When I began my first storytelling classes I noticed that every teacher began with a listening exercise. Sometimes, it was turning to a partner and interviewing them and then introducing them to the class from what you learned. Each time, the teacher emphasized the importance of listening. This includes the coaching philosophy that is unique to storytelling, listening instead of criticizing. Most books on how to tell stories, emphasize listening. As a matter of fact, the very first sentence in Mark Goldman's very useful book, “Storytelling Tips: Creating, Crafting and Telling Stories,” Chapter 1, “How Do I Start?” is “ Start by listening.”
I have realized over time, through storytelling, that my listening has evolved into something more nuanced. At first I took listening to mean simply that I needed to listen to other storytellers to make my storytelling better, but as I began to actually tell to audiences, I saw that telling is also listening. For example, it’s true, as our teachers tell us, that in practicing our stories they never really gel until we tell to a live audience and that audience can be only one other person. We need that listener and we need to listen back. A mirror or a video never really does it.
The very first story I told outside of my beginning storytelling class was in a 3rd grade classroom designed to help 3rd graders who were struggling to move on. Most of the students were restless to say the least but one boy in particular could not sit still for more than 2 or 3 minutes. That was why he was seated in front. I wrote a portrait of a girl living during the Dust bowl era. The teacher gave me a very short deadline and I did not feel prepared. For 30 long minutes, I told, expecting the teacher to stop me at any moment, but to my surprise she didn’t because the students sat quietly and listened to every word. As I looked out to my young audience I saw every student listening to me, their vibe guiding me the whole way. Even the boy who couldn't sit still for 3 minutes stayed seated and had his eyes on me the full time. There was no doubt that this story needed work, but also, no doubt that these listeners needed stories.
Many favorite storytelling moments are unexpected and consist of just a few people. One of my favorites, took place in a small town just outside of Luling, TX. My son-in-law Jeff, a minister had been visiting a nursing home where one of his parishioners was living, to lead them in sing a-longs. Since I was visiting he asked if I would do a storytelling concert for them. Luling was also celebrating their annual, “Watermelon Thump,” so I prepared watermelon stories; a couple of folktales and a couple of tall tales. In this demographic, sometimes you can’t tell if people are listening so I worked at letting each person know I was seeing them. My son-in-law’s parishioner was sitting quietly in a wheelchair in the back with her husband at her side. When I began the tall tales her head began to nod and I caught her eye. Afterward, when everyone else had filed out, she and her husband came forward. They had a story to tell me! Even though she had a difficulty speaking, they proceeded to tandem tell me a story. It was a story from their early courting days when they went out one night to raid a watermelon patch, she drove the car slowly up and down the road for a quick getaway while he crawled through the field on his belly. They both were laughing with tears running down their faces, and ours.
Catching an eye, getting a vibe is why storytelling is so powerful. It is cyclical, you send your voice out and your audience sends it back to you. You have to listen well to tell well.
In an article on the blog, On Being, from which I shamelessly copied my title, “You Are Either Listening Or You're Not,” Andrew Forsthoefel, a young man at 22, in search of himself, took a year off to walk from Pennsylvania to California sporting a sign on his back, that said, “Walking to Listen.” He said that one of the most important things he learned from his journey was: “Listening is audacious…even unreasonable at times. It is to choose to love someone—or at least stay committed to the work of trying to understand them—even when they don't give you any reason to.”
I highly recommend the article and the documentary he co-produced about his experience. It can be found here.
The image at the top of the post can be found here.
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