Listen to the audio version of this post here.
The Search for Silver Linings
You know how it is, looking for those silver linings? I have found a few, as I’ve been thinking about the Last Story Standing contest.
I’m on a quest for silver linings because (not to bury the lead) mine was not the last story standing in the contest sponsored by the National Speakers Association Illinois. And yes, that was disappointing.
Maybe you could relate to our exchange from a couple of weeks ago. I hate competition and I don’t like to be judged, remember? I heard from enough of you to know I’m not alone in that.
I went ahead and entered this competition anyway. It would be a great learning experience, I reasoned, a chance to challenge myself, and it might even be fun.
So, I competed. I was judged. And … now I’m trying to look on the bright side.
Here’s what I’ve found.
As the first storyteller of the evening, I broke the ice and broke it well. I loosened up the audience and helped people get in the mood for more stories.
My story got some good laughs. That always boosts the energy in a theater. Or a conference room at the office. Or a hotel ballroom. Wherever we’re speaking, humor is almost always a plus.
Command of the room? That’s one of my biggest strengths. And … I didn’t forget any details. I’d worried about that. The story didn’t come out word-for-word the way I’d practiced it, but it was damn close.
I didn’t stumble or drop my cane to hear it clattering to the stage. My bright pink jacket looked terrific against the navy-blue curtain behind us.
My post-story exchange with the MC was fun! Working with Jeff Rogers for those few minutes reminded me of being on the radio with on-air partners. And the people in the seats seemed to enjoy it too.
Then when I came out into the theatre during intermission, I was able to talk with friends and fellow speakers in the audience. I got such an enthusiastic response, I started to think I had a shot. Not to win, probably, but maybe second or third place. And that would have been fabulous.
And then came the announcement.
I stood on stage with the other five finalists as the MC announced the third-place finisher, and then the second, and finally the winner. I’m thrilled for my friend Martina Mathisen; she really worked at this.
And. I was disappointed not to hear my name! Ugh. This hits right at the heart of a longtime issue of mine—it is so hard, not being picked.
Turns out it’s even harder when a theater’s worth of people are watching me not get picked. I did my best to keep smiling. And clapping for my colleagues as their names were called. And I think I succeeded at that.
Here’s the brightest silver lining.
A lot of people in the audience told me they were surprised not to hear my name up there. Of course, those people are my friends. Naturally they thought I was terrific.
The big silver lining is that there were so many of them. We had 60-some people in the theater … and 17 of them were my sister and my friends! Apparently, I know how to fill a room.
I was so grateful to friends who came to the show. Some of them had told me they were getting tickets. Some just showed up and surprised me. It was delightful. And I felt lucky to have their support!
Maybe you can relate—I sometimes feel, since my husband died, as if I’m alone in the world. Last Story Standing showed me very clearly that I’m not. And isn’t that a blessing!?!
Catherine,
You are so genuine. I love the way you reveal your thoughts & feelings.
Yes, I try to be real when I write my newsletter, Janet. Although sometimes it’s tempting to put a better face on whatever the issue is, I believe in the long run my readers are better served when I’m straightforward. And so am I. Thanks for digging my work!
Very kind of you not to bury the lead. Though I was disappointed at the news, you certainly made every word worth reading!
I thoroughly enjoyed reading the story behind story! Indeed, you found the most beautiful (and, from my perspective, most essential) silver lining of them all: connected, supportive friendship. Thank you for this very honest and heartfelt post.
And thank YOU, Fred, for your support. I like to think that most people would rather read something real than a piece that’s dressed up to make me look better. (Although I will say the photo Christiana took looks pretty damn good!)
You have a gift for sharing the perfect insights at the perfect times. I had a similar experience earlier this year. I entered one of my one-woman plays into a fringe festival (an uncurated, unjuried performance festival). It would cost me money to travel to the festival, but I liked the idea of gaining experience with new audiences, hopefully gaining some reviews (to use as publicity) and maybe, maybe winning one of the festival’s awards. I’ve never won an award for one of my shows, and it would be so exciting to win.
Well, I did my best and gave some shows that felt terrific. Maybe I didn’t have the biggest audiences, but I’d never done this before. I’d worked hard to publicize my shows, targeting both traditional press media and social media. The audiences weren’t huge but people did show up. They seemed engaged and I was proud of my performances. But in the end …. nada. No reviews, positive or negative. And no awards.
The awards all seemed to go to the really weird, experimental shows (which my brain immediately told me were just “innovation for innovation’s sake” rather than outstanding theater). Now, maybe it’s true that I didn’t realize the festival wanted experimental, weird, unusual formats. That’s possible. It’s also possible I just wasn’t as good as others. Or that I didn’t promote the show as well as I could have. Or any number of other things.
But like you, I’ve been thinking lately about how to find meaning in the experience. And it’s surprising what you realize. In your case, it was amazing that such a strong, powerful network of friends and family showed up to support you and cheer you on. In my case, it’s made me think about whether or not I want my performances to be less traditional. Maybe I could make my shows more dynamic by following a less expected approach. Or not, it’s my choice. And whether fringe festivals are right for what I like to do. Maybe I prefer more traditional theater pieces. Maybe this was a case of “not my time, not my place” and that’s fine. Not every place I perform at will be “my time, my place”.
I keep going back in my head to a quote from Jane Wiedlin of the Go-Go’s. She was interviewed a few years ago and talked about the band’s success and failure, especially since the band was so wildly successful when they started and then experienced a big decline. Looking back on all that, she said, wisely,
“Now, honestly, I really feel like the person I am today would not exist without all the failure I went through and all the success I ever had never taught me one damn thing. Never.”
