Do You Talk Funny?. David Nihill
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ground for TED-type talks. High-profile storytellers have included Malcolm Gladwell, Salman Rushdie, John Turturro, Annie Proulx, Gabriel Byrne, and AJ Jacobs. Not-so-high-profile storytellers include . . . some Irish guy who’s definitely not Gabriel Byrne.
The format is quite harrowing for anyone afraid of public speaking the way I am. You sign up, but there is no guarantee you will be called to tell a story. There are ten spots available and, most of the time, more than ten storytellers sign up. Names are drawn at random live on stage. At the insistence of my friends, I put my name in the hat, figuring I would let fate decide whether I appeared. Names are called immediately before you are expected to take the stage—you don’t know the order or even if you will be called—so there is little to do but wait.
The room is packed, and although the air conditioning blows with an arctic chill, I am sweating uncontrollably. Thankfully, I have learned to wear dark colors to hide the sweaty spots. After all, showing your humanity is important, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be sweaty.
Humanity, in fact, is one of the keys to great storytelling and great stand-up. One of The Moth’s great storytellers, the New Yorker writer Adam Gopnik, makes a distinction between good storytellers and good stories in that same light:
A good storyteller is somebody who’s comfortable on his or her feet and is enough of a ham to get a charge out of the response of a crowd, that surge of electricity that goes back and forth between you and an audience. If that does not turn you on you won’t be a good storyteller. A good story has to be extremely particular and peculiar to your life. It has to have an element of singularity and yet—and this is the alchemy and paradox of storytelling—it has to be something immediately universal, part of something that we all experience.10
As a good storyteller, you need to be totally human. Be vulnerable, embrace embarrassment, and vocalize failure before success. This was something stand-up comedian and Moth storyteller Mike Birbiglia tapped into when he described his first impressions of “making out” in high school: “It was like watching a dog eating spaghetti.” He thought kissing seemed weird, so he never tried it. But he told all his friends that he had. When it finally did happen, he says, “It was like eating the spaghetti and the fork.” He later recounts how, after his first make-out, the girl told his friends that he was a terrible kisser—an embarrassing public rejection, a universal fear that everyone has probably felt at some point in their lives. Rather than admit his inexperience, the true reason why he was “the worst kisser she’s ever kissed,” Mike tried to save face in front of his buddies: “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m a terrible kisser. That’s kind of my thing.”11 This is the essence of human nature and what people want to hear. They are quite happy to hear what a fool you have been before opening up to your success, and happier still if you never achieve it.
So as I sit in The Moth audience, with name after name drawn from the hat and read aloud by the host, Dhaya, who looks every bit the consummate stage professional, my nerves are multiplying with every passing second. Focusing on someone else’s story seems near impossible when fate has you on the clock. Storytellers come and go in agonizing slow motion. Maybe tonight I’ll be off the hook. Nine speakers have taken the stage and told their stories in front of a packed audience of strangers, while I am left sitting nervously cycling uncontrollably between hot and cold. Then finally, “Next to the stage, please give a warm welcome to our final storyteller, David Nihill.”
I am a bag of jelly by this point but keep my nerves in check by remembering one of the greatest things about storytelling: the story is yours. You know it better than anyone. You don’t have to train yourself to remember it. You have told it before to friends, family, or colleagues, whether at work, a dinner party, or some informal setting. You have done this before.
I start to relax once I am on stage. The previously intimidating crowd seems to blend into one friendly sea of faces. These people don’t want to see me fail—most people don’t. Ultimately people want to see other people do well and will cheer them on, especially if they connect or relate to them. Starting with a story gives you the best chance of doing this. Especially a story about yourself that you know. So I tell a story about my time living in Shanghai. It is my own. I know it better than anyone because it happened to me. And as I settle into my storytelling, I can feel my connection with my audience. My laugh lines hit, and people are nodding their heads in recognition as my little slice of the human experience connected to theirs. When the crowd applauds loudly, I know it’s over. Outscoring all the others, I have won.
The good folks behind The Moth are true experts in the art of the story. Below are some of their best tips for storytellers, from novice to expert:12
Be forewarned: stories are told, not read.
We love how the storyteller connects with the audience when there is no PAGE between them! Please know your story “by heart” but not by rote memorization. No notes, paper, or cheat sheets allowed on stage.
Have some stakes.
Stakes are essential in live storytelling. What do you stand to gain or lose? Why is what happens in the story important to you? If you can’t answer this, then think of a different story. A story without stakes is an essay and is best experienced on the page, not the stage.
Start in the action.
Have a great first line that sets up the stakes or grabs attention.
No: “So I was thinking about climbing this mountain. But then I watched a little TV and made a snack and took a nap and my mom called and vented about her psoriasis then I did a little laundry (a whites load) (I lost another sock, darn it!) and then I thought about it again and decided I’d climb the mountain the next morning.”
Yes: “The mountain loomed before me. I had my hunting knife, some trail mix, and snow boots. I had to make it to the little cabin and start a fire before sundown or freeze to death for sure.”
Steer clear of meandering endings.
They kill a story! Your last line should be clear in your head before you start. Yes, bring the audience along with you as you contemplate what transpires in your story, but remember, you are driving the story and must know the final destination. Keep your hands on the wheel!
Know your story well enough so you can have fun!
Watching you panic to think of the next memorized line is harrowing for the audience. Make an outline, memorize your bullet points, and play with the details. Enjoy yourself. Imagine you are at a dinner party, not a deposition.
I followed these tips when I told my story and I did something else: I made it funny. In fact, the biggest advantage my story had over the other nine on that windy San Francisco night was this: it was funnier. The Moth won’t tell you that your story has to be funny, but those that incorporate some humor always do very well. I have now won a number of storytelling nights and performed alongside some of the biggest names nationally, and humor always plays as big a part in my stories as it does in my victories. In the next chapter we’ll look more at adding humor to your stories.
Whether you’re a stand-up comedian, budding storyteller, or a substandard Spanish language student involuntarily destroying a Guatemalan home, your story matters, and how you tell it makes all the difference in how it will be received. Combining storytelling, humanity, and laughter will give you a huge advantage in your public speaking, and the odds are good that you already have all the raw material you need. After all, we all have had something funny happen to us at some stage in life—now it’s just a matter of making it funny on an actual stage.
Exercise: Start Your Funny Story File
Think back through your experiences and make a bullet-point list of stories you like that have happened to you or your friends. When you are in the company of your friends and family, what stories do you like to tell? Think fun over funny at this stage. You can also pull material from your favorite books—the odds are in your favor