Skills of a Lifetime Are Useless: Rethinking Performing

I have a degree in theatre from Northwestern University!

I trained with Rives Collins!

I was mentored by Nancy Donoval, Sue O'Halloran, Beth Horner, Jackie Torrence, Janice Del Negro, Jim May, Syd Lieberman, Donald Davis, Jay O'Callahan, Dovie Thomason and many others!

I know how to read an audience. I know how to find the sweet spot in the story that reaches out and grabs people's hearts.

I know how to approach an audience and find a place where we can build a community together.

I know how to use stories to reach through generational and cultural barriers.

I know how to craft stories for different age groups, and adjust those stories in the blink of an eye if I feel the need to do so.

In the world of a global pandemic, none of those skills matter.

Why?

I didn't train to be a sound engineer!

I didn't train to be a video editor!

I didn't train to be a film director!

I didn't rain to design lights!

I didn't train to be a tech director!

I didn't train to design soundtracks!

I know how to tell stories.
I know how to tell stories to live audiences.

That's what I got.

Unfortunately.....

Yeah, typically it is monkeys, but I like frogs

1. I cannot see my audience.

There could be five, or five hundred people in the audience, and I cannot see them. Even if they are on the screen I cannot see them. I have to focus like a laser on the camera. If I don't, it will look like I"m not looking at anybody.

2. I cannot hear my audience.

So many of my stories are about creating communal sounds, chants, calls, and expressions, that without them, the space around me isn't full of anything. It is very odd.

3. I cannot interact with my audience.

I cannot take a quick poll of a raise of hands, point to someone who is having a particularly good time, laugh with someone, share a quick look with a particular person, or identify someone who is lost or looking confused and bring them back into the fold. In fact, I can't do anything at all when it comes to making individual personal connections.

4. I do not have a cohesive audience.

I am at my home, and every other person is somewhere in their own spaces. They cannot hear or feel or sometimes even see other people listening. They are having their own private little show, and they are not drawn in or carried along by the energy of anyone else in the audience.

I don't have one audience I have twenty or more. Each one encased in their own little room.

5. I am a floating head in a box.

I do not have the full use of my whole body. My movements have to be curtailed, I have to be aware of what the camera sees, blurring effects, my background, and anything that comes into camera view becomes immediately distracting because everything else has been carefully eliminated so as not to be distracting!


Luckily, I am not yet dead. This means I can still learn some new things. Actually, it means I must!

We are all on a learning curve.

Nobody knows what this looks like.

I have been recording stories since the second week of March. I finally got the hang of it in the last two weeks of May.

I have done more reading about lights, and movement, and the camera, and microphones, and Zoom, and Vimeo, and who knows what else in the last three months.

I have joined groups, asked for help, left groups, asked for help, started groups, asked for help, cocooned, reached out, gone into despair, recovered from despair, shouted my defiance, sheepishly apologized for being a jerk, learned programs I never knew existed, spent money I didn't know I would ever need to spend, worked through fear, anxiety, worry, and frustration.

Then, days ago, the world turned itself right-side up.

Everything started humming. I have found peace in the storytelling work.


1.  I imagine the person or the audience. I imagine how they are reacting, and I tell as if they are right there with me.

2. I make space for the reactions that I feel belong there.

3. I interact with them anyway, and anyone watching can play or not

4. Every single audience is having their own personal experience, and that is lovely

5. I am engaging in a form of media that more people have seen than storytelling. If this is a way to introduce them to my art form, then so be it.

Most of my shows are pre-recorded.

I started uploading shows to our Vimeo with password-protected content. The client can access the content and share it, but nobody else can. When their time ends, we change the password, and the show goes back under lock and key.

I felt like I was starting to get the hang of it. Then, on Tuesday, a pop quiz arrived.

One of the services I offer to libraries is a customized intro. They give a shout out to the Friends of the library or something like that. It is a promo that's just for them.

One of the things I figured out how to do was detach the audio from a clip and replaced the image. So, I got this idea.  I recorded the shout out, took out the video, and replaced it with the sponsor's logo.

I was feeling all clever. 

Apparently, the sponsor saw it and decided that they wanted something better. They have their own studio department, and they whipped up a smooth commercial for summer reading, sent it to the library, and said they wanted to replace my "commercial" with theirs.

