Articles in the magazine
 
Australia’s National Storytelling Magazine
swag of yarns

 

 
Articles
Tell Tale Tits Morgan Shatz-Blackrose, Cindy-Lee Hunter, Gill Di Stephano
Stories of the Dreaming
Once upon a time…Storytelling for the very young
Jo Kane - Celebrating the Year of the Older Persons
How To Optimize Your Storytelling Talent by Bluegrass Storyteller Chuck Larkin
True Tips For Emcees by True Thomas
The Lyrebird; the storyteller.  A story by Donna Sife
The spiritual Unity of the  Tribes by  Anne E. Stewart

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
Tell Tale Tits
Morgan Shatz-Blackrose, Cindy-Lee Hunter, Gill Di Stephano

Cora Payne recently contacted each member of this storytelling troupe to discover their secrets of successful combo storytelling.




I want to do something like this one day, I thought, feeling incredibly inspired after attending the show Stories of Fierce Attachment. How magical it seemed, to weave a wonderful tapestry with others, using stories like a multicoloured thread drawing the deep underlying themes together. The delightful appearance of a rose motif, scattered here and there, added an extra special touch. 

Although I had heard snippets of Cindy-Lee’s personal stories before the performance, I wasn’t prepared for the powerful effect it would have in its totality. While I sat there blinking back the tears, others let them flow freely. The traditional tales told by Gill Di Stephano and Morgon Schatz-Blackrose perfectly complemented the personal stories. 

The process of developing a performance that combines personal and traditional tales seemed to be something that may be of interest to other storytellers, so I emailed and faxed some questions to each member of the Tell Tale Tits storytelling troupe. It was interesting to see the harmony evident in the answers.

For example, when preparing personal stories, each storyteller agreed that the issues must be worked through first and resolved, before there is any attempt to share them in a storytelling space. Gill said that the stories have to be ‘worked through by the teller in a way that means they are not being ‘dumped’ on the audience for the benefit of the teller. Rather they are developed so as to be of value to the audience.’ 

Cindy-Lee added that the ‘stories must honour the characters, issues and myself. I do not tell stories for revenge or any other purpose than to set them free. In setting a story free, I allow it to become whatever individual and collective audience need, and open opportunities to see what else is possible.’ Morgon put it this way, ‘Personal stories that are appropriate to tell are ones I am not still suffering over.’

The creation of personal stories takes time. 

“Usually it begins by yarning with a friend.” said Cindy-Lee.  “Important stories take shape and begin a life of their own. As I think about them and picture the events, the stories evolve. When I’m finally ready to tell them, in rehearsal, they go through a spoken evolutionary process of shaping sound and gestures. Balance, shape, colour, sound and the look of a story are all considered carefully.” 

Morgon’s process includes ‘writing, researching, and sharing with my trusted friends, and then finding the right context to share the stories with strangers.’ Gill creates hers from experience and the contemplation of the meaning of that experience—‘to have the experience but miss the meaning renders the experience unworthy of a tale.’ 

Cindy-Lee had been working on these four particular stories for more than two years, and they were ‘burningly ready’. When she shared these with Gill and Morgon, they knew immediately what stories might work with them. 

Morgon explained, “The combination of personal and traditional stories is how I interpret my life. The old stories are with me always, consciously or not. They help me to understand the meaning of events, relationships and choices in my life.” 

Morgon added that it is her role to be familiar with enough stories—then the ‘traditional tales volunteer themselves to be told’.

“Our understanding of traditional tales help Cindy-Lee tell her story,” said Gill.

“They are chosen to echo the images, gestures and symbols of the personal. They will ask the same questions, they may offer answers to questions asked in personal stories or amplify an understanding,” continued Gill. 

The combination does provide a sense of satisfaction to both teller and listener. Be prepared to listen to how the meaning underlying Sleeping Beauty, Rosechild, Midas, and Demeter & Persephone all connect with Cindy-Lee’s personal stories. All of these stories deal with the relationship between a daughter and her parents exploring the pain experienced by separation, or the misunderstanding of the role which leads to making mistakes as a caregiver. The prevailing message however, within the story told or extended in the one that follows is one of hope. 

In asking about the impact of the show on the tellers I wasn’t surprised to hear that it was ‘nurturing at a deep level’ for Cindy-Lee. Gill expressed that she is ‘always amazed at the layers of meaning revealed when working intensely on particular stories.’

“There are always surprises,” she continued. “Working on this show has reinforced the understanding that a simple story can enrich our lives in all the ways we value—increase our self-knowledge, develop our compassion and deepen our empathy.” 

Morgon said, “I love the enlightenment I receive from my unconscious. It reaffirms my belief in the connectedness of our experiences.”

In order to make a deeper connection with the audience, in relation to the issues raised, a performance/personal growth combination was a suggestion made after the show. 

“Stories work on a number of levels,” said Morgon.  “A performance being a short, intense and powerful experience. A workshop enables the audience to share their connection to the stories and find empathy, guidance and encouragement to undertake their own journey.” 

Gill, who already conducts storytelling workshops in this way, affirmed that possibility with a simple ‘Yes’. So, this will be an event to look forward to in the year 2000.

Any last tips for storytellers trying this out in their own work was my last question. Once again, it was uncanny, considering that these questions were asked independently, how each member of the group echoed the other. They all used the word trust, as the final tip. Cindy-Lee said, “Be sure to work with storytellers you admire and trust with your work, and whose work you can trust.” 

