I have good news and bad news for you, friends. The bad news: I can’t teach you to “be a storyteller.” The good news: You already are a storyteller, though you may not know it yet. What I can teach you is how to find a good story, some tips for making it your own, and suggestions for how to deliver that story to your audience.

You think you aren’t a storyteller? You tell “stories” every day, you just don’t call them that. Since mankind first spoke a word aloud, people have talked in “story.” It’s a natural part of our language patterns. Now, it’s true that you may not ever become a “professional storyteller,” but you don’t have to do that. Storytelling can enrich your life whether you want to share stories with your children, regale your friends at parties, thrill the scouts with a ghost story around a campfire, get across ideas to co-workers, or simply feel more comfortable speaking in front of people.

If you think you would like to try it, this is the first part of a series about storytelling. Before I begin, I want you to do one thing: Give yourself “permission.” That’s right. Do not think to yourself, “I can’t do that.” Think, “I am a storyteller.”

Some of you have told me, “I wouldn’t be able to memorize a story!” Good! That’s not what I want you to do. It’s true that many of the ancient bards, griots, and senaches learned epic tales and passed them down through the generations word for word. More often just “regular” people, like you and me, hear a story and use our imagination on it. We change the story into words that “fit our own mouth” and tell it. That’s one of the reasons that there are so many variants of the “Cinderella motif.” Nearly every culture has a version of the story, because storytellers changed the story to fit their own culture. Unless you are using a story to teach about a culture or time, you have permission to change it! Make it yours; then it will be much easier to remember.

The first step is to define just what a “story” is. It’s a sequence of events involving a character(s) who has a dilemma to resolve. It’s a picture painted with words. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end (which is the hardest part for most storytellers to remember!). You do not have to “paint” your characters to the last detail, but give the audience enough of a description that their own imagination can take your words and form an image.

You have some advantages when telling a story out loud, as opposed to writing it on paper:

1) You do not memorize; you know the sequence of events. If you memorize that story and “hit a slick spot,” you may not be able to stop the slide. As long as you know “what happens next,” you can improvise if you forget how you wanted to tell it. That’s how many “new” stories are born.
2) YOU are the storyteller. Any way you tell the story is “the right way.”
3) As opposed to writing, you have more “tools” than just the words. You have your face, your body language, and most importantly your voice.

Purists will tell you that “storytelling is relating the story without the aid of props or costumes.” Hogwash! I don’t use either, but I’m not opposed to it, if it doesn’t get in the way of the story. I once told a group of children a Japanese story about a “magic fan.” It wasn’t until I got to the end of the story that I discovered they were visualizing an “oscillating fan”, because they had never seen a “paper fan.” I bet they didn’t get much out of that story!

Can you think of a story you might like to tell? I hope to give a bibliography later in the week of good sources for “folk tales.” Most of the stories I tell are re-written folk tales (because they are in the public domain) or stories that I wrote myself. Keep in mind as you choose a first story that it should be rather short, with few characters. Give yourself a chance for success! Most audiences have a relatively short attention span, and you don’t want to have to remember too many details the first time out of the gate.

Once you find the story you want to tell:

1) Read the story from beginning to end several times.
2) Read it out loud so you can “taste” the words.
3) As you read, visualize the characters and the setting. See the action in your own mind. You have to see it yourself in order to describe it to someone else. I like to think of a story as a film clip. If the characters remind me of someone I know, then I’m seeing that person acting out the story as I read it. Some of my friends would be very surprised to know what story they “people” for me!
4) Put down the book, and from your own memory write an outline of the story (or create a “web” if that’s what you learned to do in school). Some storytellers I know draw a cartoon comic strip instead.
5) Once you have completed your outline, refer to the written story to make certain you haven’t left anything out that is crucial to the plot.
6) For me, this is the point when I start telling the story to myself. I’m an “aural” learner. If I hear me telling the story, I retain it. Sometimes in the beginning of my career, I recorded the story on audio tape to help myself learn it. Other people learn by writing it down in their own words. You have to choose what is the correct way for you. [At some point, you will want that story either recorded on tape or written so that you don't "lose" it from your memory.]

If you are wanting to tell, you have your “assignment.” Find a story you want to tell and start learning the sequence of events in the story. I will work on updating my bibliography for anyone who wants some examples of stories [HINT: the 398.2 section, or "Folktale Section,” of your local library or your children’s bookshelf is a good place to start]. Keep dropping in to visit. I plan to give you some hints on personalizing your stories and then on actually “delivering” them to the audience.

Please do not be reluctant to ask questions or comment. If there is no give and take between us so that I can help you, then you might as well be reading a book from the library.

