Telling Stories
I had a great day on Friday. I spent the afternoon rehearsing, and then in the evening I met up with one of my best friends and we went to a Manchester pub.
I was expecting a small group of people in a grotty pub back room. But I had forgotten how beautiful this particular pub is, and underestimated the popularity of my chosen activity. Even though I took it very seriously and spent a good couple of hours practising, I still thought my audience would be small, and didn't anticipate the stage, and the rows of chairs, and the large room packed out with discerning people.
Nor did I realise that there would be professionals performing before the amateurs took their turn. By the time the opportunity arose for the ordinary folk to have a go on the stage, I was ready to pull out. I could never compete. I'd be a flop. But I'd spent all that time practising...
Ah well, I thought. Serve me right if I have to eat a little humble pie and acknowledge my incompetence. "Excuse me," I said nervously to The Woman With The List, stuttering and swallowing my words. "I was wondering if maybe I could have a little go..."
They were very busy though. I thought they wouldn't be able to fit me in. Except they did.
"The trick is," advised the friendly professional beforehand, "to know when people are getting bored. If they look bored, just stop."
I stumbled up to the stage, started to introduce myself...
...and bloody hell, I think I was as surprised as anyone else. Instead of the nervous newcomer, needing a little encouragement on her first time, the stage worked its magic, the adrenalin took over and I was A Performer again.
I'd forgotten how stages affect me. I'd forgotten how much I love being in the limelight, how well I respond, what a consummate dyed-in-the-bone attention seeker I am.
I sang, I joked, I used silly voices, I watched them laugh and smile and catch their breath and I realised, this is something I can do. Will do, again and again. Will be paid to do.
I'm a storyteller.
Available for weddings, bar mitzvahs, corporate events, whatever.
And bloody hell, it ain't half fun.
___
I was expecting a small group of people in a grotty pub back room. But I had forgotten how beautiful this particular pub is, and underestimated the popularity of my chosen activity. Even though I took it very seriously and spent a good couple of hours practising, I still thought my audience would be small, and didn't anticipate the stage, and the rows of chairs, and the large room packed out with discerning people.
Nor did I realise that there would be professionals performing before the amateurs took their turn. By the time the opportunity arose for the ordinary folk to have a go on the stage, I was ready to pull out. I could never compete. I'd be a flop. But I'd spent all that time practising...
Ah well, I thought. Serve me right if I have to eat a little humble pie and acknowledge my incompetence. "Excuse me," I said nervously to The Woman With The List, stuttering and swallowing my words. "I was wondering if maybe I could have a little go..."
They were very busy though. I thought they wouldn't be able to fit me in. Except they did.
"The trick is," advised the friendly professional beforehand, "to know when people are getting bored. If they look bored, just stop."
I stumbled up to the stage, started to introduce myself...
...and bloody hell, I think I was as surprised as anyone else. Instead of the nervous newcomer, needing a little encouragement on her first time, the stage worked its magic, the adrenalin took over and I was A Performer again.
I'd forgotten how stages affect me. I'd forgotten how much I love being in the limelight, how well I respond, what a consummate dyed-in-the-bone attention seeker I am.
I sang, I joked, I used silly voices, I watched them laugh and smile and catch their breath and I realised, this is something I can do. Will do, again and again. Will be paid to do.
I'm a storyteller.
Available for weddings, bar mitzvahs, corporate events, whatever.
And bloody hell, it ain't half fun.
___
Labels: Storytelling
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