was better than all the applause I received that day.

 

Moth victories are so much better with my septuagenarian hipster in-laws in attendance

On Monday night, I competed in a Moth StorySLAM at the Bitter End in New York City.

Joining me was my wife, a friend, and my in-laws, Barbara and Gerry.

I can’t tell you how happy I am that Barbara and Gerry were in attendance.

Barbara is in her late sixties. Gerry is in his early seventies. As I note their ages, I am astounded, as I always am when I reflect on how old they are.

Barbara and Gerry run an eBay business. They are both as proficient with computers and technology as anyone I know. Barbara is a savvy marketer, salesperson, and social media guru. Gerry’s photographs of their merchandise (shot in the studio that he built in their basement) are so good that clients have accused him of using stock photos of their merchandise rather than actual photos of the items they are selling.

These are two people in their seventh decade of life, running an online business that continues to support them and serves customers around the world.

But it shouldn’t be surprising, because despite their age, Barbara and Gerry live their lives like people half their age. When I started telling stories for The Moth three years ago, they were quick to make the trek to one of the Moth’s many venues to see me perform. They have attended many Moth events since then and have become enormous supporters, promoters, and fans  of The Moth, Speak Up and live storytelling in general.

Attending a StorySLAM means driving into the New York or Boston. Fighting traffic. Standing in a line for nearly an hour. Squeezing into a bar or bookstore amongst a standing-room-only crowd. Staying out late. Trying something new.

I have so many friends who think of these factors as barriers to attending a Moth event. Or anything new, different, challenging, or logistically complex.

In many ways, Barbara and Gerry live their lives like people 40 or 50 years their junior, while some of my friends in their thirties and forties are already living life like sedentary septuagenarians. 

Barbara and Gerry are the models of the kind of person I want to be at their age.

It’s also great to have them watch me tell a story and compete in a slam because it’s not something that my parents have or will ever see.

My mother passed away before I ever published a book or told a story onstage. And to be honest, even when I was growing up, my parents never attended any of my baseball games, basketball games, marching band competitions, track meets, Boy Scout camping trips, or anything else.

I was a district pole vaulting champion, and my mother never even knew that I was a pole vaulter. She thought that I was a long distance runner.

Since moving out of my home at 18, I have lived in more than 1o different homes and apartments. Nether my mother (when she was alive) nor my father have ever visited me once.

I’ll never understand why.

Having Barbara and Gerry watch me perform and compete doesn’t make up for the absence of my parents in my life, but it’s a taste of what could have been.

What should have been.

It’s a hint of what it’s like to have parents supporting my efforts and taking great pride in your accomplishments. Before I had my own children, it was easier to dismiss my parents absence from my own life. Rationalize it. Minimize it. Now that I have kids, that has become impossible. I can’t imagine what my parents were thinking. I can no longer fool myself into believing that it wasn’t a big deal.

It was a big deal. It’s still a big deal. Barbara and Gerry can’t replace my parents, but they offer me some of the things that I have missed over the years.

Their interest and investment in my life and what I do means so much.

I won Monday night’s StorySLAM, earning my first perfect 10 from one of the teams of judges. When I took the stage as the winner at the end of the night, my very first thought was of my wife and her parents, and how happy I was that they were there to see me perform and compete.

I’ve won 12 Moth StorySLAMs over the past three years, and while every victory is thrilling beyond belief, it’s always so much better when my wife and her parents are in attendance.

A therapist once told me that one of the reasons that I am so driven is to earn the attention of my parents, even though my mother is gone and my father will never offer the support that I may seek.

This may be true, but I hope not. I’d hate to think that I am driven by something I can never achieve. But there is probably a small part of me yearning for my parents to witness my success and celebrate my achievements, as impossible as that may be now.

Barbara and Gerry are not my parents, but they are a close second, and I felt incredibly blessed to see them wedged into that corner seat in The Bitter End on Monday night, watching me perform.

Speak Up tickets, dates for upcoming shows, and a writer's workshop launch

For storytelling fans, and Speak Up supporters, some news for you today. 

First, tickets for our next show, Saturday, July 19 at 8:00 at Real Art Ways in Hartford, CT, are now available. You can click this link to purchase tickets or call Real Art Ways directly at 860.232.1006.

Please order soon if you plan on attending, as we tend to sell out early. 

We're also pleased to announce our remaining Speak Up dates for the year, so that you can mark your calendars and perhaps pitch us a story. 

September 27 at Real Art Ways. The theme of the night is Coulda Shoulda Woulda. 

October 18 at The Mount in Lenox, MA. The theme of the night is Love and Marriage. 

December 6 at Real Art Ways. The theme of the night is Reunion. 

Also, By demand, we will be launching writer's workshops starting in August for interested writers.

Similar to our popular storytelling workshops, our writer's workshop is specifically for interested writers who are looking to launch a writing career, improve their writing skills, receive feedback from a professional writer and teacher, develop a work in progress, prepare a non-fiction pitch, or simply find an engaged audience who is willing to listen and provide feedback for their work. 

Whether you want to make your fortune writing the next great American novel or simply improve your ability to string together coherent sentences, this may be for you. We've modeled our workshop on a series of successful workshops conducted by a fellow author and friend who works on the Connecticut shoreline. 

The workshops will be held in our home. We'll put out snacks and drinks each week before food is good for thought and makes people happy.

We'll keep the group small, 4-6 writers per six week session, so we can be sure to devote the appropriate amount of time on each writer's work while also having time to teach mini-lessons and model good writing. 

Workshops will run from 8:00-9:30 on Monday evenings. 

Dates for our first session are August 11, 18, 25 and September 8, 15 and 22.

The cost of each 6 week session will be $175.  

If you're interested in joining us, please let me know.

Hope to see you all at Speak Up soon!

Speak Up at The Mount!

Elysha and I are thrilled to announce that we are taking Speak Up on the road for the first time!

The Mount, the former home of famed novelist Edith Wharton, has asked us to bring Speak Up to their location in Lenox, Massachusetts, for a show on Saturday, October 18 at 8:00 PM.

The show will feature 5-6 storytellers, telling stories in a slightly longer format than a typical Speak Up performance. Wharton’s original stables have been converted into a performance space that seats just over 150 people, and we plan on filling it with people who love storytelling.

The following day, we will be teaching a storytelling workshop from 9:00-1:00 in Wharton’s home.

We realize that if you are living in the Hartford area, it’s a long way to travel for one of our shows, and we expect the vast majority of tickets to sell to people living closer to The Mount, but if you’re interested in spending a weekend this fall in the Berkshires, you may want to make Speak Up a part of your trip.

Details on the storytellers who will be taking part in the show and ticket information will be publicized as soon as things are finalized.

For now, save the date if you’re interested in joining us that weekend for what promises to be an amazing evening of storytelling!