The library sent me the sponsor's spot, said they could do the substitution. All I had to do was give them the footage of the show.

Our new business model does not allow for people who are "renting" the material to download it.

Two months ago, I would have had to wake up my son and ask him if he could do this. Six months ago I would have taken it to my daughter and asked her if she could do it.

This morning?

This morning I downloaded the commercial.

Went into my back up disc, found the original show, put it back on my laptop

Loaded the new commercial and the old footage into my editing software

Replaced the old commercial with the new one

Downloaded the new show onto my laptop

Went to Vimeo and isolated the video that needed updating

Replaced the old show with the new one without needing to change the link, and finished my breakfast.

My old skills are not much use right now, but my new ones?

My new ones are pretty awesome.

Happy Learning!

The Business Manager: How Do You Manage The Manager?

I am married to my business manager.  Now, in saying this I do not mean that my business manager and I work together so often, and are in each other's lives so deeply, that my husband says I might as well be married to her or him.  No.  My husband is my business Manager.  I often refer to him as The David.

Here we are in our younger, cooler days

How did he become my manager?   Well, thirteen years ago my husband gave up his job as a social worker in the Duke University Hospitals System, and I gave up my job as the full time homemaker and primary caregiver of our two children.

He came home, and I went back on the road.  Eight months after that, he took up the post of business manager.  I will spare you the bumps and bruises of that transition..it would make a good story, though.

Fast forward to a year after he took up the job.  We turned into a C Corp called DLW Storyteller Inc.
It exists separately from us, and has its own life, which is weird.  On March 1, 2015, we will have been a company for twelve years.

Over the last decade, we had to work to figure out what each of us is responsible for in the business.  We've gotten help from Merle Davis over the years.  I understand Paula Lepp, does her bit, Jim May's daughter was in it up to her ears when I first started in this business, Diane Ferlatte's husband picks up the slack, and Ed Stivender's sister manages his work.

Diane Ferlatte

I can't speak to how any of them manage their managers, but I can tell you how The David and I roll.  There are some hard and fast rules we follow when it comes to who does what.  For instance:

1)  I am not allowed to book anything.  I can't even pretend to promise.

2)  I do not handle travel plans.  I can suggest, but I don't make the arrangements.

3)  I do not meet with the lawyers or accountants by myself.  Ever.

4)  I don't quote prices for anything.  Ever.


One might be tempted to ask why there are such strict rules about what the artist isn't allowed to do.  Simple, when control freaks work together, they do not do a good job controlling the same things.

When The David became my manager, I'd already been in this business for fourteen years.  I was used to doing everything a very specific way.  David doesn't think, behave, organize or consider things the same way I do.  Our first year was one fight after another until I finally let him manage the business part of the business.  This was a very hard thing to do.

Saw a bunch of these pithy sayings about letting go.  Chose one at random.  They all apply.

There were many up sides to giving up control of the day to day operations.  I no longer have to worry about lots of time consuming details.

The David:


1) Takes care of targeting, distributing, and managing all of the PR

2)  Books all of the shows and fields all of the phone calls from clients

3)  Works out fees for block booking and sends out the contracts

4)  Responds to the emails

5)  Mails out the education packets

6)  Deals with people who think they want a storyteller when what they need is a magician or other type of performer

7) Consults with people who are putting festivals together for the first time, or who are new to the world of PTA cultural arts representation

8) Works with our accountant

9)  Arranges studio time for recordings

10) Cuts checks for everyone

11)  Manages accounts for the business

12) Does the taxes

13)  Works out where I'm going to be in the world and when

14)  Organizes the number and type of charitable events we do every year

15)  Makes us look good

16) Tracks deadlines for conference submissions, and proposals

Heavens, you might ask, if he is doing all of that, what on earth are you doing?

Me?  I get to be an artist.

1)  I write the PR copy, in fact, I usually write the base for all of the copy that comes out of the company

2)  I write stories

3) I read tons of material both fiction and non-fiction

4) I manage our social media presence

5)  I write non-fiction articles for books, magazines, and blogs

6)  I create workshops, write up their descriptions, create blurbs for them, and teach them

7)  I learn new stories

8)  I go to conferences where I take classes, and do the whole Networking thing

9)  I teach at conferences

10) I keynote conferences, and various other events

11)  I mentor new tellers and confer with colleagues

12)  I write this blog

13) I travel all over the world

14) I do author appearances

15)  Every now and then I show up in Unitarian pulpits

16)  I tell stories


This morning as I was getting into the shower, I was lamenting that Thursdays are my non-fiction day.  I spend the morning creating copy for things.  It is not my favorite way to spend the day.  I prefer fiction or picture books or reading or well, most of the other elements of my job.  The David scoffed at my complaint.

