WE WOULD LIKE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU...

Hello to our readers. Our page continues to receive continued world-wide readership. Thank you for checking in on our Tales and Tips blog from time to time.

We'd like to learn more about you and your interest in storytelling, either as a listener or a teller. Leave us some information on our Comment section at the end of this post.

If you have written a story about your storytelling experiences, we'd love to hear from you and with your permission, post your story on Tales and Tips.

We'll be posting some new stories in the near future.

DH, curator of Tales and Tips for Peterborough Storytellers.

REALLY KNOWING YOUR STORY...BY KEN MURRAY

[Peterborough Storytellers asked writing coach and author Ken Murray to tell us about his experience in encouraging writers to create the first draft of their story. We believe that Ken’s experience closely parallels the process that any oral storyteller goes through when creating and preparing a story idea for telling to others. We welcome your comments to share with our readers. Use the ‘Comments’ section at the end of the posting.]

REALLY KNOWING YOUR STORY

By Ken Murray

Helping somebody write a story might, from the outside looking in, appear magical or even a little like hucksterism — Somebody is going to teach me to write? Yeah right! — but there is a solid grounding from which to work, and it comes down to questions.

Does the writer know the story yet, or is the writer still in the process of discovering the story?

If the writer knows the story, really knows it, then the work is technical. What details should be brought to the reader? When? What order? How?

And if the writer needs to develop technical skills on the page, teach these. It’s a teacher’s job.

But what most often happens is that the writer does not really know the story yet. And in this case they must spend time writing freely, letting grammar, style, and word economy take the back seat. These details can be dealt with later, because right now the writer needs to let the story live and breathe and grow. The writer needs the story to come alive. They need to write it fully.

Once a full, creaky, large draft is in place, it’s the writer’s job to listen to that draft, really listen, and listen not for the story they thought they were writing, not for the story they want to hear, but for the story that is there.

When the writer starts listening to the story that is there, they are getting close to knowing the story, and then we are back to working on the technical aspects I’ve noted above.

If there is an eye-opening moment that happens consistently in my classes, it’s when students grasp that all stories reveal characters. A story comes alive when a character on the page becomes real in the reader’s mind and perceptions. The character becomes someone the reader reacts to emotionally. The reader wants to know more about the character, frets about the character, has hopes for the character, or perhaps becomes angry or frustrated with the character.

If a story draft presents a character and an opportunity to reveal that character, the writer must look more closely at that character, write them, and see what the story is behind them, inside them.

Ken’s latest book, ‘Eulogy, A Novel’ is in bookstores now.

His Facebook page is: www.facebook.com/kenmurray/writer.

Ken’s website, www.kenmurray.ca, has information about his popular writing classes, a blog of his observations about the art of writing, life situations occurring around him and much more helpful information.

Ken lives in Prince Edward County, Ontario

Photo: Ken Murray

LEARNING TO WRITE STORIES FOR MASK

By Rita Grimaldi

One of my goals for taking a week-long writing course at the Haliburton School of the Arts was to write stories for my masks to tell. The course instructor was Ken Murray. Ken gave us instruction on how to write, edit, form paragraphs and most important, how to ‘resonate’ with the reader or in my role as an oral storyteller, how it will resonate with the listener.

Writing For Mask

It was not until the morning of Day Three that I had the courage to attempt to write stories for my masks. To help me write, I had brought photos of myself in mask and of the masks themselves. I started with a photo of Small Bear mask. This mask has only been used once, by a dancer in the performance of Skeleton Woman. I have never told a story in it. 

I began by setting up the photo of Small Bear in front of me.

As I looked at it I thought of all the traditional stories I knew about bears. I knew many transformation stories about males who had been transformed into bears.  So I began one of these. The writing went nowhere. I stopped writing the story and began to write lists of all the ways transformation happens, and all the variations of getting the male back to his male form. But still no story emerged.