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Stories of the Dreaming





Australian Aboriginal Dreamtime stories have been handed down from generation to generation since the beginning of time—the time of union between the spiritual world and the physical world. Before this time—the Dreamtime—the land was without form and devoid of spirituality.

In the Dreamtime ancestor spirits came to the earth in the form of animals, plants and humans. They created the geography, the flora and the fauna and they laid down the tribal and community laws. These ancestor spirits left the earth when their work was done. When they left they had created a highly structured and meaningful hunter-gatherer society. This was a society with sophisticated systems of land use, an intricate knowledge of ecology and a deep reverence for the land and the community. These spirit ancestors can still be seen today in the land, in the animals and in the stars.

Scientists once believed that the Australian Aboriginal peoples had lived on the continent for 6000 years. They have since changed that estimate and most scientists now agree that the Australian Aboriginal peoples have occupied this land for at least 60 000 years.  The stories of this culture—the world’s oldest continuos culture—tell us that the Aboriginal people have occupied the Australian continent since the beginning of time.

Scientists still cling to the migration theory but as science becomes more mature scientific knowledge confirms much of what has been handed down in the Aboriginal Dreamtime stories. For example the stories have told for centuries of the giant red kangaroos and science now confirms the past existence of these animals. Perhaps one day science will be mature enough to recognise the power and value of the stories of the Australian Aboriginal peoples.
The Dreamtime stories tell of the work of the spirit ancestors and many stories are indigenous to specific areas.  The stories are not owned or copyrighted by individuals. They belong to a community and the storytellers of that community cherish the responsibility of passing the stories along.

A storyteller is often chosen by tribal Elders as custodian of the stories of that community.  Many custodians died without being able to hand the stories on, partly due to the displacement of Aboriginal communities but also because of the discouragement and even banning of the telling of traditional stories.

Aboriginal storytellers are now keen to spread the stories as widely as possible. On her audiotape June Barker says ‘Now I’m passing these stories on to you.’

Storytelling is an integral part of Aboriginal communities. Stories give dignity, self-respect, guidance and spirituality to the people of the community. In the past the stories meant survival because they told the people where to find food and water.

The role of stories as an educational tool is vital. Relevant stories are told according to the child’s developmental stage and the stories address the needs of the child at that time. New stories are introduced, revealing more about the culture and the history, as the children grow older. As adults they are given the responsibility of telling the stories and handing them down to the next generation. In this way the stories of the Aboriginal peoples have been handed down since the time of creation—the Dreaming.

Storytellers who wish to tell Aboriginal stories should first obtain permission to do so from the custodian of the story. Stories may not be told or altered in any way without permission of the custodian.
jb
 
 

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Once upon a time…Storytelling for the very young. 
by 
Anne E. Stewart

I’ll never forget Mem Fox telling The Little Match Girl to a group of librarian’s and teachers in Darwin early on in my storytelling career. I remember the tears in my eyes, the sadness, and the lump in my throat. She had us all there, eating out of the palm of her hand. Not a loud, theatrical Mem but rather a quiet reflective Mem in keeping with the emotions of the story. What power! What a storyteller!

But more than that, there was one thing in particular that has always stayed with me. Mem has a tremendous appreciation and passion for stories, language and literacy.  Telling stories, she explained, is like the pouring forth of precious jewels—each delicious word to be savoured, to be handed to children with love, respect, passion and reverence.

Fifteen years on, with countless pre school storytimes under my belt I too have a passionate belief in the importance of developing in children a love of language and literature. I still thrill to the eager up-turned faces that look at me adoringly. I always know when I’ve told stories to a child, even if I don’t remember their face. They look at me like we are old friends.

But of all the age groups, pre-schoolers are probably the trickiest—the most intense, the most constant. There is no chance to relax into a long story. Pre-school sessions necessarily move along at a fast pace, moving from rhyme to story to song. Pre-schoolers have no qualms about showing you their cut finger in the middle of the story, or telling you their cat’s name or what they had for breakfast. It’s hard work

However, telling pre-schoolers stories and creating a love for the magic and music of words is probably one of our most important jobs. Over the years I have learnt many tricks and developed a quiet confidence in my abilities and the stories I have chosen to work with. This article purports to share some of these with you.

Nothing can beat experience when it comes to the art of storytelling but here are some guidelines to start you on the path.

I have always found it easier to work with themes with pre-school storytimes—be it as simple as food, the wind, animals or bathtime—it helps me to focus the session and find material from the excellent plethora of stories, songs and rhymes available. The trick is to work up a package that incorporates a range of material.

Let me give you some examples. 

Anne Pellowski in her excellent book The Story Vine has a simple version of How the Years were named for the Animals—a beautiful old Chinese story that starts with the Buddha sitting under his sacred Bodhi Tree.  Let’s take this as a starting point for exploring pre-school storytelling.

I saw Pellowski tell this story using twelve tiny animal figurines. At the time I couldn’t find any myself so I cut out and pasted the animals in the story on to black cardboard. They were big and bold and young children quickly got the idea to name the animals with me as the story progressed. First year the rat, second year the ox, third the tiger, fourth the rabbit, fifth the dragon and so on. Let’s start with the year of the rat. First some nursery rhymes;

“Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the clock. Okay everyone—arms up nice and straight so we can watch your little mice run up them.”