"Oh, poor baby."  He mocked.  "One day of the week where you have to write stuff that isn't fun.  Awww!"  He made a dramatic sigh.  "I've got to go upstairs and write out eight contracts, work on the taxes, and book four hotels.  So, go sit down and commune with your blog while I do the parts of your job that you hate."

I looked at him while wearing my shower cap and nothing else, "My job?"  I replied in melodramatic shock.  "That's your job, buddy."

So, that is the way I describe dealing with a business manager.  

The David describes his job differently:

"The hours are awful, the pay is terrible, and my boss sexually harasses me on the job."

And now all the world knows working with me is hell.

(Originally, I was going to put a pic of a woman in leather with a whip right here, but I just googled those images, and I'm pretty sure I'm not old enough to be seeing material like that, so I chose a lovely picture from Dante's Inferno instead)

For the record, I did enjoy writing the last part.

Happy Working!

Working With Sign Language Interpreters

 

I always enjoy working with sign language interpreters.  There are times when they use signs that I find fit so well in the story I’m telling, that I adopt them as part of my presentation.  Over the years, I’ve encountered interpreters who are old hats at working with storytellers, and others who have never done anything like it, and are nervous.

My earliest experiences with ASL interpreters happened at the Illinois Storytelling Festival.  JimMay was the first person to put me on a main stage anywhere in this country while I was at the tender and difficult age of twenty. (Thank you, Jim).  Donna Reiter Brandwein was the first interpreter I had the pleasure of working beside, and that woman knows how to do it! 

I have had some fun with interpreters over the years.  I do a series of tongue twisters in some of my sets.  The first time through, and during the audience participation part, I go slow enough to follow.  The last time through, my tongue is in peril of being sliced in half by my teeth.  Interpreters seem to enjoy working to get Peter Piper or Betty Boughta out of their hands.  When I start going really fast, they usually just laugh and point to my lips.  I have had times when I'm doing a rapid fire segment and the interpreter has gone with me down to the last word.  At which point, I stop the show and we all applaud for the artistry of it.  

Many of the interpreters I've worked with also enjoy doing ghost stories.  I always wish I could just stop the story and watch them during those tales.  I really, really want to just see what they are doing.  I always look forward to working with interpreters.  In a few years, I'm considering putting a DVD together, and I think I will see if I can have an interpreter on screen with me during the taping.  

When you are working with an ASL interpreter, you are doing a form of tandem telling.  With that in mind, there are things you can do to make sure that both of you have a successful set.

These are the rules of thumb I follow.

Before the set:

1)  If I am working with a school, and I am told ahead of time that there will be an interpreter, I send along a brief summary of all of the stories I might tell, emphasizing words that might be tricky, or repetitive phrases.

2)  If I find out the day I arrive that I will have an interpreter, I try to pull them aside before the set, and give them a verbal summary, emphasizing difficult worlds and repetitive phrases.  I also show them some of the gestures I will be using as well as some of the facial expressions.

  

During the Set:

1)   I acknowledge the interpreters by name to the audience before we begin.

2)   I keep an eye out for the interpreter to make sure she/he is with me.

I moderate the pace of the story so that if the interpreter wants to get into the telling and make it dramatic, they can.  Interpreters tell not only with their hands, but also their entire bodies and faces.  Storytelling, with its vibrant images and intricate language, lends itself to ASL.  I find that even interpreters who were sort of nervous going into the show had a good time with it once it got started. 

At the end of the set I once again acknowledge the interpreters and thank them for their work.

Working with an interpreter is interesting, and can help you grow as a performer.  Dive in, and have some fun!

Happy Telling!

Being A Touring Storyteller Is Like Being Shackled to a Galloping Unicorn: Amazing and Disconcerting.

The odometer on my 2006 Saturn

Before we made this the running around town car last February, I put 256,125 miles on it.  

