Performing Contemporary American Fiction

Storytelling Written Fiction...

I love storytelling - I love it not least because it frees one from all constraints of how literary work 'should be done'. When I first became aware of it, it seemed to be some strange branch of theatre, but one I didn't understand as while lots of movement and emphasis and voices were in order, the lack of props, costumes, sets and lighting phased me. And of course the extremely stripped down cast... That was then. It's long since I've seen it as an amazing artform - fluid, dynamic, spontaneous - with room for both the polished drama of a speech in the mouth of a hero or powerful narrator, to pocket or full length play all created by one person, sometimes with only one 'voice', and minimal or no props... An artform as old as mankind, that harks back to some of the most vital parts of our 'intangible heritage' - oral history, myth, legend, folklore, folk tales. An art that automatically combines words with performance, and uses movement in gesture, asks, as the scops did in the Dark Ages, for music, and that can be very visual and even use dance. An art that carries its history on its sleeve from The Epic of Gilgamesh to Viking Sagas to Medieval fairytales, and wears its erudition lightly, taking ancient clay tablets and obscure global heritage and fashioning it into something for your ear in the local pub. An art that crosses continents more effortlessly than most, as storytellers from all over the world tell tales from the other side of the world. That somehow, never having been to Sweden or Bulgaria say, I can bring them closer to me, the farmer/peasant culture of turnip tales from the 1600's or Sly Peter the fool figure whose first recorded mentions are also from 1600-1700 by telling those tales. I feel these cultures and past times are suddenly closer at hand, and can be conjured for others to do the same for them too.

The other magical thing about storytelling is its sheer flexibility. And so when I wondered about the relationship which there could be between written literary/post-mass literate society literature and real storytelling, I didn't come to any conclusions but instead just natural occurrences. (No conclusions that is, except that's its bloody hard to write a real fairytale with a true feel of the originals, and that many attempts to construct latterday folktales for oral telling instead of purely literary tributes, had fallen into the numerous pitfalls attendant on such an attempt. And that it was a lot harder than it looked! to retain the simplicity and wisdom of the real thing.)
Instead what happened was this; There were days when the next Storyclub would suddenly come up, and catch me completely unprepared. (For some reason I have never told the same tale twice at the Storyclub unless a second tale is called for - some fetish I suppose.) At which point I would glance round in trepidation, and my co-storyteller would ask me - well what story DO you remember? And it would be something which I had read - either recently, or in one case, years ago - while trawling through e-zines to make sure they were of a good enough quality to be of interest to readers of Spoken/Written Bulletin to be worth their while submitting to.

In every case so far, the stories which I have (in haste) recollected and then retold, have all been from contemporary American fiction. And very splendid examples they have been of them too - hence being so damn memorable that when it came to re-telling them, I could remember the plots and characters, give them all their voices, and fill in any missing details with the storyteller's 'spontaneous adaptation facility' (otherwise known as 'making it up as you go along') - despite sometimes having read them some time ago.

The Stories Themselves...

The first one was a startlingly memorable sci fi/fantasy story called 'Our House' by Paul Di Filippo. It has a repetition structure perfect for storytelling - there is a house with three floors (which all have their features), three couples live there, and each of the two main characters have two encounters apiece - it's also wacky, striking, and the kind of story that's so 'well of course', that you wonder why you hadn't written it yourself. But that of course, is its genius - to capture something that's parallel to what so many understand as being past/present/future, and also the problems and pleasures of shared house living...
The first time I performed it, the audience came to be in hysterics especially on the "Mrs Ab! We've only just met...!" line...it's just a case of getting the timing right on this most generous and perfectly put together of tales. I was thanked very kindly for telling it, and people said they could see why I had remembered it for so long!