With these developing listeners it is a good idea to involve them with action rhymes. Get them to join in in a focused way. In my time in libraries Elisabeth Matterson’s This Little Puffin was always in my reference collection. It was a well-organised great source for nursery rhymes and appropriate actions.

With this early age group I invariably use lots of props. 

“I’ve brought some visitors to meet you today, they’re very small and very shy and frightened of cats. Can you guess what they are?”

Out of my pocket I produce two little mice—available from pet shops as toys for cats. 

“These are my friends Tom Thumb and Hunka Munka. They want to do a little poem with you. Now, because you haven’t got any mice, maybe you’d like to pretend with me. Put your hand out flat and pretend. It’s a nest. Use your pointer and middle finger of the other hand as mice.”

Now:
Two little mice sat down to spin
Pussy passed by,
 and popped his head in
What are you doing my little men?
We’re weaving coats for gentlemen.
Can I come in and bite off the thread?
No! No! Pussy, you’d bite off our heads.

I repeat this through the session. This poem naturally leads to a longer story, Two Bad Little Mice by Beatrix Potter.
All of this takes about twenty minutes, quite long enough for beginning listeners. If your pre-schoolers are well trained and it’s later in the year you could extend it by searching for related stories. Working in a library I was always on the lookout for new material but if you don’t work in a library try looking for a reference book titled Subject Access to Picture Books. This could save you hours of perusing the shelves.

Let’s pick some more animals from our Chinese Years, say the rooster and the dragon, my Chinese animal and my daughter’s respectively. I love telling this story and children seem to really concentrate on it. The Rooster and the Heavenly Dragon can be found in a multicultural collection by Margaret Read MacDonald.

“Once, the rooster had beautiful golden horns on the top of his head. And so it goes….”

In my hometown of Daylesford, in country Victoria I earn my bread and butter money at a shop called Dragons And Dreaming. Three metres of scaly red dragon wrap itself around the wall protecting a small cave where I tell stories. Naturally I’ve got a lot of Dragonlore.

You must hunt out Jack Prelutsky’s book of dragon poems The Dragons are Singing Tonight. The title poem is sensational. I love sharing beautiful rhythmic poetry like this.

Would you believe I’ve even adapted PD Eastman’s classic Are you my Mother, to ‘Are yee me kinfolk.’ I gathered all the props from my children’s toys together with a handsome green Sri Lankan Dragon puppet I had.

It’s like this:
Mother dragon goes off to look for food. While she’s gone her baby in its egg is washed down into a deep dark lake.  Claws start scratching and the baby dragon emerges to look for his mother. He finds out he’s not a fish that has scales like him and he’s not a reptile with claws like his, not a bird that can fly or a fire that burns. He wanders back to his nest and his mother finds him. How deliciously satisfying for a child to be back home with his mother who loves him. I’ve even got a version featuring Dinosaurs!

Year of the snake leads me to several other favourite books, poems and stories. Once again I recommend Anne Pellowski’s The Story Vine, this time for its string tricks.

I had the great fortune to meet Anne and collected a few of her stories and tricks. I have employed poetic licence and changed her snake into Gorialla the Rainbow Serpent; I also do the mosquito trick.

While on an Aboriginal theme, I have also adapted an action rhyme Pellowski illustrates in her book. My niece Esther was called Muk Muk by the Aboriginal people of central Australia, where she was born because of her big round eyes like an owl. The actions are in the book but this is how I tell it, once children have guessed that Muk Muk is an Aboriginal word for owl.

Muk Muk sat in the branch of a tree,
As quiet as quiet can be.
It was night 
And her eyes were open like this
She looked all around
Not a thing did she see
Two mice started creeping
 up the trunk of the tree 
And they stopped below the branch
To see what they could  see
The solemn old owl said
‘Twooit Twoooh
Up jumped the mice
 and down they flew. 

I always have great fun with another Aboriginal story that of Tiddalick the giant frog that drinks up all of the water. I have a big green balloon that I blow up as Tiddalick drinks up all the water and gets fatter and fatter and bigger and bigger. I love children’s nervous trepidation. Will it or won’t it burst?

I tell the version from the ABC book Favourite Playschool Stories or maybe it’s in the collection More Favourite Playschool Stories. I recommend you get them both. Likewise the Playschool Useful Book is a must for those interested in developing pre-school themes.

A list could go on and on about the stories, poems and rhymes that have become like old friends but I should conclude with some practical aspects of pre-school storytelling.

Interruptions
I’m afraid these will always happen no matter how experienced you are or how well you know your stories.  Don’t let it phase you! Don’t ignore the child or they’ll keep badgering but a firm “you can tell me after the story” will help. We are training these young people in their listening skills so we need to be pro-active.  A couple of favourite lines that always work for me are:

“You know how I can tell children are ready for a story? They’re sitting up nice and straight and looking at me.”

“Oh dear, I can’t go on, somebody’s talking and that will spoil the story for everyone else.”  Then you eyeball the yapper!

Choosing Stories
The stories you choose will stay in your repertoire for a long time so make sure they are stories you love. To hark back to Mem, you need to be passionate about your choices.

