A World in a Grain of Sand

Yes, I know I’m being out of order.

Second Day Introductions: On the second day of the storytelling course, Jackson Gillman started by having us interview a person next to us and then introduce that person to the class. My partner, if she could be any food, would be creme brulee.

Popcorn: Jackson then did what he calls “popcorn” stories—short stories meant to inspire us to share similar stories with our class. I did think of family anecdotes, but I didn’t see how to make stories out of them. For example, my daughter had learned enough Hebrew in school that she was able to briefly ask for directions, but not enough to understand the rapidly spoken, long answer. Is that a story? Yes, I could make it longer, but that’s the essence and it did not support any of the points being made at the time.

Two stories: Jackson told a story about reflexes; it included fencing and his heroic attempt to stop an allegedly moving car and breaking his son’s fall from a high stool. He told another story about picking blueberries with his year-old daughter in Maine. Jackson moves all over his available space, unlike the Storycrafters, who sit when they do their stories.

Single words: Jackson asked us to write down single words meant to prompt us when we tell stories.

Hooks: You have to grab your audience in the first 15 seconds. He asked us to come up with one to three first sentences to a story.

Active listening: Then we were to tell the story itself to one other person (twice). Based on my partners’ feedback, I realized I needed to expand my story from the insight I received while playing volleyball to a series of instances demonstrating my lack of athletic intelligence. Jackson is part of a group of performers who meet monthly to critique each other’s works in progress. We should remember that some criticism are really not about our work but the critic’s own problems.

Two disciplines: Jackson believes in getting there on time and making notes afterwards. He even uses feedback forms: in general, responses are not too hurtful and sometimes they are even useful.

My story: In case I ever decide to tell my sports story, here’s what I learned. I guess I could keep my hook, “the way I see the world is not the same as the way everyone else sees it; in fact, it may not be the way anyone else sees it.” But then I should go for my second hook, “I suck at sports.” The only thing I was ever good at was dodge ball. But baseball, basketball, jacks, tennis, softball throw were either hopeless or I bloomed so late that all the other flowers were long gone. It was when a ball came at me while playing volleyball and I instinctively put up my crossed arms over my head and was told by my teacher that I shouldn’t have reacted that way that I realized that what I thought was a perfectly natural reflex was not seen that way by others. It was a revelation.

A better story: A classmate told a story about his life in Hawaii. He did not include his finding out that a friend of his, who was eight-months pregnant, had died. But his story was filled with contrasts and I think he can add this and have an even more powerful story.

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