Two Recommendations for Long Oral Stories

I’ll make this quick, the two long stories I have told most often are both by Simon R Green, an author whose work I have enjoyed immensely.

The first book of his I told was “Blood and Honour“, a little gem. Blood and Honour is the story of an out of work actor who has to impersonate the king and ends up saving the kingdom. It is fantasy and has no real resemblence to the grandaddy of these yarns, “The Prisoner of Zenda” – another great yarn but a pig to tell.

It has one POV and starts out as a journey story; along the way to the kingdom the protagonist has at least one humoungous encounter with a monster. This device (meeting monsters) does not make it a horror story, rather it allows for the gradual unfolding of the hero’s character to be told. The end segment is a bit messy when the magic goes really off the scale but the main premise – for me – is still strong. A hero overcomes bad, bad people (things) and true love comes through.

The second novel was Blue Moon Rising, again by Green. This book is an absolute gem in the fantasy genre and I heartily recommend it. I was suprised how well it translated to the oral format, a lovely tale to unfold. One of the key facets of Green’s writing in this book is his sense of humour. There is a sequence where the hero must battle a dragon in its cave in order to free a princess – all pretty much run of the mill. Except Green has the princess being a royal pain in the butt and when the hero challenges the dragon “Release the fair maid or face my righteous wrath…etc etc” the dragon responds by saying “TAKE HER! PLEASE!” My audiences just loved this skewed look at the genre and Green delivers this on and off through the story without it becoming a laugh fest. It is still a tale of heroism, doing the job, standing up for the right.

It was just a fluke that the tales I told were both by Green, for me they worked. His other works did not but these two have that essential rhythm that a storyteller needs – I can remember telling these stories and knowing when I could embellish or wander away for a bit and then when the tale had to hit another checkpoint. I can’t explain it any other way than to say they just sounded right.

And that finishes this series on Oral Storytelling. I hope you have enjoyed them and have perhaps seen a bit of the art and joy behind telling a story this way.

It’s an art anyone can do and I encourage any adult, especially a parent (DEFINITELY A DAD) to have a go.

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Suggestions for a Huge Story

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

Having butchered the classics (see my post on the Iliad) I now move on to discussing how to choose a story which is suitable for oral retelling. At least for me.

Whenever I read a book I  walk around trying to recount it in my head; we’ve all done this and you may be familiar with that moment when you discover a flaw in the logic of the story. When reading the written word these flaws can be concealed by good writing. Sometimes we forgive the author because it’s not big deal on the page.

But when you run through a storyline in your head you may find yourself thinking “Why did the protagonist do that?” Or words to that effect. When that happens, and you cannot answer the question, then you should ditch that story.

Some examples from film: B grade horror movies showing the heroine walking down a dark alley after learning that there is a monster/murderer/tupperware salesman on campus. We hit our heads and say “You idiot!” But we can forgive it in a movie because a certain level of stupidity is part of the genre of Horror films. (I’m generalising, sue me).

If you are doing an oral storytelling session someone, usually a spotty youth sitting two rows back and dribbling, will ask “But why did they do that? That doesn’t make any sense!” Kills the mood and breaks your bond with the audience.

And if you decide to explain why she walked down the alley (it was because she was …I dunno…locked in a cupboard when she was three and had to eat melted ice-cream) then you derail the story. Kiss of death.

So, my suggestion is – stay away from most crime and horror stories. Horror can be done but if it’s done well it is TERRIFYING!!! What do you want to do at the end of the session, send your audience out into the night after telling them of murderous axe wielders/ghosts/used car salesmen? Not a good way to finish a session.

And crime stories, for me, tend to fall a bit flat at the end when the villain is discovered. I’ve done a few Sherlock Holmes stories but the audiences sometimes ask questions or offer suggestions for the detective. Such fun.

You see, I reckon the end of a good oral storytelling session should leave the audience with shining eyes, faces aglow with wonder and a deep sense of contentment – everything turned out the right way. Good triumphs against overwhelming odds; love conquers all, that sort of thing.