Essential Elements
Keep your storytime moving along. Include a range of material and vary the length of pieces you present. Children learning language love repetition so make sure you include old favourites like Gingerbread Boy, or The Hobyahs, invite the children to join in this structured way. 

Beware of open-ended questions with the very young. Their minds could be wandering anywhere and you may not get the response you had hoped for.

Finally to finish a quote from another favourite storyteller of mine, Patricia Scott from Tasmania—who has won the Dromkeen medal for her contribution to children’s literature.

“Like your story, know your story. Relax and enjoy the telling.”
 
 

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Celebrating the Year of the Older Persons
by
Jo Kane

I am living proof that a career can begin at 60 years of age. After a lifetime of bringing up four children, 265 guinea pigs, 415 goldfish (minus the 5 the cats ate), 28 budgies and 9 cats with a husband somewhere amongst the lot, I am now fulfilling a lifelong dream of relating some of their exploits in poem and prose.

In November 1997 I self published Smile with Jo and walked the streets of Mackay handing out a copy of the book to many business houses in our country town. I went to banks, dress shops, pubs, garages and shoe shops (where I bought a new pair of shoes to replace the ones I’d worn out). One week later I retraced my steps and to my delight and relief collected orders from everyone—200 in all!

During 1998 I sold the majority of the remaining 800 by entertaining local clubs and groups with recitations from Smile with Jo. All told I gave over 50 presentations to numbers ranging from 20 to 200. 

Following upon the success of my first book, three months ago I published a follow up volume More Smiles with Jo with a slightly different format, anecdotes as well as verse and a few photographs with the illustrations.

It’s certainly been a learning experience and although I haven’t always got it right it’s been a lot of fun and I’ve made many new friends along the way. Probably the most important lesson I’ve learnt is that not all achievement need be measured with a dollar sign!

I was giving my final presentation last year to The Cardiac Support Group. As it was a warm night the windows were wide open and the fans blowing vigorously. Halfway through my first poem a moth flew into my mouth! Remembering the old adage ‘The Show Must Go On’ I continued to the end while the moth beat its wings frantically against the roof of my mouth. As soon as I’d finished I snatched up my glass of water and drowned it in one gulp! Could have been worse. Could have been a cockroach!

On another occasion, running late for a presentation, I was ushered straight up to the stage as soon as I arrived. After the chairman’s introduction I began with an introductory talk—having learned to warm up my audience first—when I became aware of the people nearby glancing down. I tried to concentrate on what I was saying then, horror of horrors, I realised what they were looking at.

Because it was a hot day, on the drive out I’d rolled my knee-high stockings down to my ankles where they still lay draped carelessly around my feet! Not a pretty sight I can tell you!

As soon as I reached the end I calmly said. “Will you excuse me while I finish dressing?” bent down and hauled them up swiftly—to a round of applause! Could have been worse. Could have been my knickers!

Another time I arrived for a presentation wearing a stylish beret. Not to keep up with the fashion but because my husband Jim who had been painting as I left the house, dropped a dollop of paint onto my head as he bent to kiss me goodbye! I was very aware during my performance of the paint setting like araldite onto my head and hat. I’m still not talking to him! So you can see it hasn’t all been plain sailing on the promotion trail!
 
 

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How To Optimize Your Storytelling Talent
by
Bluegrass Storyteller Chuck Larkin

Oral storytelling includes both theatre of the stage and theatre of the mind. Storyteller-entertainers should decide and control the audience’s focus on the stage—theatre of the stage—or focus the audience on their mental imagery— theatre of the mind. An audience can also focus on both the teller on stage and their flowing imagery. There is no right or wrong style between theatre of the stage and theatre of the mind but the storyteller should be aware and choose between the two. Theatre of the mind storytelling is my preference due to the release of endorphins—a brain chemical—during the listener’s imagery of the story that leaves the audience feeling pleasant.

Para Language
Para language must support the emotions and words of the narrator and each character during the telling of the story.

Vocal Para Language: 
The voice’s tonal quality, pitch, volume, articulation, rate of speaking words per minute (WPM), use of pauses, accents, inflection, mood and emotions—humour, disgust, surprise, anger, concern, indifference, affection, energy levels, low, high, stress, fear.

Body Para Language: 
Gestures, eye-contact, facial expressions, postures that display power, stress, warmth, fear, humility, arrogance, and body movements, such as extraneous pacing. Note! Movement blocking in theatre and storytelling is the same. One moves for a reason that supports the story.

Character Dialogue
The first transition in upgrading the entertainment level of a storytelling performance is to shift from straight narration to character dialogue. Two items are basic to this transition. First, ‘character dialogue’ is both the dialogue between characters and a character thinking and commenting out loud. This will require changing the structure of the story into oral language and dropping much of the ‘he said, she said,’ from the presentation. Second, in lieu of the ‘he said, she said’ it is necessary to shift slightly the para language and accent for each character’s voice. 

If you are doing theatre of the mind storytelling then an accent may be appropriate. Listen to the people around you and the subtle differences in their manner of speaking as a guide to developing this talent skill. When alone, practise speaking with your tongue in various locations in your mouth.

A dialect may distract quality listening. Often the listener starts thinking about the dialect and may miss a critical story element.
 

