Stories. They're universal and yet unique. Children clamor for them
at bedtime, saying, “Just one more!” When we meet someone from the past, it can
often turn into a chorus of, “Do you remember?” And, when we meet someone new,
it's one of the markers of friendship, the peeling back of the onion, as we
reveal our stories to one another. This blog will explore collective storytelling, primarily focused on the intersection of the internet and storytelling projects.
One of the most famous crowd-sourced storytelling projects is The Moth, a non-profit
organization that travels around the United States, plus Canada and the United
Kingdom, and holds storytelling events. The tickets are quite cheap, around 10 to 16 dollars, and they sell out fast. People who want to tell a story drop their names into a hat, and the lucky ones who are chosen get up on
stage one by one and tell a true story, something personal. The only rule is that the story should have something to do with the night's theme, such as “A
Claim to Fame," “Fish Out of Water," or “The Accident.” Plus, the storyteller must tell his or her story using no notes, truly performing. The winners are chosen by judges in the audience, and their stories get posted on The Moth's website.
I heard about The Moth
by word of mouth from someone in my writing group. She told us that she
absolutely loved it and then said, “But, it's like crack! It's so addictive.
Don't check it out unless you have a lot of time on your hands!” I didn't have
any time to spare, so I waited, the thought of this untasted delicacy
tantalizing. Then, this summer, I plunged in. I went to their website and clicked on a story. After the first one, I though, “Just one more,” as I
clicked listen again. And on and on. I listened for four hours that first day.
I was hooked. I listened to people's stories as I washed the dishes and sorted
the laundry and swept the floor.
The stories people tell are by turns astonishing, hilarious, and
heartbreaking. People from many different walks of life with many different accents
tell stories that are as vivid as a film. I got chills when I listened to the
story of a Freedom Rider during the civil rights movement, who told a story of
how he was nearly killed by the police—just for riding in the same car as a white girl [I Want to Be a Freedom Rider]. I
laughed at author Neil Gaiman's wry humor as he detailed the woes of being stuck in a train station at sixteen [Liverpool Street]. I teared up when I listened to a mother's story of her child's
death [Treading Water]. Hearing people's stories in their own voices is
entirely different from simply reading them on a page. The New Yorker's accent
makes me feel as if I'm in the Big Apple, sitting in a coffee shop, and the
Southerner's drawl lets me close my eyes and imagine being on a porch swing,
sipping a glass of cold sweet tea in the sultry summer heat.
I couldn't help thinking, what story would I tell? How about
the crazy journey through Italy with my sister, during which any mode of
transportation we took seemed to be cursed? Or what about the day that I
slipped and fell at school, gashing open my forehead and getting rushed to the
emergency room? Or how about the time I received a mysterious note, sending me
on an unexpected treasure hunt?
What story would you tell? Sound off in the comments.
Resources and links list:
themoth.org
http://www.cliffbells.com/faqs/the-moth/
http://themoth.org/posts/stories/i-want-to-be-a-freedom-rider
http://themoth.org/posts/stories/liverpool-street
http://themoth.org/posts/stories/treading-water
http://www.slate.com/articles/life/drink/2007/08/i_wish_i_lived_in_a_land_of_lipton_.single.html