Another amazing and completely different story is 'Requiem' by Joshua James Wilson Mattern. It's an incredibly powerful monologue of one man trying to decide what to say - or indeed whether to speak at all - at his estranged father's funeral. At the behest of his beloved sister Sherry, he decides he has to say something...it's a brilliant exploration into that mixture of love, hate, pity, anger and duty that runs through difficult family relationships, and his eventual resolution is, bizarrely both shocking - as is the first line - and 'right'. When I did that one, I felt (probably from drama training) that I became him, and when I stood at the end, I knew the whole audience was with me - it was cathartic, and people were very kind - one person coming up to me and saying 'that was incredibly powerful, and you are an amazing storyteller' afterwards. Just putting on one of my American accents (from drama) and getting lost in the wonderful writing of Joshua Mattern, it was more his triumph than mine, and I e-mailed the magazine afterwards to let them/him know. It was no surprise that they were nominating him for the Pushcart Prize! And were glad I had got in touch.

A story that was totally different again was a retelling or rather a latterday Southern folktale from the Deep South - I was looking at the web resources searching for tales for that month's theme, when I came across a great site called the The Moonlit Road. I flicked through and at once came upon a tale I liked the look of - 'Deal with the Devil'. It read so well and so classically like a folktale, that it was only after I had read it to learn it, that I realized it actually had an author and was a modern 'folktale' by David Hirt. It's very hard to write like a 'real' folktale, and I would class books like Angela Carter's 'The Bloody Chamber' firmly in the literary tradition. To write and capture the old oral mores and tensions in a story is really a lot harder than it looks. (I only have two short stories which I think come anywhere near, and one I'm not so sure about. The other I modify a lot when telling aloud, as well as cut down.) - So I was much impressed by 'Deal with the Devil' which has all the slow richness of a genuine tale from the Deep South - and I had the joy of using another American accent. This one also went down really well with the audience, and I think they thought it must be a 'folktale' without an author till the end, too.

Why do I tell American fiction? - perhaps it's the sheer number of e-zines out there to cater for the many writers of a vast country (but writing in English), or perhaps the strong 'voice' that we in the UK (or at least those of us raised on old films!) can really 'hear', but whatever it is, there's some true gems to be found and told. It's a pleasure to tell them, whether sci fi, monologue or folk story.

To check out these great stories;

Our House by Paul Di Filippo, published online at;
http://www.theedge.abelgratis.co.uk/ourhouse.htm

Requiem by Joshua James Wilson Mattern, published online at;
http://www.sleetmagazine.com/selected/mattern.html

Deal with the Devil by David Hirt published online at;
http://themoonlitroad.com/deal-with-the-devil/