Performing
When you change characters in your story, do so with body and voice. Great changes are not needed—only that quality and quantity of change necessary to convey a character change and to direct and enhance the imagery of your audience. With experience and practice, vocal accents and body mime, you can improve characterisation; but even slight changes, while you are learning can  be very effective. At minimum, you can pitch your voice high, normal, low and speak fast, normal and slow, nasal and non-nasal for beginning vocal characterisations. As a storyteller you are still a narrator in places but now you bring in to play your own creative skill as you bring life to the story’s characters.

The rhythmic and intonational aspect of para language includes: pitch and volume of the voice, rate of speaking words, timing, proximity of pauses, articulation of words, accent in use, energy level, type of energy and the emotional modulation and adjustment of all of the above as indicated by the flowing movement of the story.

Last and most important is the body language—eye contact, movements on the podium, gestures, facial expressions, tilt of head and posture. Oral language communication experts have ranked the effect of words, the para language of the voice and body para language in transmitting messages to a listener.

Words in oral communication while essential are the least effective facet in transmitting a message to a listener due to the forcefulness of para language’s interpretation of the message beyond what the words convey. The tonal quality of the voice’s para language and the body para language combined are considered to be responsible for well over half of the receiving and understanding of the message.

The body para language itself is the primary communicator of a message. The estimated number of body language symbols we share, send and retrieve at low levels of awareness is enormous. The closer we are in sharing existential experiences the more para language symbols we share and use.

The Pause
The pause must be used in a random pattern between one and a dozen syllables. Pauses can also be achieved by stretching and holding a vowel syllable as a singer holds a note.

When the speaker establishes a too comfortable, hypnotic rhythm by pausing every ten to twelve syllables. A listener will become distracted, although they may not realise why. The pause has to be in a random pattern between one and a dozen syllables unless there is a reason to temporally abandon the pause.

Stress: 
During periods of stress your body and voice para language communicates stress to the audience. This can be partially offset by being aware of the stress and by including appropriate affirmations concerning reduced stress when programming your subconscious before going on stage.

Energy: 
A typical pattern is to either maintain a low or high natural energy level or enter a performing energy level when going on stage. This level may    be appropriate during salutations but inappropriate if the energy does not support the flowing moment passages in the story or speech. Look for an early passage in a story for an opportunity to shift the level of this energy. Then shift the energy level as needed to support the flowing movement of the story. 

Rate Of Delivery (Pace): 
If you fail to use fast and slow WPM pace changes with random pauses appropriate to the flowing moment of the passage then the pattern becomes a deterrent to effective listening.

You should deliver your material at about 150 to 200 words per minute but never maintain the same pace. Slow down for emphasis or rapid fire the delivery for attention in a speech or story character dialogue. In a story, the pace should be changed for each character. A constant change of pace related to the flowing passage is essential in order to hold the attention of your audience. A nice, steady pace will only serve as a hypnotic and allow your audience to daydream in comfort.

Pause & comprehension problem: 
The speaker utters an excess of syllables before a pause. When a speaker speaks more than a dozen syllables (not words) before a pause, the listener begins to lose the ability to process the information. The listener must increase their listening concentration, which becomes tedious. Note! The syllables following the first syllables wash out the first syllables before they are efficiently processed into the average listener’s consciousness. No matter how attentive the listener is, they still can’t effectively follow the flowing moment of the story, speech or conversation. There are exceptions to the limit on the number of syllables, when planned with a reason. Example, when repeating a passage for the third or more times in a story, pauses can be dropped and rate of delivery increased.

Pause and Imagery Problem: 
The pause is too brief for the listener to create and embellish the flowing image in their theatre of the mind. Pauses that are both frequent and too long tend to increase inattention in the audience.

Timing: 
The most difficult skill to develop is the sense of timing.      When you tell a story or speak to an audience, you are involved in a different form of communication. In normal conversation we are either transmitting or receiving information through a flow of words and our interpretation of the meaning of the words. However, when you are transmitting or receiving a story, listener thinking and imagery development are an added dimension to the communication. When relating a story or speech, you need to ensure that your listeners have time to think and have time to develop in their imagination a series of visions of the action described. This requires use of longer pauses and a slower delivery rate.

When telling a story or a joke, take your time, slow down and pause at the point you are painting an image in the mind of your listener. With practice, this sense of timing will become part of your effective speaking ensemble.

Body Language
Your total body needs to support your speech or the flowing moment of the story. When you have your body, hands, face and voice co-ordinated to your speech material or story, you will be able to maximise your level of communication effectiveness.

Avoid looking down your nose at anybody without reason—a common error. Coaches need to watch the tilt of the head to ensure the storyteller is not gawking down their nose at the audience. This haughty body language is appropriate for a character but not for the presenter.

The storyteller-entertainer will find  it useful to expand the body language in order to role-play the story characters. New tale tellers should consider acquiring a few skills of the mime. If you acquire the skill to convey a story without sound and merge the mime art form with the oral storytelling art form, you will be an impressive performer.

Gestures: 
Keep your hands up in view of the audience, and talk with your hands supporting the story. When hands are not in use they need to be inactive. When inactive let your hands fall to your sides or (my preference) bend your elbows and hold your hands at your sides. Another method is to stop movement of your hands while in the air when there is no reason to use a hand gesture to support the flowing image of the story, but a gesture will be used in a short period. After a few moments drop your hands to the other inactive positions. Hand gestures need to be in view of the audience. When addressing a large audience with deep back rows the folks in the
back need more expansive gestures in order to relate to you. Avoid blocking your face with your hands. Avoid gestures that are below the sight line of your audience. Keep hand gestures chest high and outward when necessary. Hand gestures should be crisp movements not fluttering and stammering. Coaches should watch that the hands are moving in appropriate directions supporting the story passage.
 

