LIVE – By Jacob Harrison

Part One – Talking Writing and Story Telling, 25 July 2013.

I crossed Victoria Road in Rozelle on a particularly cold July evening. After making my way from the City and its barrage of unpleasant smells, noises and people, Victoria Road seemed idyllically quiet in comparison. I made my way up the road passing inviting restaurants and cosy pubs, until I had to left the well-lit street and entered the darkness of Callan Park.

‘It was a psychiatric hospital,’ I learned later from a tall, scarf laden man, ‘The grounds are huge, there’s even a swimming pool further along, and you probably passed the tennis courts on the way in.’

I really hadn’t been paying attention to the facilities. All I could make out was the looming silhouettes of sandstone buildings, tiny isolated cottages, enormous old fig trees – it must be beautiful during lunch hour – but not right now. Now it was dead creepy. I heard the cackling of fruit batts above me and scurrying of possums in the trees that would kick the old flight or fight response in to action. Occasionally a dog-walker or jogger emerged from the darkness, I held on to my copy of Palahunik’s Damned tight just in case I needed to go upside anyone’s head. I still had no Idea where I was going, I just followed the occasional dimly lit green sign pointing the way to the NSW Writer’s Centre.

Copyright: Gibson Nolte
mail@gibsonnolte.com

I entered the building through the kitchen – I really was lost – it wasn’t until I made my way to the foyer of the historic Garry Owen House that I got an idea of the grandeur of the place. A restored Georgian Mansion, once an administrative building and school for nurses in the old Callan Park Mental Hospital, it now serves as the NSW Writer’s Centre. As the foyer began to fill up I realised that I was amongst the youngest there – which is always nice, but I thought there would have been a younger demographic attending a discussion on live story-telling events. At first I felt a little out of place and a little bit dumb in this company; a tweed jacket with leather elbows, maybe even a smoking pipe would have made feel a little more comfortable, but I needn’t have worried. The crowd was open and chatty, the atmosphere made all the more hospitable by the surprising warmth of the building and the fragrant odour of mulled wine.

I am a major fan of Live Story telling – even though I have only experienced it through my ear phones so far. I want to experience the Sydney story telling scene, and this was a great opportunity to get a lay of the land; a discussion on live storytelling events, made popular through podcasts like The Moth, This American Life and RISK!, usually held at bohemian style pubs and bars in Brooklyn and other hip and faraway places. I expected more twenty-thirty somethings, but the fifty-sixty somethings were representing tonight.

Copyright: Gibson Nolte
mail@gibsonnolte.com

The Audience made its way into an adjacent room where we were joined by the nights panellists. The panel consisted of Sheila Pham, her articles and personal essays have appeared in Kill Your Darlings and The Big Issue Australia, she is also a producer of Now Hear This story-slam held at the Arthouse Hotel on Pitt Street. Also on the panel was Ben Jenkins, writer and comedian; along with his own blog abafflingordeal.com, Ben is a contributor to The Vine and The Daily Life, as well as co-creator of the live storytelling event, The Story Club at The Raval in Surry Hills. Finally Belinda Lopez, Executive Producer for ‘All the Best‘ on FBi Radio, Belinda has worked extensively in documentary radio and journalism at home and abroad, she can be seen telling stories at live events all around Sydney.

Sheila asked, ‘Has anyone been to a live story telling event before?’ There was a resounding silence as the panel waited for a response and the audience surveyed each other. No one looked really sure if they had or hadn’t.

‘I once went to a story telling event in when I was in Brittain,’ the voice came from the other side of the grey head in front of me, ‘it was held in a castle.’ She continued to explain, but I’m not entirely sure what it was she went to, but it didn’t sound like a live story telling event – at least I don’t think so.

There was some time spent sorting out what is meant by ‘Live story telling event. A live story telling event is not a poetry-slam, or a book reading. It doesn’t stick to a strict script necessarily, and it isn’t fiction.

Sheila began by explaining the event she produces for ABC Radio National, Now Hear This. The event is held at the Arthouse Hotel in central Sydney from 7pm on the last Wednesday of every month, drawing a broad audience from RN listeners, business people winding down after work, hipsters, artists, writers – anyone after a good yarn. Each night has a broad theme, the potential story teller’s put their name in to a hat and if their name is drawn they have five minutes to tell their story. The winner is picked by teams of judges chosen from the audience with first, second and third place get a prize.