Ken’s Perspective On Writing For Mask

         

On Day Four, Ken met personally with each of us to give feedback and to answer questions. When my turn came, I brought my photos of masks and showed them to him.

I said, “Ken how would I write stories for these masks to tell?”

Ken looked at the first picture - the one of Black Bear mask in the forest.

 You can read the story of this mask in my article ‘The Connectedness Of All Things’

(March 24, 2014) in the ‘Tales and Tips’ story blog of Peterborough Storytellers (www.peterboroughstorytellers.blogspot.com).

He said, “Look. Its eyes are looking at something. What is it?”

         

He was telling me to start with the face of the mask.  He was telling me to let the mask tell me what the story is. Of course! This is how I always pair story and mask - intuitively reading stories until I find a story the mask face tells me it can tell.

But now I had to begin not by reading but by pulling the story directly out of the mask face. So I went back to the classroom and once again set the photo of Small Bear mask in front of me and I wrote this story. It is the second draft and it has been rewritten in the first person for telling and performance in mask.

Small Bear Mask’s Story Spoken In Its Voice

I am looking hard. Something is moving. What is it? I am frightened. I feel my heart pounding.  What is coming?  I wish it were my mother coming. I lost her when the ice we were walking on cracked apart. Then the wind stops. And the snow stops swirling and I see that there is nothing coming. I am safe.

         

I curl up against a snow ridge to try and keep warm. I think about my mother. How warm she was to curl up beside. It is so dark. So dark. The sun has gone now. I hear the ice creak. Then I get up. I begin to run over the packed snow. I am hungry. I run hard. Look! I see a dark patch in the snow. Yes! Yes! It is a circle, a fishing hole left by an Inuit hunter. Now I can hunt for fish. Now my belly will be filled.

I stop by the hole. My sharp eyes look into the hole.

My sharp ears listen for movement in the water below.

Sound.

Then the blur of movement

The slap of my paw

The feel of cold fish

Taste in my mouth

Warmth in my belly

Feeling better

Sleep now in the dark day/night.

 My Thoughts On Small Bear Mask’s Story

This story is a very immediate narrative. I regard it as the first step in writing story for mask. It is based on experience rather than events. I think Ken’s instruction to me was designed to get me into the experience of the mask as a being. This is a good starting point for writing. As I go on, the story content will evolve out of the experience content.

An Interesting Post-Script To The Small Bear Mask Story...

Rita writes: On Sunday November 8, I again told the above story in Small Bear Mask.

The next day, I looked at the photos from the performance.

Seeing the photos I remembered Small Bear’s feelings when telling his story.

I remembered Small Bear’s fear. I remembered his inner drive for survival even when he was so alone and so frightened.

Early this morning and for several early mornings previously, I reflected on my Small Bear mask telling experience. I came to realize that Small Bear’s drive to find what is necessary for his survival is, in truth, a deep part of my own life.

Like Small Bear, I too lost my mother at a young age. The survival drive within me is similar to that possessed by Small Bear. Mine has led me to search for ‘food’ and find it. This search is not only just a part of ‘story land’. It is part of this world as well.

Small Bear’s words about catching fish are my words too. I was so careful to learn and say each one exactly as I had written them because they brought into my body the truth of my own life.

Such is the power of the mask for me and my life.

Addendum:

1.   Ken Murray is an excellent writing teacher. To get more information about Ken go to kenmurray.ca

2.   To get more information on the Haliburton School of the Arts go to flemingcollege.ca/school/haliburton-school-of-the-arts

Rita Grimaldi is an active member of the Peterborough Storytellers

in Peterborough, Ontario, Canada.

To contact Rita, email her at peterboroughstorytellers@cogeco.ca.