Storyclub Upstairs at the Globe

October's Storyclub upstairs at the Globe is coming up, as well as a meeting of The Vibe - all arts network forum informal group, National Poetry Day and a couple of things so important to get done that they make you want to write a blog instead...but it's September's Storyclub I'm still remembering... As well as the very wonderful Tyburn Jig Theatre, of Dave Oliver and Jon Freeman who run - brilliantly - the Storyclub (and us regulars Widsith and Deor) there was the matchless Clive PiG the Storyfella. What a treat. Well first of all we all met up downstairs and caught up on what sort of summer season each of us had had, swapping tales of rain and shine, festivals, charming and crazy audiences... (I must admit to feeling like 'one of the big boys' when at a gathering of Dave, Jon, Clive, and also when Michael Dacre of the splendid Raventales turns up! - incidentally all hosts or former hosts of storyclubs.) And then the five of us went upstairs to tell our other tales. Last to arrive amongst the storytelling fraternity was David Heathfield, who does a lot of work in colleges and educational settings as well as at other events. The audience began arriving and carried on until it was a respectable size and the festivities began. Dave and Jon are always excellent, but often perform separately. This time however, they did turns together, and some chemistry was in the offing, which I was delighted to see. Dave is entrancing as a solo performer, but when he was (and from time to time still is) in the Guild of Fabulists with Clive, they have an incredible team chemistry which is always a pleasure to watch and hear, and worth paying good money to see, with each taking up the other's jokes, and the one doing the narration and the other the 'special effects', i.e. creaky doors, floors, weird noises and unexpected eerie voices! Dave and Jon had a different chemistry, and it was great to hear them working with the same story. There's a lovely feeling attendant on a storyteller's changeover, that isn't there in straight theatre, because the lines are learnt in the latter. In storytelling on the other hand, most of the time the cues are flexible, polished improvisation, even spontaneous, and always changing, so there's a trust involved that you don't get in other kinds of performance. Not like watching a trapeze catch exactly, but...! Jon brings more and more offbeat quirk to his tales, and you can tell Dave has worked in television. When Clive took the floor, it was with one about creepy 'Uncle Wolf' and a greedy kid who ate the pancakes intended for the said Uncle...He moved about the space and did the characters so completely 'in character', as well as the special effects of Uncle Wolf trying to get into the house, that at times it was like watching a one person film. He cranked up the suspense till we were on the edge of our seats, until finally and unexpectedly - the greedy boy got eaten by his hard done by if sinister Uncle! David Heathfield delivered his tales professionally with his customary mixture of fireside engagingness and quietly emphatic meaning, with flair and polish. We ourselves did two of our current favourites, including 'Lady Mary', a variation on Bluebeard and not a story I would have warmed to, except I liked our take on it (which evolved out of one choosing it and the other making suggestions until it became a duologue). Mixing grim horror with laugh out loud comedy. It was brilliant to shoot it past such a professional audience, as you know if they laugh, you've got the thing right! And we'll be doing that tale in our coming Autumn Festival Show 'Goblins and Ghouls, Fairies and Fools' (check out the Collective's website if interested - W&D link then Diary or New Show). Needless to say, in our version, Lady Mary gets the best of it... We all did two tales, and after the stories were finished, the rewarding audience stayed on - until we all told jokes and short tales until finally being ousted at closing time...What a great evening. One of the best nights out - and that's born out by friends I've brought along - in the city, and still only £3 for listeners, and free for tellers. Huge thanks to Clive for running the Big Potato as was, Michael of Raventales for running the Storyclub at the Globe, and Jon and Dave for taking it over a while back - and all of them for being such inspirational storytellers, and being responsible for so many cracking nights out!

Play Day Mayhem

   What a week - having got back from London on Sunday night, two Collective Cornish members turned up for dinner the next day, unexpectedly (first inkling was a call - 'Are you there?' 'Er...' 'Because I'm here' 'You mean...?') we talked of festival stuff, planned for the Play Day booking, caught up with each other. The next day more members (from N.Devon) turned up for dinner (planned this time) to talk festival workshops and be shown what the leather workshops involved. Eight guests all told plus a visitor - it's been a while since HQ was so full! It was good to sit and all be making things sitting on the floor of the Studio - reminded me of earlier days in the Collective when Sonia (now in NZ) used to sit us down and show us new skills. But it was hectic, having so much to communicate, arrange, sort out, a form to fill (of course), and skills to share, and socializing, all in a short space of time. Intensive is the best word for it all. 

   Then up early the next day for one of my not exactly favourite gigs of the year - a packed family fun day for National Play Day. I had nightmare memories of crowds of children all asking to be tied knots for, refusing point blank even to attempt to plait the simplest of plaits, the Pavilion heaving with people, trying to entertain the queue, and all the while trying to convince workshoppers that knots and plaits were some of mankind's oldest and most basic skills...as easy as they were important. 