Tomorrow I will discuss, very briefly, two novels that have worked like a charm for me.

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The Iliad

This post is one of a series on Oral storytelling.

As I replied to a mate, I have told the Iliad as an oral storyteller the same way a high school performs Shakespeare. It was recognisable but missing a lot of the majesty. And I’m doing a disservice to High Schools here – I’ve seen some superb perormances, an especially notable one of Midsummer Night’s Dream comes to  mind. But that’s another story.

Back to the Iliad. I wanted to tell it because it is one of the biggies, it is such a crucial element in the weave of western culture. My first translation was a copy from The Great Books of the Western World, a very good version except for  some of the repititiveness in describing battles ;”and his armour rang rattling around him” can wear a bit thin as description after 30 or 40 repititions.

And because it has such credentials as an oral tale I felt that I could (should) be able to do it.

Ah, me. Hubris.

Yes, I told the story and – like the vicar’s egg – it was good in parts. But I did not get the same sense of satisfaction for myself or for my audience as I had expected. The audience appreciated  the tale and enjoyed hearing the saga but I knew that I had not done it justice. I’ve only told it the once and that is a flaw, an oral story needs a few goes so that the teller knows which bits to lean on – I was overawed by the undertaking.

Could I do it again? With some prep, yes. Do I want to? Probably not.

Telling a long oral story means knowing its rhythm in your bones, knowing how the pieces fit together. A good oral story is one in which this rhythm is obvious to the teller (not necessarilky the audience). Knowing this rhythm in fact helps the storyteller in remembering what to say, a bit like singing a song. You know those songs where you can sing the first few lines and then have to go “tum-te-tum-te-tum.”  The rhythm tells me that there should be something happening in the “tum-te-tum-te-tum” parts of the story and if I don’t know that bit I go and read/learn it until it comes out like the song. this is the prep – standing in front of a mirror and speaking the high points of the story, knowing that you have the ability to add in the colour later. 

Well, that’s enough for now, I just needed to explain about the Iliad and telling it orally. I’m glad I had a go but it was a little like teaching a pig to sing- not a waste of time but it certainly annoyed the pig.

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HUGE stories for oral storytelling – techniques part 2

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

Single POVs are best for huge stories but let’s spend a moment disucssing multiple POVs (POV means point of View and is the writing community’s term to describe how a story is told. We’re dead cool.) Let’s talk about POVs and selecting a story – and understand that I get sidetracked easily so we’ll be lucky to cover this ground.

With a single POV the narrative is linear, easy to keep the mental checkpoints in place. A checkpoint is a feature of the story which must be told, it drives the story forward, all stories have checkpoints but just telling those strips away the majesty of the story. The rest of the telling is how we travel from checkpoint to checkpoint.

Case in point: The Iliad – let’s kill this sucker with poor techniques, using only checkpoints.

1. Paris (a Trojan) steals Helen (wife of Menelaus, a Greek). Big M is seriously miffed and gets his boss Agamemnon to assemble a mighty army of Greeks including all the ancient world heroes. the heavy hitters include Ajax and the Gold standard warrior – Achilles.

2. Paris is in trouble with the family for kidnapping. Hector, the elder brother, realises he has to carry the can when the Greeks arrive.

3. Greeks arrive, lots fights. Agamemnon upsets Achilles with poor people skills. Big A goes off and sulks.

4. Hector goes nuts on the Greeks, slaying mightily. Achilles sulks until one of his mates (not a good warrior) dresses in his armour and impersonates the Big A. Hector sees him, single duel, Hector wins but feels cheated when the impersonation is discovered. He thought he’d done the big guy in. Achilles is, to put it mildly, really upset and goes ballsitic.

5. Achilles goes nuts on the Trojans. Big duel between Achilles and Hector, Big A wins and does disgusting things to the body.