ANNIE AND THE WOLF MASK

By Rita Grimaldi

BEING WOLF, TRANSFORMATION AND THE WOLF MASK

The experience of telling two stories in my Wolf mask is still full of emotion even after almost two weeks. This is because of the stories I told. The second story, Medicine Wolf, especially was full of raw emotion and need. Some part of me wanted to clear the Wolf mask of the emotions of these stories. So I decided to write a fictional piece in order to have another kind of experience with the mask.

Working in fiction allowed a full transformation and allowed me to write in a mentor for the mask being.

So taking my fictional personna - Annie - I went into story land wearing the Wolf mask. Here is the story of being Wolf in story land.

 ANNIE AND THE WOLF MASK

Annie put on Rita’s Wolf mask and went into story land. She turned into a wolf as soon as she crossed the border. A fine white wolf she was, walking over the rocky ground. The ocean came into sight, big waves rolling into the shore.

Annie/wolf walked along the shore. By and by she came to a little house. An old woman sat outside spinning wool on a drop spindle.

Annie/wolf approached her. “Good day grandmother,” she said, “Can I have some food?”

The old woman looked at her but she did not answer. Then Annie realized that what she had said sounded like barking. So she took human form and asked again.

“Please grandmother can I have something to eat?”

“Come inside,” said the old woman.

So Annie walked into the house. Inside Annie saw a magic thing. All the windows looked out on a different view. Annie saw the ocean out one window, a city out another window, farm land out a third and a forest out a fourth window.

“How can there be so many places outside your house?” asked Annie.

“Well,” said the old woman, “That is because this house is at the centre of the worlds.”

Annie sat down at a small table on a small chair. She had a tiny cup of tea and a tiny biscuit. When she had finished she said, “I had best be going now. Thank you for the tea and biscuit.” Then Annie went out the door. She became a wolf again.

Outside was as it had been, the ocean tumbling by. Annie/wolf walked along the shore to where she had come into story land. Then she walked into the real world.

Now she was human again – wearing the world mask. She walked into Rita’s studio. There she took off Rita’s Wolf mask and hung it on the wall.

After that she sat on the small couch and thought about the house at the centre of the world.

She wondered what would have happened if she had climbed out one of the windows instead of going out of the door.

THE EXPERIENCE OF CHANGING A MASK

By Rita Grimaldi

With every experience of storytelling in mask the partnership between the mask and the user deepens and changes. Often, there is also a change in the mask itself as it evolves as a piece of visual art.

The Small White Bear Mask

Several years ago I made a Small White Bear mask for a group storytelling of ‘Skeleton Woman’. I have never worn this mask. A female dancer wore it along with another male dancer in another bear mask. They danced the story while I told the story.

Last week I needed some white fur to add to the White Wolf mask. So I decided to remove some of the fur from the Small White Bear and use it on the Wolf mask. I was surprised to see how this changed the small bear. I began to see other stories that it could tell.

I took the glue gun and began to add bark, feathers, two maple seeds and one small orange flower to little bear’s face. All the time I was thinking about how fine a mask it would be for storytelling to children. I don’t know why I was thinking this way. But the mask, as I created its new image, seemed to suit this kind of storytelling.

(Picture of Small White Bear mask)

 The White Wolf Mask

At the same time, I was working on the White Wolf mask. Painting out its original yellow colour. Adding the same natural elements that I added to Small White Bear mask: bark, feathers, fur, seeds and leaves but no flower. In some way, both masks grew into being different faces capable of different stories.

(Picture of White Wolf mask)

The Human Face 

The human face is not different than the mask face. It changes according to the story it tells.

Last night in a dream, a man said to me, “Why do you look so down Rita?”  My face was telling him a story of sadness. The human face is capable of telling many stories – a happy story, a sad story, any story. It tells these stories automatically - without thought. But, just as I as a human can change my face, as the mask maker I can also change the faces of my masks.

Both mask face and human face evolve. One by art and the other by experience and will. How magical that is. Small White Bear mask and White Wolf mask go forward into the experience of their new faces and stories with strength and happy anticipation.

