Most storytellers think of a storytelling performance as a conversation or a dialogue they have with their audience.
A quiet place to talk is the most important thing. But every professional storyteller has at least one horror story about a time when this basic need was not met.
A small, soft-spoken storyteller told us about performing at an event where the organizers placed her next to a stunt motorcyclist buzzing around a spherical metal cage. "Maybe they thought I would tell stories between the acts in the Globe of Death?" she said, with a heavy note of doubt. "It's funny to me now."
Another teller is haunted by the time he was heckled by a tough crowd at a music festival. "I was telling stories before a bluegrass band, and the people didn't care about anything except that bluegrass band," he said. "At the very beginning, somebody hollered out, 'What's your point, son?' I had 45 minutes more to go."
One teller described an annual gig he had for Martin Luther King Jr. Day. "They would bring in kids from kindergarten through 12th grade and put them in a room," he said. "Just before I tell these kids a story, they would have workout videos. One that I really hated featured the music of Justin Bieber. These kids are just flying all over the place, and then they shut it down and they're supposed to be quiet and listen to me tell a story about the Civil Rights movement.
"One year, thank god, the venue moved and they didn't have the screen and the distraction. It was like a whole different program. It was magic."
Room for Others
Given our modern lives, with all their distractions, we often have to work to make both physical and mental space for listening to one another. It's one thing to avoid the Globe of Death and its everyday analogues (bustling crowds, shrieking newscasters, excitable children). But making space for other people in the world of a story or a conversation requires intention and craft.
When he creates a story, Adam Booth often uses a multimedia approach to make the material more accessible. A recent piece incorporated paper sculpture, traditional quilting, and choreographed movement to give his audience different sensory "pathways" into the piece. Another layer was that his story, while new and original, was wrapped in the language, symbols, and tropes of traditional folk tales.
Afterward, some people talked to him about the content of the story, which was about magical animals. Others talked about their personal interpretations of that content. And others connected to the material art, talking about their own quilting practice or their love of puppets.
To make a personal story about your past more accessible, storyteller Ray Christian recommends talking about it from the perspective you had then — not now. "When I talk about how I grew up, I tell those stories the way I was thinking at the time that it happened," he says. "So if I was 12 when the story happened, I talk about the way my brain was working at 12. I think it's more relatable for me not to be smart."
Authentic Connections
When we share our own stories — our knowledge, experiences, worries, and dreams — with other people, we are asking them to step into our world, even if it's just for a moment in time. But to prepare for that engagement, we have to allow them to connect to that material in their own way. In conversation, this might be as simple as touching on topics that tend to transcend cultural and ideological barriers, such as food, family, and pets.
Storytellers frequently adjust and customize material on the fly during live performances. The body language of people in the audience, for instance, can be an obvious indicator of when a story isn't landing. In everyday conversation, watch for similar cues. If what you're saying doesn't seem to connect, try a different approach.
The engagement you elicit (or don't elicit) is just as important as the content of what you say. Instead of hammering home a point, consider the possibility of calling it a day. Storyteller Sheila Arnold says, "I learned to watch the audience enough to know when I need to shut up. When they've had enough, they've had enough. You can't undo that. You just have to say: I think it's time. Let me end here."