                Sometimes stories work, sometimes there are flops. Some stories will make you laugh, some will make you cry, often both. They may not be able to air some stories on RN due to legal reasons, but the only censorship on the night is the story teller’s, usually to protect the innocent – story tellers, especially Australian story tellers are particularly self-deprecating.

‘What’s the ratio of happy stories to sad stories?’ A lady asked Sheila.

‘It really depends on the night, the theme and the audience. That’s part of the attraction of live story telling events; the spontaneity and the interaction between the story teller and the audience.’

‘Yes, but could you give me a rough estimate? Like sixty-forty, fifty-fifty?’

The panel exchanged raised eyebrows, no one could really answer that – but she really wanted to know.

No matter if the story is happy or sad or what the story teller is like, audiences are almost always supportive and engaged – unless they smell something funny.

‘People have an in-built bullshit detector.’ Ben piped in. ‘At The Story Club evenings there’s a somewhat more formal structure. They’re all true stories, but there’s a selection process and the stories are workshopped before the night between the story teller and myself and co-producer, but things can still go awry on the night.’

Ben spoke about one story teller he had workshopped with. Everything was prepared, and although digression and spontaneity can be exciting and embellishment expected, this one story teller just went over the top. No one was rude, but people stopped engaging with the story teller; out and out lies really stink the place up.

Belinda contested that this was not always the case; she recalled an experience she had at a live story telling event. A young Irish girl told a harrowing story, from her arrival in Australia to being tricked in to working at a property in outback NSW, so far out and paying so little that it was essentially indentured servitude, and she was eventually forced in to prostitution. The audience was utterly shocked and moved by the young girl’s story, as was the audience on this night.

‘Turns out she made it up!’ Belinda quipped, met by the audiences’ sounds of disbelief.

It was discovered during post-show drinks that the girl made it up; the revelation spread through the pub like chicken pox and people were equally as irritated. Although the story was false, she never said it actually happened to her.

Semantics. I would have been so pissed. It’s the empathy, the exposure of wounds, the compatriotism, the raw emotional connection between an audience and a story teller that initiates a  kind of catharsis – that’s what’s drawn me to the live story telling scene. Or at least at this stage, story telling podcasts. It was interesting what Ben had said earlier, that there were plans to make The Story Club in to a TV show. They filmed some performances that on the night were exciting, punchy, and entertaining, but watching them back they were ‘boring as bat shit. It’s so hard to translate the energy of the night.’ I was looking forward to experiencing that energy myself.

Ben expanded on Belinda’s point, ‘What draws people to these events is a need for self-authenticity. That’s probably why a large portion of the audiences are often artists and writers, in their late twenties to early thirties – pre-midlife crisis types.’ Ben looked at the audience tonight, and continued, making reference to this audience, ‘We need more older people to come to these events – not old – but older than us. After all, we’re in our twenties, we haven’t done anything yet!’

The night came to a close and people began to leave, I said a quick thankyou and goodbye, and made my way back to Victoria Road through the darkness of Callan Park. As I walked, I slowly digested the evening. I had to decide what to do with this new information. Being an avid fan of story telling podcasts, I got used to feeling sorry for myself that I couldn’t get to a Moth live show in the States. Now I find there is indeed a thriving story telling scene here in Sydney, so what do I do now?

After years of passive learning, writing much but publishing little thanks to my own lack of effort mixed with fear, its time to take action. It’s time to put myself out there, get networking, try on new things and see how they fit. Sooner than later I would like to be able to sustain myself through my various media wares.

The first step has already be taken – this blog. I am going to slip up from time to time (before you comment I am well aware my grammar sucks), but doing so in public will give me the opportunity to learn from my mistakes, fast. My next step is to attend three story telling events in Sydney, culminating in telling my own story, live in front of an audience. I’ll start by going to the next Now Hear This, followed by The Story Club a week later. My third stop will be the following weekend, Tell Me A Story, then I’ll bring it back to Now Hear This at the end of August where I will hopefully tell my own story. I’ll report back on what the evenings are like – the stories, the story tellers, the atmosphere, the audience, and how little old me fits in to the nights happenings. Cross your various bits, wish me luck and Stay Tuned!