Post Script: Don’s Question 

After reading the above article, Don asked “As you and the mask interact, does the mask speak to you in some way, telling you what it wants and needs to develop its persona?

Here is my answer.

Yes, somehow as an artist I interpret a feeling that comes visually from the mask. This feeling tells me if my goal of the mask having an identity as a real person has been arrived at. Here is what I wrote in my journal after the first day of working on changing the Wolf Mask.

“Today I painted out most of Wolf’s original yellow colour but still it is not somebody. Its stone eyes look out but there is no power behind them.”

(Picture of the unfinished Wolf mask)

The next day I went on making changes, the last change being painting pupils in Wolf’s stone eyes. After doing this I could feel energy, power and presence coming from the face that was in line with a wolf’s being.

So I would say that the process is to continue to paint and decorate until the mask tells you visually and with it also a feeling that it has arrived at the energy of a real being.

DO YOU HAVE A QUESTION FOR RITA ABOUT MASK MAKING AND PERFORMANCE?

She'd love to hear from you and answer your question. 

Contact her at peterboroughstorytellers@cogeco.ca

WORLD STORYTELLING DAY 2015 IN PETERBOROUGH, CANADA

On March 18th, five tellers from Peterborough Storytellers and four slam poets from the Peterborough Poetry Collective came together to perform in concert for fans of the spoken word and tales well told.

Our theme for the evening was 'If Wishes Were Enough...' and all fourteen pieces performed that evening explored and flirted with the theme's many faces.

Here's a collage of the performers.

Clockwise from top left: Rita G in mask, Hermione R, Don H, Jon H, Betty B, Carolyn M, Sasha P, Cliff M. Centre: Wes R.

THE FIERCE ROSE MASK TELLS HER FIRST STORY

Editor's Note: The Fierce Rose story was performed in mask by Rita Grimaldi of Peterborough Storytellers during a World Storytelling Day 2015 concert held in Peterborough, Ontario on March 18, 2015. 

The article posted here is Rita's account of adapting the original tale, creating the mask and giving the performance. Storytelling in mask is a unique skill set and the Tales and Tips blog is pleased to host several articles written by Rita about the performance use of mask in oral narrative.

 By Rita Grimaldi

Telling stories in mask always requires rewriting the story from the mask character’s perspective.

 Rita’s ‘Fierce Rose’ mask

The Fierce Rose mask says,

“I wish I could have a human child form in one of my rose buds.”

She says,

“How happy I was to see my human son.”

She says,

“The forest magic did not abandon me for I could see in my rose heart all that was happening to my human son. I saw the human queen rocking him in her rose arbor.”

All these things I wrote into the story for my Rose Mask to say.

The original story had been about her son, the Rose Prince, but the rewriting of it turned it into her story.

I asked myself…

Who is the being represented by this mask?

What does she want?

How does she want to dress?

How does she love and function and desire and fill her needs?

I wanted the audience to know her as someone.

Even though she was a plant being, a rose bush, I wanted the audience to believe she could talk to them and that she could feel a mother’s love and a mother’s desire for her human son.

After the performance, a woman from the audience said to me “You expressed how I feel for my son. How I want him to go out into the word but to go out and do good things. Your costume emphasized your breasts just like a nursing mother’s breasts might be emphasized.”

I was pleased with these comments.

It was a great challenge for me as a mask storyteller to transform myself into a plant spirit capable of human-like emotions. These comments said to me that the Fierce Rose mask had told her story as a real being with real feelings.

Here is the poem she wrote two days before the performance.

Read her feelings and know her.

Being Fierce Rose

My Red Dress embeds itself before and after me

My dress remembers my life in the forest

It remembers my roots in the soil

As for me/Fierce Rose mask, I remember Rita’s face that I was formed on

And I remember the small bird feathers at the corners of my eyes

And I know my lower lip is full of thorns

They are sharp against the memory of losing my son the Rose Prince,

He who was embedded in my roots

And rose up to grow in one of my buds

To be born to see the sunshine on the tall forest trees.