   This time, as before, it threatened rain, and the road 'liable to fog' as it says on the sign was beautiful - full of shifting cloud and low mist as we travelled through the veils and the smoky drifting dreamscape of half-seen hills. We got there, put up the Pavilion, got out the willow and fabric, and before you could finish setting up, people started arriving. Like last time, it got warmer and less damp until the sun came out and it was hot, humid and then blue sky. And like last time, the workshops were extremely popular, the Pavilion varying between busy, crowded and heaving with people. There was a large heap of cut fabric, but I'd also brought some from the Collective storeroom as Wayne had said that more would be good. And I was glad I had! As pale pink/white netting was all the rage, and I seemed to spend hours just cutting the stuff into strips, and as fast as it was cut, it disappeared, as countless children only wanted pink/white netting...I cut and cut, sometimes made a small pile of strips, but always they came, and more asked for it, at times faster than I could cut them almost, and still the hordes streamed in...I glanced up from time to time, and saw fellow workshop hosts showing kids how to make wings or swords, bows, arrows, magic wands, making hoops, kids deciding they wanted to make something else, one a door! from willow... Some lovely wings were made as ever, a couple of striking swords and a huge bow... One child asked me - as the fabric I was cutting flowed on for metres, snaking across the ground, when I would finish? i.e., how long would it take to cut it all up? I replied that I was only cutting up what people needed, and had no intention of turning it all into ribbons in an afternoon! but it made me think of impossible tasks from old tales, like the king who made some hapless subject gather all the down feathers from a punctured feather pillow before they could leave the tower...! Time seemed to slow down, and every time we glanced at our watches, it was an hour earlier than we had thought, and the mess grew and grew, as of hosts that had invited a whole town to dinner, and the guests had started with throwing the food around, and then progressed to walking off with the furniture...by which I mean that bits of fabric and broken withy carpeted the grass, and adults came and helped themselves to three pre-made sets of wings in one go, to decorate them at home for their children (which wasn't quite the idea!). 

   I suggested people could make headdresses, crowns, and mobiles too, and made hoops and decorated one as a mobile-cum-headdress and hung it up, to illustrate what else one could do with the materials, and when children, boys and girls alike saw that, a number chose to make those, which made me glad. Having had no or little confidence with visual art or craft as a child or for a long time (indeed, up until what still feels like comparatively  recently) it's a real thrill when someone wants to own or make something like a thing I have made up myself. Some of the headdresses looked lovely, as workshoppers really got the hang of it, and one or two of the mobiles worked rather well, a splendid crown. Towards the end, the Police popped in (who had been stationed at the Play Day like the First Aid tent) and one requested and wore some fairy wings over her uniform! The organizer also appeared at the end, wearing her wings from last year! in shocking pink and dark purple.

   As we finished, the place looked like the scene of a shipwreck, and the three of us were left to clear up, two of us at least, yawning our heads off. The day went really well - we heard (as we often seem to) that our workshops were 'the best thing there'. I couldn't still help feeling though, that when I started off as a poet, this kind of work was about what I'd had in mind, as much as some literary poet from the 1930's would have had in mind as what they wanted to do...viz not at all. But we all went for a drink on the way back at a pub by the beach, and it was dazzlingly blue and clear and cheering. Once back at base, someone asked how it had gone, and I replied - 'Well, if we're all not flash for cash in early August and aren't double booked next year, I guess we'll all be going again.' To which she replied 'That's the spirit!' which made me laugh. (And all the while knowing I had an important meeting the next morning, and another form to be filled by the morning after that!)

   Yes. And however much it wasn't what I ever had in mind, it did go well. We taught folks new skills, all the workshoppers including the carers/parents/playleaders had a great time, the organizers were so delighted they booked us there and then for next year... And there were some laughs along the way - like Wayne dancing to the music while showing folks how to weave a piece of willow, or my fellow storyteller telling a tale while making some wings, so not doing all of the movements, and telling sitting down! something he never usually does. The enchanted parents, and the pride of those who had made good designs and those who had not realized they could make things...not being able to resist taking photographs when everyone had gone, of the mobile in the wind, as the effect that that kind of fabric makes on film is just remarkable...

   As Hope Clark says - don't just look forward to your longterm ambitions, enjoy the getting there, enjoy the journey! to which I can add - yes, and enjoy the detours along the way too, and all the parallel pathways...