6. Trojans refuse to surrender. Greeks stymied. Much talking.

7. A clever plot is hatched, the Greeks build a giant horse and leave it as a gift for the Trojans. Inside horsie is Achilles and his picked band. The Greeks sail away (it’s a ploy! nudge, nudge, wink, wink)

8. Trojans take the wooden horse into the city, that night Achilles and his boys pop out and open the gates. the Greeks have meanwhile sailed back and enter the city.

9. Trojans are slaughtered. Paris dies. Helen rejoins original husband.

10. End of story. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.

There you go, takes ten minutes to tell, tops.

Do you see what I’m getting at? Most stories, when boiled down to the checkpoints, are dull. The craft of the storyteller – oral, written or film – is to tell the tale in an interesting, -nay, fascinating – manner.

I have told the Iliad and it’s a bit of work, I couldn’t do it now without some serious groundwork. It has different POVs as well as hauling a lot of historical baggage (it’s the Iliad!!!) but – and you need to understand this – this story has been told for thousands of years. Thousands! First recounted in about the ninth century BC. It’s a good story.

There you go, the best way to choose a story for oral telling is to CHOOSE A GOOD STORY.

When in doubt, pick a classic. More tomorrow.

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HUGE stories for oral storytelling – techniques part 1

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

Right, if you’ve been following these posts you will have seen how a story is built up but before I go into speciifc stories I want to talk a little about how I select a long story and some other familiarisation tips.  This will take a couple of posts.

By ‘long’ I mean a story that will take several hours to deliver, sometimes spaced over many days. We are talking serious big time here. Don’t be put off by the length, actually the hard part is getting an audience. But they exist.

I have told Huge stories to children and young adults on youth camps or (in one spectacular case) during a crisis when we had to look after 60-70 teenagers during the middle of the night in a confined space.

No notes, the story has to be in your head. Notes stop the flow, inhibit the eye contact and rapport a storyteller builds with an audience. And on a long story this rapport is crucial, the listeners must want to come back and hear more.

Also, be comfortable with different listening styles. Yes, I said listening styles. Some people like to watch the storyteller – these are your core, the ones you feed off to make minor changes to the story on the fly. Then there is the daydreamer – these people are generally so heavily invested in the story that they spend the session looking into space; they’re not with you, they are IN the story, it’s unfolding before their eyes. The fidgets are also involved but some people have to be moving, can’t sit still – kinesetic listeners. The other end of the spectrum also exists, listeners who are so still they stretch out and close their eyes. They’re not asleep; in my inexpeience I once wanted to stop telling one story when most of the audience were – to me – on their backs and dozing; I called a halt to the story and was immediately surrounded by pleading faces. I carried on and they went straight back to being prone.

The ones who don’t want the story are easy to spot – they get up and walk away. Dead obvious. What a storyteller has to decide is the policy for telling a story, when to continue. If 10 people from a group of thirty get up and leave then you have a problem but stopping the story means being discourteous to the twenty who want to hear. What are you going to do?

I suggest two things; tell the story (you need the practice) and be a better storyteller! Next time you sit down you want those 10 who left to want to stay and this will only happen if the rest of the group all give of positive messages about you and your craft.

More tomorrow.

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Dogger

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

Dogger is a sweet story, I often become a bit emotional towards the end because I’m such a sook. It is the story of love between a brother and a sister; the title is the name of a favourite stuffed toy owned by the little boy.

This story is almost totally linear but has a few minor departures, nothing dramatic but a good way for the novice to cut their teeth. The set up at the start is important so that the differences between the two children are highlighted, then when the kick comes in the end the depth of love is shown to be amazing.

Right, away we go (another long story here):

1. The set up, part A; Dave is the boy who owns dogger, his only soft toy. Stress when it’s washed or misplaced for a while, spend a bit of time on this. Everyone has had a ‘dogger’.

2. The set up, part B; Bella is the older sister. Good at everything, has a lot of soft toys (they cover her bed); she collects them. The children share a room, Bella is active, Dave is quiet. This is a normal brother and sister, they sometimes fight, they argue; Dave is not Bella’s best buddy nor is she totally protective of him. They are just your basic brother and sister.