I agree in large part. I’ve always learned exponentially more from the experiences where I “failed” than from successes. Success feels wonderful, for sure, but my deepest learning and growth as a person have come from my “failures.”
Thank you, Leslie, for sharing the quote from Jane Wiedlin. Yes, it resonates. You’re right–it feels better to succeed, whatever the project. And, I learn more when I fall short.
You’re also right about this: “…it’s my choice.” Nobody held a gun to my head and made me enter this contest. (Although my friend Martina Mathisen was very persuasive!) I did it to try something new–I’ve never thought of myself as a storyteller. And to get over myself about my fear of being judged, to go ahead and compete.
They don’t award a ribbon for it, but by those measures, Last Story Standing was a success for me.
Also, this post about the experience generated some thoughtful responses. I cherish all of you.
I have heard both of you speak/perform numerous times…and so don’t doubt for a minute that you are both expert and engaging!
I wonder if a venue like NPR’s “The Moth Radio Hour” or a storytelling festival (like the Fox Valley one that takes place on Labor Day weekend in Geneva, IL) would gain momentum with audiences more aligned with your presentations? Just a thought.
Who (or what organizations) would be your most powerful and persuasive reviews and recommendations – and how can you reach out to them ahead of time? Or someone who would a feature story about your work?
This also makes me think of kids on sports teams who have a chance to “play up” – meaning they get to play a team at the next grade level and stretch themselves. Perhaps consider another professional (or two) who has a similar style and content but who is crushing it (like you wish you were)? What are they doing? Who are their audiences? Where are they presenting? Even reaching out for a conversation (as long as you are not in competition with them) could be enlightening – and maybe inspire some new opportunities or open some new doors.
I wish you more success!
Thanks for your good wishes, Paula. You know, I’ve never listened to The Moth, although I’ve heard a lot about it. I can’t remember the last time I turned on a radio; I’m a podcast person these days. This whole storytelling experience did convince me that I should check out The Moth and see how they judge stories and what kinds of stories resonate the most. I was saying I’d never try this storytelling thing again, but I’m already feeling more open to it, partly because of the wonderful responses I’ve received to my story about storytelling.
Well put. Often it’s the process not the plastic trophy on a marble base. I think radio taught us all that. “This morning’s show was good regardless who happened to be listening.” Good for you Catherine.
Continue to “get it out of you” with or without an audience. It’s great medicine.
Best wishes!
You’re right, Tim. I did plenty of good radio programs without ever winning an award for any of them. And yes, I plan to continue speaking even though I didn’t get that trophy.
Catherine … I SO LOVED your wonderful reflection on this. Sorry I could not be there because I have no doubt that I would have loved ALL SIX of the stories … each for a different reason. Like you, I’m not a big fan of competition. No doubt it can stretch us but it can also ironically and needlessly divide us. I find it especially a bit odd when it comes to stories … since stories are simply not comparable.
I have always said to executives that I have coached on telling stories: it is never about YOUR story … it is about how your story reminds someone in your audience of their own story. A competition can turn story into performance … and in so many ways into the antithesis of the very nature of story itself — real, authentic, vulnerable. The most powerful story is not the one that entertains, but the one that helps us transform (while at the same time being incredibly engaging).
Something tells me that with a different set of judges, there would have been a different set of results … and perhaps a different set of results each time you changed the judges — because each judge judges based on how the story INDIVIDUALLY hits them from their own life journey. It is the way the story works and I’m sure that is how ALL SIX of the stories presented worked that evening. Perhaps on that night, the better approach would have been to have the whole audience rank vote … because isn’t that the real value of a story — how it landed with each and every person in the audience!
The bottom line that strikes me is that ironically YOUR STORY ABOUT THE STORY COMPETITION may actually be the best story of all. No doubt, it has stirred me reminding me of stories within. So I thank you so much for who you are and how you are AND for what you’ve shared.
PS … I especially loved the audio expression of your reflection!! 🙂
Your observations about storytelling are so helpful, John, especially because of your long experience speaking and coaching executives. I don’t think of myself as a storyteller at all–most of my speaking is more … I hate to use the word “instructional” but I really do group coaching more than performance. So this was a stretch for me.
You raise a possibility for me: using this story about the storytelling competition as a story itself. Our friend Kevin O’Connor told me exactly the same thing about an hour before I read your note. I’d be silly to ignore a suggestion from TWO beloved speakers! I’m going to start working on this new story.
And thank you for your appreciation of my audio version. I don’t think many people listen to those mini-podcasts. I love recording them, though. Spoken English is so much more expressive than written English can ever be, no matter how many italics, underlines, and exclamation points we use. The voice is a superior vehicle for conveying our thoughts, hopes, and dreams.
I love that. Have fun working on that. It will be a story that will be most instructional on many levels. And I would agree with you on the SPOKEN English. So very true … especially coming through someone like you who has such a gift in your voice and vocal expression. 🙂
I love your accounting of this experience. So honest and raw. We have all been there to some degree. I have to tell you that I “heard” a little Erma Bombeck in this one. And that made me smile.
Thanks, Nancy. I chuckled about “honest and raw.” I do think one of my gifts as a speaker is being willing to say what’s true for me, even if it’s embarrassing. (And it often is.) Glad you got a smile out of this piece.