An itinerate performer’s life is not a stable one.  We travel to everywhere from Miami Gardens, FL to Lima, Peru.  Our daily lives can be described as many things but the word ‘routine’ is not one of them.  This is not such a problem if you are single, don’t have pets, and are not needed for anything in particular in your community.  This becomes much more tricky if you have pets, children, spouses, social obligations, or some kind of side job that requires stable hours.

Pets like to eat and they need attention.  Not so easy if you are gone all the time!

When I went into storytelling twenty-six years ago, most of the storytellers I knew had gone into the field as a second career.  They’d had their children, raised them, and then, in their retirement or second life, they’d become storytellers.  Most of the ones who’d chosen it as a primary career were men whose wives had stepped in to take on the role of stable parent.

Being neither a man, nor old enough to have retired from a previous career, my husband and I had to look at this a bit differently.

I went to my friends for advice about how they dealt with the touring schedule and family.  Jim May, Milbre Burch, and Syd Lieberman gave me invaluable advice about what to expect while touring.

After careful consideration, my husband and I decided upon a simple idea.

My chaotic life could not create chaos for the rest of my family.  We divided up the work in a way that seemed very unfair, but couldn’t be helped.

David anchors the family in place.  He drives the kids to school and collects them at the end of the day.  He volunteers at their functions, goes to their various activities, helps with homework and makes sure that meals are on the table.  He organizes their chore schedules, keeps track of their calendars and plays games with them.  In other words, he took on a major amount of parenting work.

David also took on the role as business manager, PR guy, and personal accountant. 

My job?  Write books, travel the world, create and teach workshops, make recordings, and tell stories.  

Yeah, I know, it is out of print.  Hey, I'm just supposed to write the things!

For ten years now I flow in and out of my family’s manicured life.  I join in when I get home.  I help with the housework, cook, drive the kids around, help with their writing, and stand about being everyone’s cheerleader.  Then, like smoke I vanish for a while. 

When my kids were little, it was a frightening to them when I left.  They had no understanding of time.  When I left and didn't come back right away, they feared I might never return.  As far as they knew, I disappeared into the ether the second the car left. 

We used several things to help our kids cope with this dismay, and incorporate the travel schedule into their lives.

We put a calendar up by the front door.  It was mommy’s travel schedule.  If I was gone, the name of the place was on the calendar and there was a star on the days I would return.  They crossed off the days and could look forward to when I would return instead of feeling that vague sense of discomfort because they didn’t know when I would appear.  Some families put up a map and use push pins so that kids can see where their parents are going. 

Still keep a calendar by the door.  Not as big a deal, but they still like to keep an eye on when I'll be back.

These days you can also Skype and email, but the calendar and the map are tangible ways to help your kids understand the time involved.

Despite our best efforts, there were the plaintive requests from our children that I not leave.  Children, as everyone knows, are not above emotional blackmail, and they are excellent at manipulation and breaking your heart. 

We explained to our children that everyone in the family has something that they contribute.  Daddy was there to keep their lives running smoothly and keep them safe.  The kids were supposed to learn, play, and grow up.  Mom’s job was to make sure we had a house, clothes, food, cars, toys video games and so forth.  If I didn’t travel, we wouldn’t have anywhere to live and there would be nothing to eat.  They accepted that, and if they started getting upset, we would remind them that it was important for me to travel.

Travel isn’t easy for me either.  I miss exciting events, the daily discussion of what is happening in their lives, the discussions that can only happen when I am sitting in the kitchen and they wander through.  I miss teacher conferences, award ceremonies, presentation nights, and project presentations.  I missed the tooth fairy, and birthday parties, and I don’t even like to think of what else I just wasn’t on the spot to experience. 

Still, the reason they do so well is because their lives are such that they only have to worry about homework, getting their chores done, what their friends are doing on the weekend, and planning their future.

My kids with their younger cousins

They are older now and accept that travel is part of my life.  Still, every now and then, when I am preparing for a trip, my seventeen year old gets that sad little note in his voice, as he demands, “Where are you going now?” 

They don’t have to like the fact that you travel, but they do need to understand why you do it.

Being able to make a living as a storyteller is a privilege that not many people have.

When I’m listening to the latest event I can only watch on video, or hear in a retelling from one of my children I remind myself that I am very lucky.

Happy Touring!