3. Next day Mum takes baby in pram and Dave to wait at school gates for Bella. Dave can’t wait to be big enough for school; they buy an icecream, Bella shares hers with the baby. Sign advertises the school fete next day, all plan to go. Big talk on roles in family – who knows what its like to be the eldest? the youngest?

4. That night Dave is quiet, finally bursts into tears and reveals he has lost Dogger. Everyone searches, Dave distraught. Father gets a torch out when he comes home late from work and searches the garden at night. Talk about family helping each other, who knows what its like to lose something precious?

5. Next dayat the fete Bella goes in all the races, eats junk food, has a great time. Wins a GIANT stuffed bear; almost as big as Bella. Dave wanders off by himself and spots Dogger on a the jumble sale stall but has no money. Nice scene as he tries to convince the lady running the stall that he owns dogger.

6. We’re seriously into tears here, Dave finds Bella, tells her what’s going on and she agrees to go and buy dogger. They get back to the stall only to find that another little girl is standing there having just bought dogger! Dave goes into defcon4 tear level.

7. This is the big scene, you have to go for this. Bella offers to buy dogger but the girl refuses. Long pause as they look at each other and Dave just cries and cries. Long , long pause. The little girl starts to look at the Giant bear that Bella is holding. Bella notices her looking and makes a decision.

8. I generally ask “What do you think Bella did? What would you do?” A whole range of answers arrive, some the same action as Bella’s.

9. Bella asks if the little girl will swap dogger (heavy on the old and ratty) for her new giant bear with the big blue bow (did I mention the big blue bow?). Dave stops crying and just watches, heart in mouth. If done right, the audience is also on tenterhooks.

10. Little girl agrees, Dave gets dogger back, hugs Bella. Everyone happy but that’s not the end of the story.

11. That night (this is the end of the story) Bella and Dave are in their beds, or at least Dave is. He’s hugging dogger while Bella does hand stands on her bed and generally mucks around. Finally he asks her “Did you mind very much giving up the new bear?” Bella pauses in her answer and says no, probably no more room on her bed anyway.

12. Then Dave says (and stop that sobbing in the back row, dammit!) “I love you, Bella”. And Bella says “I love you, too, Dave”.

And they all lived happily ever after.

I need to go and blow my nose. Check out Shirley Hughes and her Alfie stories if you liked this one.

Tomorrow, we hit the really big oral stories.

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Rikki Tikki Tavi

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

This story works because it has a focus on courage and it has a secondary message of the importance of family. At least the way I tell it.

Telling a longer story means knowing what it is that you want to say, if there is a message then the storyteller shades his choice of words for these scenes. I’m sure this story works being told another way (probably lots of ways) but this is my process. It should go for about 30 mins but this varies a little, depending on audience and other performance factors.

This story is linear and told from a single POV, both pluses for a storyteller. Multiple POVs are possible but you have to know when and how to use them.

So, how does this story go – for me?

1. Rikki is introduced – young so lots of audience identification. Looking for a home, finds the garden.

2. Meets the two birds – humour over the father (great chance for some special voice work), mother’s love is highlighted as she leads the cobra away from her young. Cobra recognises Rikki as a mongoose and knows his potential threat – highlight to audience how everyone has greatness in them. Eyes shining by now.

3. Rikki kills the dirt snake threatening the boy – courage to attack the snake. Father approves of Rikki’s adoption into family. Everybody happy.

4. Rikki sleeps on boys bed, goes out on patrol – because heroes keep people safe. Bird tells of the snakes plot to kill the family that night, Rikki runs back to house.

5. Big fight between father cobra and Rikki, lots of action thumping around. Kids love it. Rikki wins; family gush over him, all happy but Rikki knows job is not done. Leaves the family and searches out the snake’s nest.

6. Goes into nest and finds all the eggs, if they hatch there will be many kilings; no adult snake around. Rikki destroys all the eggs except one; mystery for audience – why keep one? carries it in his mouth.