A Weekend's Wackiness

Had a crazy weekend performing and having a book stall at the Summer Science Day at Tapeley Park a few days ago, part of the North Devon Festival. Yolande of Bideford College had booked the Junk Carnival (one of the many workshops/events that the Collective offers) and us storytellers plus 'Porlock the Warlock' stall. The weather started cloudy, and rained a bit on the way...we looked at the sky warily. Tapeley Park front lawn being one of the windiest venues we regularly do, as the wind comes straight off the estuary and sea below! A fantastic view, but...I remember last summer, and out of the three events we did there, one time there seemed to be a force 10 gale blowing off the estuary, and there were only four of us battling to put up the Pavilion (there's an image of it on the Collective homepage etc.) and it had ideas of its own about turning into a giant kite, and whisking the lot of us off to Oz... 

   This time, however, we had better weather! Having looked gloomy, it cheered up, only spat and then got sunny later. The wind was a bit of a trial - laminated posters are all very well, and cards in plastic boxes, books are good and heavy, but flyers... But the stall kept together nonetheless. It was all go, with the Pavilion on one side, and an awning on one of the vans. Our big new, if homemade - sign for the website looked eye-catching, and Wayne made a stand for it there and then with his customary skill. We caught up with one of the Collective's newer members and partner, and performed in their own stylish awning-space which went up a bit later on... So that we were quite a set up! Pavilion, large van plus awning, even bigger van plus another awning, with various spaces in front for flag making and carnival dragon construction...! I sometimes think the Collective could put on a festival by itself... There was lots going on, and many attractions, fellow storyteller Deor warmed up the audience for the magician, who then passed on to us, who then handed over to Victorian re-enactors from Exmoor Zoo. - Including a very convincing Charles Darwin - complete with tarantula, skunk, and the rest! We met some interesting people, and the Junk Carnival itself was packed - kids and parents making and painting flags and banners, all the recycling rubbish we'd been saving up put to excellent use in some wonderfully effective and quirky musical instruments! The parade seemed to go on forever, at 3pm, and the video is now up on the Carnival's microsite. The prize giving was terrifying as hordes of small folk surged about, and I pointed out the judges so they could surge that way instead, for the prize giving. It looked like a miniature army - or was that the sheer number of flags and drums and having been to one too many Civil War battles...? Krafka the She-Troll and Darwin awarded the prizes, including a 'Porlock' book, and altogether it fitted well with the event which was a great success and very well attended. 

   Other stuff included making a juggling video on Sunday morning for another new associate member, and the party on Saturday night...the music was great - pure electronic dance/trance/house, but the volume - was that legal?? Still, the glade was a great place for it and the lights did the business. 

   Thanks must go to 'Charles Darwin' for being such a sport and a good judge, and Yolande for organizing the whole thing with such unfailing professionalism and good-humour!  

The Long-awaited Launch of the Sculpture Park

What a week! And thankfully the weather was up to it. Last Saturday saw us storytellers performing at the official launch of the sculptural environmental play area in St. Buryan, designed by a member of the Collective artist's network, and friend. Mel has worked for months on this project, and has done wonders with the space. It boasts an earthcave/earthhouse in the shape of a barrow, a beautiful wooden climb-in ship sculpture - designed by Jo also of the Collective - an amphitheatre (for storytelling! naturally...) mosaic pillars and stepping stones with a theme of rockets and stars, willow maze, arches, fence, herb garden, stone circle border, pump fountain, carved wood pillar entrance...! and altogether, while built as an environmental 'natural play area', it really is an interactive work of art and a wonderful piece of landscape design. Whilst only involved with it in a support-for-the-designer, occasional bits of admin like taking photographs for the website, Collective kind of way, we storytellers still felt proud to be connected with it, and delighted to be asked to perform at its opening. As John Le Carre said in his speech to open it, it's a unique space, and will end up being an attraction in its own right, and far from just a local feature. The amphitheatre was a lovely space to perform in, and the body-masks leered at the audience from behind us, like uninvited guests when not in use, while the flags rippled in the breeze. Classic moments included one little kid trying to climb into the Dragon's mouth, and pick the nose of the Goblin! when they were lying by after the end of a set. Our first ever performance of the classic Cornish folk story 'The Mermaid of Zennor' went down especially well, and in the evening we did an informal shorter set for adults who'd been working serving food and drink all day, which met with much hilarity and applause. Thanks to all at St. Buryan Community House for being such sporting hosts! 