Chuck Larkin
Bluegrass Storyteller &
Appalachian Humorist
A Traditional Family Appalachian Sencha

PO Box 54573 Atlanta
Georgia 30308–0573
Fax (call first) & Local Phone;
(404) 873–3868
Telephone 1–800–952–7552 (99)
Email: Mythteller@aol.com

This is the second part of Chuck’s Workshop, which appeared in the previous issue of swag of yarns, but we have not been able to reproduce all of Chuck’s wisdom. For those who want more check out Chuck’s home page on:   www.tiac.net/users/papajoe/chuck01.htm

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True Tips For Emcees.

by 
True Thomas

I put on storytelling events here in Los Angeles with the Los Angeles DreamShapers. We have about 4–5 monthly events, and I do a lot of emceeing. 

Some Rough Guidelines:

Check before the publicity goes out—one month before. Are you still on? 

Co-ordinate between the tellers. If there is a theme discuss any specific requirements. Make certain tellers are aware of time constraints and usual pacing of show. Get proper pronunciation of names, stories, etc. Have tellers call each other and discuss show to avoid mishaps (too many heavy stories, profound story following an audience zapper, duplicating stories, etc.)
Any special requirements for MC or Site Co-ordinator (sometimes the same person). Ask the tellers what they like about the stories.

A week before the show
Are we still on? Any last minute thoughts? Discuss intro with talent. Do they need a special plug? Get any great honours lately? Watcha been up to, baby? 

The day of the show
Everybody there early. Introduce yourself. Let them walk the space. Tell them where they need to be and when. Tell the tellers they can grab you for any questions, and then give them some space. Be attentive to their needs—stowing gear, people being comp’d in. Get sound checks done early; adjust mike height, chairs coming on stage, etc. Do a dry run through (a good time to do sound levels) if you have time. Make certain everyone knows the game plan. Before the show, let the tellers know where you will be in the audience, in case of emergencies. 

On a subtle level—work the room. Make contact with your most enthusiastic audience members. Let the audience know that you are there to take care of them.

The job of the Emcee
Create an environment conducive to storytelling. Get them excited about storytelling and the tellers they are about to see. Thank them for being there. Give them a quick, appropriate song or story. (Allows for wiggle room, latecomers) 

Introduce the first teller—make certain that the first intro is short and sweet. Hopefully, the teller will pull this into some oomph. 

Introducing the tellers 
I tell the audience why I like this teller, discuss what the teller has been up to, and how honoured we are to have them. (If the audience trusts the MC, then the teller is walking into a family, as opposed to a group of strangers) Have
different things to say on every introduction, each subsequent one should be short and sweet. This is a good time to mention upcoming gigs, awards, tapes and such.

Keep the show on time
This is a joint responsibility. Before the show, talk to the tellers and tell them where you are going to be. Ask them if they would like some timing signals—a three-minute wind up, etc. Some of the tellers who are working on a new story like this. If you are dealing with someone who is notorious for going long—ego, or rampant enthusiasm, no time sense—tell him or her that you will be giving signals. If this person is a pro, they won’t need it anyway, so don’t push. 

Segue between tellers 
Be fair and make certain that you have good things to say about all. If you haven’t seen the teller, tell the folks why you are excited about hearing them. Don’t bullshit! An audience can detect insincerity. Trust your gut.

Lead people into the break
After the applause, they want to wiggle. Point out restrooms, refreshment, and merchandise, tell them they have 10 minutes (put 15 in the schedule). Have somebody give the crowd a five-minute warning. Work the room—listen to what people are saying. Music is always good to fill seats. 
 

Announcements
A good way to bring people back from the break. If the info is in the flyers, then plug the gig. Refer them to the flyers—don’t read them verbatim. A short song or story, something to re-capture the mood then back to the tellers.

Close the show
If you have a theme, wrap it up. Tell the audience when the next show is, and invite tellers back onto stage for a hearty round of applause. Thank the audience. Get them enthused. Tell them to come back.

After the show 
Get closure with talent—not before they have touched base with their audience. Tell them what a great job they did. Tell them who they can collect the cheque from. Make notes as to what worked, and what did not. Don’t ask the tellers until much later—they earned ‘them there endorphins’ and you should not take them away. Thank the crew and everybody else. Shake hands. Make
friends. Get grounded.
True Thomas

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The Lyrebird - the storyteller
a story 
by Donna Sife




Black cockatoos are the bringers of good news. Since their arrival in my neighbourhood the last few years, I have known that. Several months ago, I was watching them in the tree in my garden, squawking and fussing in their raucous, bold way—and I asked for a sign. I'm greedy like that—not enough to have black cockatoos choose my tree, I wanted more.

It was then that I heard a noise across the road which edges the National Park. And there they were—two lyrebirds bobbing and scratching their dance, singing their songs. I was thrilled to the bone and stood on tiptoe, peeking through branches to keep them in sight. It was deeply significant, although I could not tell you why. Not then. 

