OPINION

Mullis: Learning to be a storytelling GPS

Nicole L.V. Mullis
For the Enquirer

I like to think of myself as a storyteller.

Nicole L.V. Mullis

When I read about the Enquirer’s upcoming Mosaic Storytellers Showcase, I was intrigued. In fact, I wanted in.

Telling a story to an audience shouldn’t be that big of a stretch for me. I’ve written lots of stories in lots of formats, including a novel, some short fiction, several plays, and countless essays. I have public speaking experience and have read my work on the radio.

Plus, I’ve read to my kids every night from their infancy through their grade school years. Their childhood favorites are still stuck in my memory, verbatim. I can recite Dr. Seuss’ “Green Eggs and Ham” here or there. I can recite that book anywhere.

Storytelling for grownups sounded like fun.

I made some inquiries, and ended up speaking with the project’s organizer, Michelle Frank. She told me they had an open spot for the inaugural event on Feb. 2.

Would I like to have it?

I would.

The theme was “home.” Proceeds from the ticket sales would go to SAFE Place and the Haven of Rest.

A worthy subject and two worthy causes.

Frank invited me to a pre-event workshop led by professional storyteller Dick Strader. Strader opened the workshop by explaining what storytelling is not.

It is NOT reading a story aloud.

Oh?

It is NOT acting out a play.

Oh, no…

It is NOT reciting poetry.

…and there goes “Green Eggs and Ham.”

He explained storytelling is a cooperative art between the teller and the listener. There is no script, just eye contact. The story starts in the same place and arrives at the same destination, but can reroute depending on who’s listening.

I’m not a storytelling GPS. There is only one route. Finding that route involves rough drafts and editing and lots and lots of time with a thesaurus. Once the story is published, the route doesn’t change.

What did I get myself into?

Strader asked us to find someone we didn’t know to be our storytelling partner. We had to tell our partner about our childhood home, specifically what we could see out the front window. We had five minutes.

Using birthdays, we determined who would go first. My partner’s birthday was four days after mine.

I was first.

My partner made eye contact.

She smiled.

I blanked.

Window, window, window...

I told her about the elm tree. My father covered the roots with wood chips, which my sister and I would throw at each other when we were bored. I told her about the three tulips that bloomed there every spring. I didn’t know how bulbs worked, so I thought the flowers were magic.

She laughed.

She told me about her childhood home in the country, which led to a story about a new septic tank. Before the tank arrived, her father hid in the hole, waiting to scare the daylights out of her sibling. It worked.

I laughed.

Time was up.

Strader explained this is basic storytelling – bringing a stranger into a place you know by heart. The art comes in being as familiar with a story as your childhood home.

I was right. This is intriguing.

And I was wrong. This is going to be a stretch for me.

A big stretch, but it’s one this storyteller wants to make.

Wish me luck.

Nicole L.V. Mullis is the author of the novel A Teacher Named Faith. She will be participating in the Enquirer's Mosaic Storytelling Showcase on Feb. 2  For details visit www.NicoleLVMullis.com.