My journey from listener to teller

I finally broke down, admitted I need help, and attended my first SA meeting.

 Here is how I introduced myself…“Hello, my name is Karen, and I need help telling my story.”

“Hello Karen, we are here for you”, said my new friends at my first Storytellers Anonymous meeting.

Here is what I told them…   I am the 2^nd to youngest child of 8 children. 5 boys and 3 girls. When I was about 8 I remember consciously admitting to myself, as our family drove down to Virginia in an overfilled station wagon with no seat belts to my grandparent’s farm, that I LOVE my role as the listener in the family. I loved everything about being the captive audience to anyone who had a tale to tell. I loved reacting in surprise, the gut-wrenching stomach knots from laughing too hard, and the introspective contemplation as I learned from others. A good story, or any story for that matter, was comfort food to me…an imaginary warm blanket wrapped around me by loving hands. 

Castiglioni family year 2000

Kevin & me 

My husband Kevin is my older brother’s best friend. So when I was 7 he was 17, (no we did not start dating back then!)he visited our family during a summer vacation at the Jersey Shore. There was about 4 of us in the beach house one time when we heard the ice cream man jingle his truck’s bell signaling he was coming down the street. As we stood outside in line, something triggered Kevin’s memory, and he started telling us another one of his hilarious stories, at the expense of a family member or close friend that he found funny. By the time it was our turn to order, we were all in hysterics and I could only point to what I wanted...I was laughing so hard! Kevin, to this day, has a way of exaggerating the facts just enough to keep the story believable, but embellishes it enough to add flavor!

Benefits of listening…At that point in my life I reaped the benefit of other’s telling stories. I had no intent to reverse my role as the loyal listener.

In middle school we had a weekly 1 page story to write for our English class. I stand before you admitting I never wrote one of those stories. I admit I agonized over spilling the beans to my teacher every time she gave me an A+ with…”well done”…”so creative”…”great imagination Karen”…written at the top in bright red ink. Here is how those stories really were created; One night I shared my first assignment with my mom as I did my homework at the kitchen table. My older brother Paul (2 years older) also was there. My mom started giving me suggestions, helping me along with a story line, when Paul jumped in with more twists to the plot. Before we all knew it, they had completely dictated the whole story to me! As weeks passed, Paul and my mom somehow ended up in the kitchen with me, contemplating one scene after another, with one more adventurous tale, one more intriguing plot, and one more A+ for me.

REALIZATIONS…I began to realize the scope of my predicament. I had no storytelling skills. It was like I was at the bottom of a well with no way out, and I put myself there. How do I learn how to tell a story? What IS my story voice supposed to be like? How do I become a master storyteller?

Papa, Maureen, and one determined professor!  

My dad

My dad would stay with us 2 nights per week when Maureen and Ryan (my children) were in elementary school.  He was semi-retired living in PA, but still working in NJ 3 days a week so he slept over. Papa, as the kids affectionately called him, is a master storyteller. He would be the animal trainer to Maureen and Ryan who transformed into wild animals along with all their stuffed animals. He would create this magical world, and they would hang on his every command. Somehow he would weave in a physical competition that wore my children out! Other nights I would come home from, my then part time job, working at the public library to find Maureen wearing a blond wig, acting out some story as my father videotaped. These are all priceless memories for my family, and I recently asked my kids what makes Papa’s stories so great. The shared great insights for me which I am grateful I have such an excellent example to emulate.

Maureen in wig!

ü  His stories had meaning

ü  They were just the right length – not too many details

ü  Character development – characters had feelings

ü  He is enthusiastic and willing to share

ü  The stories answered questions

ü  The stories were unpredictable, suspenseful and made us think

When Maureen was a growing up, she would sequester me into her bedroom, and would ask me to tell her a made up story. At the same time the question escaped her mouth, panic flowed through my veins, and my mouth was suddenly dry. It felt like that amusement park ride that spins humans in a huge cylinder and the centrifugal force holds us all plastered to the sides as the bottom falls out. I managed to tell barely one minute stories, with no enthusiasm, and little plot. Maureen, to say the least, was not impressed. I felt like I was Winnie the Pooh sitting on a log out in the woods saying to himself….think, think, think.. It was as if my memories all left me; as if they all hid in the dark shadows of my brain I could not detect.

Eye Opener…This was a real eye opener. It made me truly understand my lack of storytelling skills. I needed to reach up into those dark crevices of my brain to pull out all those hidden memories and learn how to use them to tell a story. I needed to pull them back into place in my mind.

The past 2 years I have worked on my Masters in Library and Information Services. I have had one professor who challenged my English writing skills. He gently confronted me and pointed out my flaws, at the same time guiding me to see the rationale and reasons I NEED to learn how to story tell in my line of work. He was so passionate in providing me with purpose. I knew I needed to seek help and improve myself. I was probably the oldest student going in to the free tutoring for English help on campus, but who cares. In my line of work I need to learn storytelling and the structure of building a story. I need storytelling to communicate with my library patrons, write grant proposals, and collaborate with the town to raise awareness of the libraries community function as an information center. My professor gave me the vision and a goal.

Where I am going…I am still a work in progress, as is my story.  I have discovered, though, to look at others as examples of story structure, form and style to find my own style. The blinders are off. I am out of the well now.

DISCLAIMER: Storytellers Anonymous is a fictitious support group – I think J