Technorati Tags: Folktale

On a recent school visit to share my stories, a teacher timidly approached me. “As soon as I saw you,” she said, “I knew you were the one. When I was a kid, a storyteller came to our school; I didn’t remember her name. I’ve always remembered the story she told about The Stingy Greedy Man in the Moon. Last week, I told the story to my son and he loved it, too. That storyteller was you, but you had long hair back then.”

Yes, and I was twenty years younger, too! She was kind enough not to mention the wrinkles I have acquired. I was speechless, which isn’t good for a storyteller. I didn’t care that she didn’t remember my name; people rarely do. “Famous storyteller” is an oxymoron (just like “jumbo shrimp” and “military intelligence”). There is no such thing. However, it pleased me that she remembered the story. It reminded me again of the magic and the power of the spoken word.

I’ve talked to y’all about storytelling before, but I haven’t expounded on it much. Since ancient times, people of all cultures have used storytelling as a teaching tool. Many of the old stories entertained, but also contained morals which showed the boundaries of good behavior within the culture. In the old Trickster tales (you might be familiar with Br’er Rabbit), the “bad guy” always got his comeuppance. Stories also held the history of a people (think of the “begat”s in the Bible) and explained “why” things happened.

All of you are aware that it’s important to read to your children. If we read aloud to children, we can instill in them the love of reading. To me, it’s important that we tell stories to our children. The simple act of making eye contact as one tells seems to actively engage the listener in the story.

Telling stories to children helps them learn to understand the sequencing of events, to predict outcomes of situations, to develop memory skills, and to enhance problem solving ability. When children are told stories, they develop language skills and can learn new vocabulary. Hearing stories, children develop a greater attention span and learn to use their imaginations. Children can learn about other cultures, other times in history, and other people as they hear stories. By listening to stories, children can learn to appreciate the beauty of the spoken word.

Many long years ago, before I was a storyteller, I read stories to my two boys. There was one book that they liked in particular. It was called But No Elephants. I don’t recall the author, or even the plot anymore. We had to read it night after night, and they had it memorized word for word. They couldn’t read yet, but they darn sure knew when to turn the page. One night, my eyes were tired, so I just started telling the story from memory. My oldest said, “Mommy, that’s not how it goes!” I said, “Son, I’m telling the story tonight, and since I’m the storyteller, it can go anyway I want it to go!”

After that night, we decided to start making up stories at bedtime. We had an elaborate set of stories that we “wrote” together about Grandpa Wog and Grandma Mog who had two young “caveboys.” They lived back when the dinosaurs roamed [forget about "history" folks, they were into T-Rex back then]. Those caveboys were named after my own little fellas, and they had adventures in a time machine. We brought them into the future and told about how they were amazed as they encountered cars and televisions and such. The boys did most of the telling of the stories. It was amazing how their imaginations developed after that. Unfortunately, we didn’t write the stories down, so we have only the memory of telling them together. Not long after that I decided to become a storyteller, and we wrote a lot of stories together.

Do y’all tell stories to your children and grandchildren? You don’t have to be a “professional” storyteller to be effective and engaging. If you’d like to try, but are feeling timid, come back Saturday and I’ll have some tips for you about telling stories. In the meantime, find a story you think you would like to tell (make it short and simple for the first time). We can have you feeling comfortable about sharing stories in no time flat. You might be surprised to find that you enjoy it.

Technorati Tags: storytelling, teaching tool

Imagine a bundle of energy packed in a 5′8″ frame, with a shock of almost orange hair, a face covered in freckles, and a laugh that starts as the sound of a chicken cackling over a newly laid egg and ends as a donkey’s bray. If you’ve got that in your mind, it’s the storyteller Finley Vance Stewart.

Fin’s life was extinguished in a fire that engulfed his home in 2003, when he was only 41. I still have trouble believing he is gone. He was my friend, my mentor, my confidante, and the little brother that I never had. There are days that melancholy sweeps over me when I think about him. I ache to answer the phone to hear him say, in a sing-song voice, “Shelly, Shelly, Shelly. You were always my favorite.” That phrase was always followed by some ridiculous new request he had for me.

Last night, my head was full of thoughts about Fin. I decided I want to share a story, a tale from Texas that I first heard from him twenty-some-odd years ago. I don’t tell it the same way he did. As all storytellers do, I put the story in words that “fit my own mouth.” But the essence of the story came from him. Keep in mind, if you read it, that the story flowed through my fingers this morning as I told it out loud. With a written story, I don’t have the normal “tools” I use as a storyteller: my voice, my facial expressions, my body language. I don’t have a clue if it comes across the same way on the page. It’s long, and I just can’t condense it, so I apologize for that. It’s a tale from Texas, a Native American story, a love story, and a ghost story all rolled into one. And, it’s on this page to honor the memory of “my little brother.”

