Why I haven't told a story at The Monti's StorySlam in a long time

Enough folks have asked me about my absence from the local StorySlams by The Monti that I thought I'd answer the question here.  Though it would be more interesting to say I had given up in frustration at not winning, or that I was having some sort of feud with the organizers, the truth is simpler and more boring:  with one exception, I haven't been in town during an event in months and months. 

The next one, for example, is this Wednesday, when I'll be in Las Vegas.  My travel schedule this year has been particularly brutal, so I've missed almost all of the events.  The one exception I can recall was an event the day after I landed from Europe, and by the time I noticed it and decided to go, it was sold out. 

I do plan to go back at some point, because I enjoy telling stories in that format, but right now, I have no idea when I will.  I'm home most of December, but then the next two months are chock-a-block with trips. 

I'll try to remember to let folks know here the next time I manage to attend. 

Support oral storytelling: Go to a Monti StorySLAM

I've written about The Monti before, but I wanted to encourage you again to attend one of their shows and support the art of oral storytelling.  You'll also have a fun time listening to stories, having a drink, and maybe grabbing a bite afterward.

I went to one earlier tonight and told a story on this session's topic, "Home."  Alas, I again did not win; this time, I placed second.  The crowd seemed to enjoy my story, though, and I had a good time celebrating, so the experience was its own reward.

Check out The Monti sometime soon.  You never know when you'll run into me there.

Telling a twenty-minute story in five minutes

Last night, I headed over to Motorco in Durham for the Monti StorySLAM event.  The last Monti event of 2013, this one had as its theme "Stranger."  Though I waited too long to buy a ticket and the event sold out, thanks to Gina's email messages and phone calls, the executive director, Jeff Polish, decided he would sell me one ticket on my promise to put my name in the jar as a possible storyteller.  I wanted to do just that, because the theme had reminded me of a bit of new material I wanted to try out for the new spoken-word show on which I've been taking notes from time to time.

I learned all of this a little less than three hours before the event started, however, and I had to work right up to when I climbed into the car to drive there, so I didn't get the planning or rehearsing time I would normally have taken.  I had, though, thought about the bit off and on for a while, so I wasn't totally unprepared.

I had a very good time listening to the stories.  As I did, though, I realized a few things.

First, the audience--a drinking crowd of about 200 in a bar--quite reasonably above all else wanted to laugh.  I should have figured that out, and normally that would be fine for me, but my story was a more serious one.  As I listened to others, I made some mental adjustments to work in more humor.

Those changes, though, led to my second realization:  my story was way, way too long to tell straight-up in five minutes, much less with humor.  As best I can now figure, it'll end up consuming about twenty minutes of a show.

Finally, I realized that because of those two facts, there was no way I was going to win.  Winning the competition obviously would have been nice, but I had come to try out the material, so I stopped thinking about anything other than the story.

After the intermission, I was the first storyteller.  I ran over the five-minute mark but under the six-minute limit, after which you lose points for running long.  The crowd applauded loudly and enthusiastically.

I ended up in third place.  I criticize myself for not doing better, because had I hit on those insights earlier I might have been able to rewrite and shorten the piece in my head, but other than that, I'm fine with the result.  I now know a better way to tell the story, and I also now see how to make this fundamentally emotional story funny and, I hope, ultimately still moving, so I gained from the experience.

I thank Jeff and his team for putting on a good show and letting me be part of it.

Telling the story you want to tell

A while back, my friend, Eric, won a StorySLAM competition at The Monti. Eight people compete. Each goes on stage and tells a story for five minutes. Three groups of judges award them points. The winner is the person with the most points. I didn't get to see the stories that evening, but I did later hear Eric's story online, and he did a swell job with it. (I'd give you the URL, but I can't find it online any longer.)

Earlier tonight, the Monti held its championship event, in which eight winners, including Eric, competed. I was able to attend this one.

I had a grand time. All eight storytellers delivered commendable performances. Humor generally reigned supreme this evening, but a few of the talks, including Eric's, were on the more serious side.

Eric didn't win this time. As I said, humor was in favor this evening, and though his talk contained many funny moments, it also held many serious ones.

Eric knew going in that he was unlikely to win if he told this story, but it concerned something that had just happened, and the event was important to him. He decided to tell the story he wanted to tell, no matter what. He did it well, and he deserved the loud ovation he received.

Any of us who tell stories face choices all the time, and many of those choices have the potential to affect the tales we tell. I don't think it's at all a problem to choose to work in a particular area, such as a genre or sub-genre, but I do believe that when it comes to the actual story itself, you will do your best work only when you tell the story you want to tell. I'm proud of Eric for doing just that, and I'm glad I got to see him do it.