The following day I was performing at International House, through Sydney University. Penelope Starr told a story too, an Aboriginal tale about the lyrebird. It was then that I learnt that the lyrebird is the mythological sign for—the storyteller. 

The visit of the lyrebirds was transforming, as such visits so often are. They heralded a shift in my work as a storyteller. Once I used the dove as my totem, my logo—because I was primarily a Jewish storyteller who told other stories too. Now my totem is the lyrebird, and I dare to tell stories that spill over the edges, cannot be contained within cupped hands. Big and mythic stories that leave you moved and stirred and altered. Not instant gratification like you get from the sweet, wise stories and legends I still enjoy, but stories that continue long after they have been told. 

As a result of this shift, my other work has changed too. I give workshops     that relate to the work of story within the psyche. I try to explore the unconscious, access dream and allow the unspoken to speak, but always from the story, through the story, around the story. The bigger the story, the further it can travel. I feel very reticent to impose my self upon this work. I never offer interpretation, only the possibility for others to feel their relationship with the story themselves. 

This focus became more important to me after I attended a few seminars on different myths. I went to hear an expert speak on Psyche and Eros, and heard some very clever connections and interpretations. However, I was shocked that I never actually heard the story. The story was not told, just spoken about—and this is not unusual, it is the way it is often approached. So much thinking! So much talk! And the story is lost.

My tendency is to tell the story as often as it needs to be told. In a workshop I may tell it three times or more if the participants require to hear it again. I want them to hear it from a place of emptiness, where the story enters them unimpeded by thought or association —just through the body. Anne Wilson Schaeff has said that understanding will never set us free—only feeling. 

My sweetest example of this is a memory of Alice, three years old, listening with wide eyes as I told her the story of little Red Riding Hood. When I got to the part where the wolf, licking his lips says, “All the better to EAT YOU UP!” I put my heart into it, and growled a fierce growl. Alice jumped and burst into tears, and I thought to myself  “Uh oh, I overdid it!” And Alice, through her tears and fear, looked at me and finally managed to say “AGAIN!” I must have repeated that part of the story ten times that day. Each time with that dreadful growl, each time to her tears, and each time to the cry “Again!” Her tears became laughter, her fright turned from having control, to being controlled. Never once did Alice have to be told that she was coming to terms with her fear by hearing this story. Never did she have to know that the wolf might represent the shadow, the dark, the hunger. She just knew that she had to hear it again and again.

I am a storyteller. I understand that I must interact with the stories that I tell on a deep, profound level. I think I need to understand the stories I tell, and also know why it is I choose to tell it. But it is not my job to tell you that. I must simply honour the story by telling it as truly as I can, with heart and soul and understanding. What you do with that story has nothing to do with me.

Keep your eye open for black cockatoos—they bring good news, and leave stories all around—to be blown by the wind, and to seed in the earth.

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The Spiritual Unity of the Tribes
Anne E. Stewart

In the heart of spa country—central Victoria—just out of Daylesford under the shadow of Lambargook (Mt Franklin), Dan O’Connor and Sue Ewart have offered their majestic property for Australia’s first ever ‘spiritual gathering’ known as The Spiritual Unity of the Tribes. The property is known as Dja William, (the ‘d’ is silent) a name given to them by descendants of the original inhabitants of the land, the Djarra people. It means Earth Nest.

It’s early morning, dew is still on the ground and the birds chortle high in the  trees. In the clearing by the creek the smoke snakes up and around the tipis (teepees) as people stir to their early morning tasks. Up on higher ground a buffalo skull painted to represent the American flag, guards the sacred arbour. The ceremonial fire is set and waits to be lit. It seems homage is to Native American culture rather than indigenous Australian culture.

People have gathered on the Easter long weekend from near and far to celebrate the Wisdom of the Elders. One of  them is Nell Bell—life member of the Australian Storytelling Guild, proclaimed seanachie, respected elder and loved grandmother.

Nell represents the storytelling guild and she has come in search of stories that reflect the aims of the gathering— to honour the spirit, the sanctity of the land and the wisdom of the elders. 

They say powerful songlines traverse the district that was once home to the Djarra people but now the district is renowned for it’s invigorating mineral waters and spas, its plethora of New Age industries, great food and wine. As Nell and friends pass through the cappuccino capital of Victoria and its streets teeming with indulgent tourists it seems more a hedonist’s paradise than the site for serious spiritual reflection. 

Onto a rough bush track off the back Glenlyon road and bush poles strung with a huge canvas sign indicate they’ve found the gathering. Cars are parked in a paddock, so a walk down to the house and camping sites is necessary. Through the gates and down the rough driveway to the house and campsite, but before they can enter they need to be smudged,a process whereby smouldering branches of gum trees and leaves are passed over and around their bodies to cleanse them. People involved have a serious reverence towards these rituals.

During the morning people trickle down this road into the valley like grains of sand in an hourglass until a microcosm of the world’s people are colourfully represented. Indigenous cultures represented by their elders include Native American Indians, Canadians, Maoris, Indonesians and the Djarra clan. They are, however, outnumbered by numerous lean young ‘ferals’ with matted hair, bright beads and colourful clothing.

People sit and lie in small groups around the arbour waiting for the fire to be lit. As a mark of respect descendants of the Djarra people have been asked to light the fire but they haven’t arrived from Bendigo for the official 11.00am start.