SOME STORIES ARE BETTER WHEN IN A PICTURE...

JOHNNY MACRAE'S POETRY WORKSHOP

By Betty Bennett

On January 22, Rita Grimaldi and I joined a workshop at The Spill, sponsored by the Peterborough Youth Poetry Experience, featuring Johnny MacRae, a spoken word artist from BC. 

Johnny does a lot of work in BC high schools. His energy and manner invite a warm rapport with young or older workshop participants, and bridge the gap between what may be perceived as “old, boring” poetry and hip, youthful spoken word.

 

Johnny opened his workshop with a discussion about how he uses objects as a device to describe feelings that might otherwise be difficult to express or to hear.  The vase, the coat, the old boots become the narrator, creating a slightly easier distance between the poet/ the listener and the emotion.

He then led us through a set of exercises or play to loosen us up physically, release inhibitions or stress and make us more conscious observers of the other workshop participants. The warm-up was vocalizing a non-verbal sound accompanied by a physical gesture, small or exaggerated, and passing it around the circle.  

We moved on to “zooming”.  Making eye contact and “zooming” an imaginary ball across a circle to someone you don’t know. When another group is holding a meeting nearby in the same space, it certainly deals with any shyness you might feel about looking silly. 

The final part of the workshop was a partnered exercise in which we each described an object precious or special to us after gazing steadily into our partners eyes for a full minute.  Not easy to do, whether with someone you know or a stranger.  The eyes, it is said, are the windows of the soul, and this alone is a challenging piece of performance art.  

After we described our object, our partner took ten minutes to write their impressions of our object from our description of it.  

At the end of the exercise, we had the option of sharing our written piece with the group.  The impressions ranged from brief, evocative meditations to fully realized poems. 

It was an engaging workshop, led by a supportive, encouraging and generous artist.  Using an object as narrator is an idea that, I think, would lend itself not only to poetry, but to developing a different point of view for traditional or personal storytelling.

WRITING STORY AND POETRY

BY RITA GRIMALDI

The first poetry workshop teacher I encountered was Johnny MacRae.

He said that his kind of poetry was based on communicating emotion; that this emotion entered the audience so that the poem lodged in their own needs and in their own experiences.

After the workshop I wrote a poem that was all feeling.

The second poetry workshop teacher I encountered just gave what the poets call a word prompt. Her word was 'basement'.

Then my storyteller side came out.

She said, “Remember the time that there was a rat in the basement.”

I began to write the story of the rat in the basement.

Some how the story had music skating around its edges. This music made it poetry.

The words of Johnny MacRae were still with me.

The words that said that emotion was the driving energy of poetry.

So my heart began to beat for rat

I felt for rat

I had sympathy for rat

My hands wrote rat’s epilogue.

Here is Rat’s Poem.

The Basement                                                                                            

I am a small girl

I go down into our basement kitchen

A rat appears

Everyone is screaming

I have come down to have my mother check my reading

Everything stops.

The men, my father and his brothers get brooms

They begin to chase the rat

To hit the rat

To smash the rat

To clobber the rat

To defeat the rat

To massacre the rat

Finally it is dead

My father picks it up by the tail

Holding it by the tail, he carries it into the furnace room

The door to the coal-burning furnace has a small circle for a window

I see the flame

My father opens the door

A great rectangle of flames appears

The rat is thrown in

The rat disappears into the flames

The iron door closes.

What did the rat want?

Did it want food?

Did it want love?

Did it want attention?

Why did it risk running out in front of humans?

What was its intention?

As a child I observed what happened

I felt nothing

But now I feel for the rat

How difficult an end to be consumed in the rage of men

And burned to a crisp in a fire.

Postscript

What if storytellers were to speak their stories in poetry?

Then, oh then, they would have a whole other audience for their craft.