SERENA, OF THE RIVER

Serena was her name. That will tell you something of her beauty. For Serena was the most lovely young woman of the Comanche tribe. Her eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky; her hair fell to her waist like a river of black water. It was so black that in the sunlight it shone blue, like the raven’s wing. Her skin was flawless and the color of sand on the river; her teeth were as white as freshly fallen snow. Serena’s smile was a gift, which all of the young men of the tribe sought. Each of them wanted to make her their wife, but she could not marry so many.

So they held contests of strength, running, racing, shooting the bow and arrow, to show Serena that they would make the best husband. She watched the games, but she would not speak to the young men. They brought her gifts when they came back from the hunt: venison for her fire; skins to make her clothing and her home; feathers, shells and brightly colored stones with which to adorn herself. She took these gifts, but still ignored them.

Serena was like many of us. She did not want what she could easily get—she wanted what she could not have. What she wanted was one particular young man of the tribe. He was the bravest of the hunters. He was also the smartest, the strongest, and the handsomest. But, this man ignored Serena, which served her right.

In her sadness, Serena took to going to the creek each day to bathe in the clear water. Then, she sat on a stone beside the creek combing out that blue-black hair while singing mournful love songs that echoed in the hills around. One day, as she sat singing, the water at her feet began to bubble and swirl. From out of the depths of that creek there arose a huge and ugly catfish. Serena knew it was no catfish—it was a shaman, a medicine man, a shape-shifter.

That catfish shaman rose upon his tail in the water and laughed a horrible cackle that rang from the hillsides. His eyes glimmered with evil, his whiskers twitched, and with his muddy lips he began to speak, “You want the hunter? I can give you the hunter, if you will do one favor for me.”

Serena fell to her knees in the water, “Please,” she said. “I will do anything to buy his love.”

“This, then, shall be our bargain,” bellowed the catfish. “I will give you the hunter. I will make him love you and marry you. But, in return, one night each month—the night of the full moon—you will come to the banks of this creek. You will wade into the water and be transformed into half-fish, half woman for the night. In the morning, you can return to your hunter.”

Serena thought about this. This was an ugly thing, but it was not too big a price to pay to buy the man she truly loved. “I will do it!” she cried.

The catfish shaman danced on the water and laughed saying, “One thing you must remember, Serena: If any human ever sees you in your half-fish, half-woman form, you will remain in that form for all eternity and you will be mine!”

The catfish dove into the water and disappeared. Serena stumbled up the banks of the creek. When she lifted the flaps of her tent, she saw that her home was filled with gifts. They were from her hunter! He did love her; he wanted to marry her; and he paid her father a bride price that well matched her beauty.

Serena and her hunter were married and they were very happy together. But, once each month—on the night of the full moon—Serena secretly crept from their bed to go to the creek. She waded into the water and became half-fish, half-woman for the night. One night, she waded into the water, and her body was transformed. Suddenly she gasped in pain! A fish hook that had been left dangling in the water had caught upon the scales which now covered her leg.

Serena sat upon a stone in the water, trying to pull the fish hook out. But, if you have ever had a fish hook caught in your flesh, you know that because of the barb on the tip the more you pull, the deeper it bites. Each time she pulled, Serena screamed in pain.

In his bed, her hunter awoke, for he had heard his wife’s cries and though it was in his dream. Confused from sleep, he looked around for her—but she was not there. Knowing that his wife loved the river, the hunter wrapped himself in his sleeping robe and walked out in the night toward the water. But there on a stone in the river he saw a strange sight. It was half fish! It was half woman! It was disgusting! It was Serena!

He called out her name. She looked into his eyes, and in that moment Serena felt her blood run cold for all eternity. In that one moment, Serena learned something we all must know: True love cannot be bought. It must be freely given and freely received.

Serena dove beneath the waters of the creek, and was never seen again by The People. But, The People will tell you this: “If you go to the banks of the creek on the night of the full moon, you might hear her mournful love songs echoing in the hills or the ugly laughter of the catfish.: And, the Comanche People will tell you that the ice cold tears of Salado Creek are fed by the ice cold tears of Serena.

[ If you are a storyteller and wish to tell this story, please feel free to do so. But, please tell it in words that fit your own mouth, and give credit where it is due.]

For my little brother Fin, with love. Shel

Technorati Tags: Finley Vance Stewart, story, Texas, love story, ghost story, SERENA, Salado