I remember the feeling well: the excitement buzzing in my stomach, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the flutter of concern on whether what I was about to do would soar high or leave me in echoing silence.
For years comedy was pretty much all I thought about. My bookshelves were bursting with biographies of comedians, scriptwriting books and improv theory. I was up until 2am several nights a week and was constantly pushing shows with names that were terrible puns on friends, acquaintances and near strangers. I was insufferable, in only the way that someone desperately in love can be (sorry everyone!)
And for a few years it was great. Well, great enough. Comedy took up my time and was a great reason to not think about all the problems I was avoiding. Instead I would spend hours with friends trying to figure out the next "hilarious" pun for a show title and try to figure out how many funny voices I could do in one show (the answer: far too many). I was busy all the time, too busy to quite put a finger on why I felt so awful most of the time and why I had this strange feeling that I was lying to everyone.
Then like a bad boy on a motorcycle rolling into town in a Ronette's song, storytelling wheeled in my life. I started hearing about a new show called The Toronto Moth Up from friends, and as soon as I went I was hooked. Listening to people tell true stories about their lives, stories that revealed something about themselves and that connected the audience to each other in a way I'd never experienced before was incredible. I would leave shows feeling like I had been let in on a secret. It felt like I understood others, and myself on a level that I never had before.
Suddenly, comedy shows (at least most comedy shows) didn't have the same appeal. Yes, I still loved jokes and (God help me) stupid pun titles, but something was missing. Everything felt a bit…empty. After I had experienced people revealing big, universal truths, jokes about farts didn't seem as funny and one-dimensional female characters REALLY BUGGED ME.
So I crafted a scheme, I created my own storytelling show "Awkward" where people told true, embarrassing stories in order to manufacture that same feeling for myself. And like any gateway drug it led to more and more. I co-created a show called "Dare" and started to get to know the incredibly talented, smart, kind and hilarious story show producers around town. People who inspired me to be more honest in my comedy and in my own storytelling. To be willing to be vulnerable in a way I never had been before.
I was also learning more about the many tellers in the city who told cultural stories and teachings which I was surprised to find taught me so many things about my modern life despite the stories being hundreds of years old. I followed their brave adventures and their incredible risks and was inspired.
And suddenly, much like a character in one of the tales I had heard, I could no longer go back to the comedy I was doing before. I realized that it wasn't even comedy that was the problem, it was the fact that I wasn't telling the truth in any of it. So I broke up with comedy, or the silly voices that I was pretending was comedy.
I started to try being vulnerable, both in my performances and in my real life. And the result was incredible adventures, wonderful friends and the WEIRDEST STUFF you can imagine.
This was also when I learned about all the amazing story work being down around the city, and the epi-centre of this work, Storytelling Toronto and the Toronto Storytelling Festival. The festival presents incredible tellers from around the world and across Canada. I have been lucky enough to work with them for two years and have watched rooms full of people spellbound by local treasures like Sage Tyrtle or Métis elder Ron Evans. I can't wait for this year's attendees to have the same beautiful experiences I have and to fall in love (or re-new their passion) with this wondrous art form.
And in case you were wondering, comedy and I have started seeing each other again. We're taking it slow, but it turns out in all relationships, including ones with a concept, being truly yourself is the key.
The Toronto Storytelling Festival takes places April 1-10th across Toronto and includes TWO FREE DAYS of family storytelling at Harbourfront on April 9 & 10th.
The post How Storytelling Changed My Life appeared first on Shedoesthecity.
from Shedoesthecity http://ift.tt/1SgYphp
How Storytelling Changed My Life http://ift.tt/1SgYphp Erin Rodgers
I remember the feeling well: the excitement buzzing in my stomach, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the flutter of concern on whether what I was about to do would soar high or leave me in echoing silence.
For years comedy was pretty much all I thought about. My bookshelves were bursting with biographies of comedians, scriptwriting books and improv theory. I was up until 2am several nights a week and was constantly pushing shows with names that were terrible puns on friends, acquaintances and near strangers. I was insufferable, in only the way that someone desperately in love can be (sorry everyone!)
And for a few years it was great. Well, great enough. Comedy took up my time and was a great reason to not think about all the problems I was avoiding. Instead I would spend hours with friends trying to figure out the next "hilarious" pun for a show title and try to figure out how many funny voices I could do in one show (the answer: far too many). I was busy all the time, too busy to quite put a finger on why I felt so awful most of the time and why I had this strange feeling that I was lying to everyone.
Then like a bad boy on a motorcycle rolling into town in a Ronette's song, storytelling wheeled in my life. I started hearing about a new show called The Toronto Moth Up from friends, and as soon as I went I was hooked. Listening to people tell true stories about their lives, stories that revealed something about themselves and that connected the audience to each other in a way I'd never experienced before was incredible. I would leave shows feeling like I had been let in on a secret. It felt like I understood others, and myself on a level that I never had before.
Suddenly, comedy shows (at least most comedy shows) didn't have the same appeal. Yes, I still loved jokes and (God help me) stupid pun titles, but something was missing. Everything felt a bit…empty. After I had experienced people revealing big, universal truths, jokes about farts didn't seem as funny and one-dimensional female characters REALLY BUGGED ME.
So I crafted a scheme, I created my own storytelling show "Awkward" where people told true, embarrassing stories in order to manufacture that same feeling for myself. And like any gateway drug it led to more and more. I co-created a show called "Dare" and started to get to know the incredibly talented, smart, kind and hilarious story show producers around town. People who inspired me to be more honest in my comedy and in my own storytelling. To be willing to be vulnerable in a way I never had been before.
I was also learning more about the many tellers in the city who told cultural stories and teachings which I was surprised to find taught me so many things about my modern life despite the stories being hundreds of years old. I followed their brave adventures and their incredible risks and was inspired.
And suddenly, much like a character in one of the tales I had heard, I could no longer go back to the comedy I was doing before. I realized that it wasn't even comedy that was the problem, it was the fact that I wasn't telling the truth in any of it. So I broke up with comedy, or the silly voices that I was pretending was comedy.
I started to try being vulnerable, both in my performances and in my real life. And the result was incredible adventures, wonderful friends and the WEIRDEST STUFF you can imagine.
This was also when I learned about all the amazing story work being down around the city, and the epi-centre of this work, Storytelling Toronto and the Toronto Storytelling Festival. The festival presents incredible tellers from around the world and across Canada. I have been lucky enough to work with them for two years and have watched rooms full of people spellbound by local treasures like Sage Tyrtle or Métis elder Ron Evans. I can't wait for this year's attendees to have the same beautiful experiences I have and to fall in love (or re-new their passion) with this wondrous art form.
And in case you were wondering, comedy and I have started seeing each other again. We're taking it slow, but it turns out in all relationships, including ones with a concept, being truly yourself is the key.
The Toronto Storytelling Festival takes places April 1-10th across Toronto and includes TWO FREE DAYS of family storytelling at Harbourfront on April 9 & 10th.
The post How Storytelling Changed My Life appeared first on Shedoesthecity.