7. Returns to family as they are having breakfast on verandah,big scene because the family is sitting very still as the female cobra lazily weaves near the boy’s bare ankle. Very tense, Rikki offers to trade last egg for life of boy, cobra takes egg and father snatches boy out of harm’s way. This is a big scene and has lots of stress -will the boy be bitten and die?

8. Chase scene, cobra takes last egg in mouth and flees back to hole,Rikki in hot pursuit. Cobra goes into hole and birds warn Rikki about following a snake into a hole. Snakes can turn around and the pursuer is confronted by a snake’s fangs. This is the biggie, this is the courage scene. I talk about character, about doing the hard things even though scared and so on. Then Rikki goes into the hole. If done right the kids’ faces are agape, some saying “No, Rikki!” others just frozen as they wait for the story to finish.

9. I sometimes look at my watch and say something like “Look, I’ve kept you here so long, perhaps I should stop now.” I have been physically mobbed.

10. Male bird sings Rikki’s lament, more voice work and bad song. Rikki emerges victorious, everyone hugs.

11. Conclusion is important because this is a story about doing your job, about protecting the family. The story finishes simply by relating how Rikki stayed with the family and kept then safe “Like a good mongoose should” and how all the snakes stayed away from the household.

And they all lived happily ever after.

 

Tomorrow, ‘Dogger’ by Shirley Highes. Sorry about my links, I’m grappling with tech issues and will try to go back and fix them.

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Longer Oral Stories

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

Oral storytelling can, indeed it often does, stop with an audience of young children. This mindset detracts from a rather grand old story telling tradition; but oral storytelling can handle the big stuff.

I won’t go into a mild rant over the importance of the Iliad, the Canterbury Tales, let alone those wonderful tales from Persia. Take it as read, please, that oral storytelling has been around for a long time and it is only the advent of the printed word that has pushed it out the door. It’s still there, outside on the balcony. Someone open a window!

The questions become:

1.  When can we tell longer stories? What audience?

2.  What stories can stand up to this medium?

3.  How do I do it?

I’m glad you asked.

Start small, tell the little stories first. Okay, I’m going to assume that you can do this; you can relate the Three Billy Goats Gruff,  Hairy Maclary from Donaldson’s Dairy holds no fears for you and the thought of Mem Fox’s Possum Magic does not send icy shivers of fear down your non-storytelling spine.  Get back in line, that man!

There is a middle step before hitting the big, big stories and I’ll talk about that in my next post. For now, go to the library and ask the librarian to recommend some middle years primary school books to you; he or she will fall on your shoulder and weep with gratitude.

Get ’em and read ’em. Now, pick one and tell the story aloud to yourself. The best ones have a linear storyline with a single protagaonist but, as in all thing literary, these rules are made to be broken. The ending has to be clear cut, no cliff hangers – good guys win, bad guys lose. In my opinion a strong moral message makes the best story, but I’ll come back to that point at another time.

So, here’s a couple of starter stories for you. tomorrow I’ll discuss them in a bit more detail. I know they both work, told ’em lotsa times…

1. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi by Mr. Kipling (suprised you there, didn’t I?)

2. Dogger by Shirley Highes         (the woman is a saint)

Okay, now you all have your homework; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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The Three Billy Goats Gruff

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

I did say I’d come back to this story as an example of oral storytelling.  So here we go, this is what I do.

Wait a minute, let’s go back to that phrase – “What I do”. This is one way I tell this story, each oral storyteller has to have their own process, invest themselves into the telling. Watch others, learn and so on, but tell the story your way.

I like this story because I’ve told it a couple of hundred (thousand) times and I know it works. Knowing a story works is a great thrill, very satisfying. And this sense of confidence comes across in the telling. Everyone wins.

Okay, just a few basics in the technique. I generally TELL the audience my beginning and ending clues if they are new to me. Regular listeners give sighs of satisfaction (yes, six year olds can sigh in satisfaction).