Nell decides to seek out some of the elders. She is curious to know how storytelling defines other cultures.

Along with sound recordist June Barnes and permission from Dan and Sue they approach Kalieran,  (Anak Agung Gede Oka Kalieran) from Bali. 

Kalieran is still rugged up as protection against the early morning cool weather—nut brown smiling face, snow-white hair, and twinkling eyes—he happily agrees to be interviewed.

Bali is a Sanskrit word that means ‘to return’, a reference to their migration from Java in the tenth century and their belief that they will one day go back. Many of their stories revolve around the history and background to their life in Bali. Children learn of their culture through storytelling with a special emphasis and love for dancing and shadow puppets. 

Kalieran informs Nell that their religion is based around the importance of remembering ancestors. It is bad luck not to acknowledge them. The Balinese strongly believe in Karma, the cosmic operation of retributive justice determined by your thoughts and actions. He laughs as he tells her that Balinese people are always doing good because they are afraid of Karma.
Nell pushes him for specific stories and he mentions The Mahabharata. This is the sacred book of the Hindus and is the world’s longest epic. Its central plot is about the conflict between spirits of evil —Kurus—and the spirits of good—Pandus. It is the source of thousands of stories. The Balinese use The Mahabharata on special occasions such as supporting families through a death.

During their conversation a young lad walks around banging his bodhran drum to announce lunch is on. Nell    and Kalieran are fed first in acknowledgement of their status as elders. 

Nell comments, “Beef stew on Good Friday!”

After lunch Nell and June wander over to where Brenda Kerr, of the Djarra people, is preparing a bush humpy to be part of the opening ritual. She is still waiting for her mum and aunties to arrive. Brenda is nervous. She has never been spokesperson for her family before. She prefers to dance her stories. Nell quizes her about stories of the surrounding district and beliefs of her people but is saddened that her knowledge is quite scant.

Late in the afternoon when the Djarra elders have all finally arrived the ceremony begins. Dan and Sue led the crowd of 500 down into the valley to address them. People are welcomed and then move off in single file. Everyone passes through the fire lit next to Brenda’s humpy. It seems Australian Aboriginal people use smoke for cleansing as well. Slowly, steadily, everyone circles the arbour and finds a place to sit under the shade of the gum tree branches that make its roof.

Nell and the other elders are given seats at the front and the fire is lit. The Native American influence is strong, chanting drumming and pipe smoking are the focus of the ceremony. As the cool night air descends Nell decides to head back to town but will return the next day.

After chatting with Brenda and her family the previous day Nell is greeted by them like an old friend on her return. When they are asked to take their turn speaking at the fire Nell is invited to sit with them. First the native Canadian elders. Nell is disappointed—she is hoping to be uplifted but their stories are downbeat and talk of troubled times. Where she had hoped for shared wisdom, only tales of woe.

Next, a very nervous Brenda takes centre stage. Nell offers words of encouragement;

“Tell them about your home land.” 

“My people were always taught the three R’s—Respect, Responsibility and Religion. We always learnt that we must look after the land and its creatures. We listen to the birds; they bring us messages.”

Brenda struggled to find words, compared to the verbosity of the American elders; it was like a small flame slowly flickering. 

Next another indigenous Australian speaking for the first time—a woman from central NSW.  There was much sadness in her heart but she acknowledged a circle of elders that was helping her through. She dreams of great things for her people.

That night when Nell and her party left there was an overwhelming sense of sadness amongst them. Sadness evoked by the passing of an ancient culture and a floundering sense of identity.

It was Nell’s love and passion for stories that brought her to the gathering—her constant search for illuminating stories, and her belief in their power and importance in defining cultures. She wondered why others had come. 

People seemed to be desperately searching for spiritual enlightenment. Moments of ritual where fervently attended—arms by their side, palms facing up—people hoping to share and receive healing energies. Solemn and respectful of the elders as they waited to receive the wisdom.

“I thought this would be more of a celebration,” commented Nell. “Everything seems so gloomy and serious.”

On the last day Nell finally experienced a joyful shared moment, something to bring a glimmer of hope and understanding.

Brenda’s uncle and others of his dancing troupe had arrived, after performing elsewhere, to take part in the closing ceremony. In his loincloth and decorative paint he made an impressive figure. People waited for his words of wisdom.

“Today I am going to perform an old sacred dance of my people. It is very special and all those who would like to learn please stand up. This dance has come down through the ages and it is very important to the Djarra people. We call it The Putcher Dance.”

People stood and prepared themselves. They waited for the understanding that would come through knowledge of the dance—innocently hopeful. The old man led them on.

“Okay everyone. Ready?”

Anticipation was high and the old man began.

“You put your right foot in.”

Nell did all she could to contain herself from laughing uproariously. Laughter, as always, is the best medicine.

She watched as it dawned on the participants the old man had strung them along with a joke. At last, light hearted sharing of cultures.

Before Nell left the gathering she swapped telephone numbers with Brenda and her mum Nola. She promised to keep in touch. 

Before it is too late Nell wants the descendants of the Djarra people to start preserving their stories. From this first flickering and representation at a spiritual gathering Nell hopes to urge them on and remind them of the importance of stories. She is adamant that Australians need the stories of our landscape and the wisdom of our indigenous elders.

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