   Another blog would be the trials, tests and parties of the Collective, what tales to tell of how this place was built, and the many involved in it and with it...would make a great novel, but hey, who wants to be sued?

     The week's other performances and events will have to wait till another post, as another Edition's just gone off, but as ever that means the website is waiting for updates, there's signage and flyers to do for more events, invoices still to be sent and......................eventually some time off hopefully.

The Merry Merry Month of May

Wow. Sometimes - especially after filling in lengthy forms to uncertain ends, overworked festival organizers deciding that instead of this or that which you actually offered, they'd rather you built them a willow cave instead, and you nearly agreeing to it, until you work out the time involved for the money you're likely to make there and pulling out, sending off work to magazines that may reply sometime near Doomsday, etc., etc., - sometimes something happens that makes you remember why you became an artist (storyteller/writer/poet/whatever) in the first place. Such a thing was this Beltane weekend. We were off in the newly converted storytelling van (thanks Wayne of Van-tastic! fellow member of the Collective) to perform at the Outlore Festival - a private event and one of the most sought-after on the Live Action Role Play or LARP circuit. The site was amazing as always (it was our fourth time there, and our third Outlore) - a beautifully atmospheric Dark Age settlement set in an idyllic stretch of countryside near Okehampton. To add to the river, bluebells, and all the rest, in a clearing in the forest over a causeway on a hill is a small village of roundhouse, Viking longhouse and many other huts and structures and a wonderful attention to detail. There's always something going on and something to look at! And this time was no exception. It may not be straight re-enactment, for instance the 'baddies' are monsters not people, and the paying player-characters ultimately win, but it has a fine feel of authenticity nonetheless. Highlights were the invasion of the settlement by the (very tall!) wolf warrior, the coming into being of the bull god, and the entrance of Hel complete with a raven. There was a new fort built to house the enemy, and a skeleton hanging from a gibbet one could see for miles. Unlike some other places, it looked scarier the closer one got! and the constant sound of war drums added massively to the sense of impending storm. The weather (as at the other two Festivals) was perfect, and in the evening, few places are as lovely seen lit up. Our stories of fools, daydreamers and wisecracks made folk laugh out loud, while they waited for the siege, our riddles perplexed, and our epic battle poetry from Egil's Saga pleased the warriors. And we got more 'gold' and 'treasure' than ever before! as well as a fair share of mead. Music was by the excellent Goliards, in the evening and the lanterns and torches amongst all the film-like setting, with the spring leaves and the latticework of the branches on a clear darkening blue sky with a bright half moon above was simply magical. But the biggest thrill for me during Sunday was when the falconer let me hold the large raven on my wrist - it stood there majestically, and then tore a mouse to shreds that someone had bought it. It felt a strange privilege to have this large flying creature so close. The evening and sunset were about as heavenly as May offers, and in doing the last verse of the 7th century (possibly) poem 'Widsith' as Widsith, as the poet explains and justifies his position in Dark Age society, it made me feel connected - as ever - with the long line of 'Widsiths'...and all in all, I was reminded - yes, that's why I became a performer...! 

   Huge thanks to Dave and Jon of Tyburn Jig and the Dumnonni Chronicles for inviting us again, and to Dave for his immense feats of organization for the whole Outlore adventure, also to all the warriors, damsels and healers who liked our tales and gave us things, the Goliards of course, and especially to the falconer!