These clues are:

“Once upon a time in a land far, far away….” Whoops! I forgot to tell you about the second part of that phrase “…in a land far, far away.” I believe that certain stories, especially fantasy for children, should happen in a wonderful, magical other place. Might be just me, what do you think?

And the ending is, of course, “…and they all lived happily ever after.”

Right, into it. I’m not going to tell the story again, just give a few techniques. Try using fingers to demonstrate the goats as they walk, invest each goat with its own “weight’ and voice.

One more – the troll. Oh, man, this bit’s a hoot. As the first billy goat gruff walks across the bridge (more clues here – empahises the ‘trip-trapping’) lean forward and pause for a moment and then use the other hand to be the troll, leaping up from below the bridge. I just use my hand as the troll’s mouth (like a hand puppet) but I give a BIG “ROAOR!!!!!” The misspelling is intentional.

The first time the troll appears the kids leap, eyes widen, then the grins come out as they compare notes about who got the biggest fright.

Give this time to happen then finish the story. Each time the troll appears repeat the sequence, the repitition gives the kids back their peace of mind, allows them to process their fright and see it what it really is – just your hand. On a good day a lot will join in and help out the troll with a few roars of their own.

This story can get a bit out of hand but who cares, we’re all having fun here!

And now for my kick. When’s the last time you told your kids a bedtime story? Or in the bath? Or on a car journey? Do it – read to them, of course, but try TELLING stories. Yes, dads, I’m looking at you here! Step up, fellas.

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The Clues and the Sauce – or maybe the sizzle?

This post is one of a series on oral storytelling.

The sauce is the way the story is told and this is a biggie. Let’s stick with oral storytelling for a bit longer and dredge up some examples.

Stand up comediens – the good ones can read a shopping list and hold an audience. remember Rowan Atkinson reading the class list as a teacher in one of the Secret Policeman’s Balls? Man’s a genius. But do you have to be a stand up? Well, no.

I saw Peter Ustinov come on stage for a one man, er, monologue. It wasn’t a comedy show, it wasn’t a theatrical production. he just walked out, ignored the cosy little set ( lounge chair, small table holding a water jug and glass, comfy square of carpet – all very quiet and chatty) and started to talk. He talked of his life, he told us stories, anecdotes, he wandered through his brain. No histrionics, arm waving, raised voices, he never moved an inch physically. The man can tell a story.

Oral storytelling has it all over the written word when it comes to voices and gestures. Coming to a scary bit? Lower the voice, lean forward, whisper a little… everyone leans in, hanging out for the SCARE! You haven’t lived until a group of six year olds leviates itself from sitting cross-legged on the floor as the villain appears (or something similar). Eyes bulge, there’s a moment of astonishment and then, if the storyteller has done the job right, they break into smiles, gasps, look at each other in wonder. Just for a moment the storyteller has taken them away and, most importantly, brought them back. Don’t scare for cheap thrills, it has to be a part of the story otherwise they’ll never come back and there’s nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear as a storyteller sitting on the floor waiting for an audience that never shows up. I don’t do scary stories but I do tell moments of tension. You gotta have it.

The written story must also have sizzle, it can’t rely on just having a good idea for a yarn. Read other writer’s blogs (yes, I admit it, I’m a writer) – we don’t sit around wondering where our next story is coming from, they’re lined up six deep in the head, arguing over first place. What we do is try to get the sizzle going, the phrasing, the sentence structure, the whole box and dice. Terry Pratchett – all bow, please – can do sizzle.

So, to sum up the last few posts – a story must have clues which the reader/listener can identify. They make the recipient of the story feel safe. And the story must be well told, it’s gotta have sizzle.

What about the storyline, says a voice from the back,  isn’t that important? Sometimes, but not as much as you think. I believe audience trust is the biggie. They want you to take them somewhere else for a while.

If they trust you then they really don’t mind where they go. And they’ll come back  to hear/read you again. A pretty neat feeling.

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