I know, I know. It’s been a couple weeks, plus why the heck am I writing you on a Tuesday instead of a Friday?

Well, as you may recall, my beloved Rebecca and I spent the last week of January moving from Florida to Michigan. Boxes were packed. A semi trailer was loaded. Possessions were purged or donated. Farewell dinners were laughed and cried through—and it’s not goodbye, it’s see ya down the road!

All went smoothly, even with an unplanned stop at a gas station somewhere in Ohio to clean the windshield as we relearned how defrosters work during an active snowfall!

We and the pups arrived safely, as did the semi, and we spent last week enjoying our new fireplace and unpacking and setting up our new house and doing our first exploratory walks to the nearby park and (frozen!) lake.

So I’ve not had the time or bandwidth to send out my weekly newsletter or jumpstart my dormant podcasts. Normalcy will return once I have my new office set up!

But normalcy is another week or so away, as this week I am back at it with tour life: a Wednesday performance of 11 DAYS at VMI (Virginia Military Institute) and a Sunday performance of LAST OUT in Columbus, Ohio. If you’re in either neighborhood, come check out a show!

In the meantime, my friend and brother-in-art, Scott Mann, hosts a kick-ass podcast… and I was a recent guest! The various links are below for you to listen and/or watch. We geek out hard about the power of storytelling and the challenge/gift of tolerating yourself.

Also, so many of you reached out and wished Rebecca, Gaia, Odin, and me well with our seismic transition. All gratitude! I look forward to getting back into the story-and-truth-telling groove with y’all soon.

Here’s the YouTube version of my podcast appearance with Scott…

Or you can listen on APPLE PODCASTS or over on SPOTIFY.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great week—

Jason “Fireplace Enthusiast” Cannon

Last week I told you about the opening performances of 11 DAYS: THE STORY OF OPERATION PINEAPPLE EXPRESS.

This week I’m in New York. We are doing a special limited Off-Off-Broadway run of the show at The Wild Project.

There’s something glorious about walking around the city in 30-something degree weather!

If you’re in the East Village next tonight or tomorrow afternoon, come say hi and check out the show!

Tickets for 11 DAYS Off-Broadway!

If you can’t make the show, you can read the script.

11 DAYS script

Every time Scott performs the play, he gives it away.

This is true for any storyteller telling their story in any form. You must give it away. You must release your ego.

Your painting hangs above someone else’s sofa. Or above their toilet, if they so choose.

Your book is tucked into other people’s backpacks and you cannot control when or where they read it. She may read it all in one go in a cozy coffee shop. He may read it chapter by chapter across many weeks. He may use a bookmark. She may dog-ear the page.

Your music gets played by high school students with squeaky reeds and by virtuosos in concert halls. If your concerto or pop ballad gets recorded, I may listen to it in the car on full blast. Or on my headphones while I write. Or through a bluetooth speaker in the background while enjoying a meal with my beloved Rebecca.

You must give your story away.

And you cannot judge what the audience thinks or feels about it. You can only offer, with no precondition. Because you have no say in how the audience relates to your story.

If you try to control their reaction, they’ll reject you. As they should.

Last night Scott told his story to an audience made up of civilians and vets, Marines and business owners, fathers and mothers, strangers and friends.

An audience is a collective. But it is made up of individuals. And each of them gets to decide what they’re going to do with your story.

During the talkback, we got such a wonderful array of questions and comments, each shaped by the asker’s specific experience and point of view.

Across such a spectrum, how could Scott possibly dictate their singular experiences?

That is not your job.

Your job—your work—is simply to tell.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “East Villager” Cannon

Back on December 17, we did our first performance of the world premiere one-man show 11 DAYS: THE STORY OF OPERATION PINEAPPLE EXPRESS.

I’ve been telling you about this play for awhile.

My dear friend Scott Mann, retired Green Beret, plays 24 characters onstage (and another ten or so pre-recorded!) and tells the true story of rescuing Afghan allies during the fall of Kabul back in 2021.

He had originally told this story in a book, OPERATION PINEAPPLE EXPRESS, which, y’know, just happened to become a NY Times Bestseller.

11 DAYS is the theatrical adaptation of that story. I was his storycoach, associate producer, and director. We jammed together in his story lab for many months, and it’s a project I am wildly proud of.

Next week we are taking the show Off-Broadway for a limited run at The Wild Project.

If you’re in the East Village next week (Jan 22-25), come say hi and check out the show!

Tickets for 11 DAYS Off-Broadway!

If you can’t make the show, you can read the script.

11 DAYS script

But here’s the story I want to tell you today.

On Friday, December 19, Scott faced one of the most difficult audiences imaginable.

Seven of the characters in the play were in the audience.

Remember, this is a true story. The first chunk of the play is about how Scott got his Afghan Special Forces friend, Nezam, safely into HKIA (Hamid Karzai International Airport) so that he wouldn’t be executed by the Taliban for helping American forces.

Nezam was in the audience, along with six more of the real, actual people that Scott and I had turned into characters in a play.

Real Congressional aides. Actual Special Envoys—all the way from Finland! Other soldiers and vets who had been a part of this makeshift, improvised mission that saved so many lives.

Imagine being on stage… performing versions of people… who are in the audience… watching you perform them.

I’ll be honest… I was a bit starstruck when I met these people. I saw one of the Captains in the lobby and recognized him from photos and promptly fan-boyed all over him. This soft-spoken man who I had come to “know” in writing and re-writing and rehearsal… he gave me the ol’ nod’n’smile.

Smooth, Jason. Real smooth.

If my reaction was to fan-boy, just imagine how much more intense it was gonna be for Scott!

“Scott, be ready,” I told him backstage pre-show. “You’re gonna have feelings that you haven’t experienced before. Don’t let ‘em throw you off. Just tell the story.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I got it.”

Post-show: “Jason, I feel like I got hit by a train!!”

Yeah. Of course. For a year, we’d been sweaty and anxious, fighting like hell to honor these people, but fearful they would see our version of them and their stories and be horrified, or embarrassed, or baffled.

Thankfully, after the show, they all gave us their blessing. They told us to keep going, to keep telling the story. Sure, it was weird seeing themselves refracted through Scott on the stage, but our work had paid off. They were honored, and humbled, and grateful.

Then, on Saturday, December 20, Scott faced an even more difficult audience.

On August 26, 2021—eleven days after the Taliban overran Kabul—an ISIS-K suicide bomber detonated himself outside HKIA at Abbey Gate. The blast killed thirteen US servicemen and women, and some 200 Afghans who were trying to get to safety inside the airport.

One of those servicemen was Ryan C. Knauss.

At our December 20 performance, Ryan’s mother was in the audience.

In the photo above, you see a big, green, digital timer that reads “11:00:00:00.” Through the course of the show, that timer ticks down. And down. And down. Days, hours, minutes, seconds.

As the timer began its inevitable descent, Ryan’s mother began to sob. Loudly. In excruciating, heaving gasps. She was as loud as Scott, even though he was mic’d.

I was in the back row, watching the audience watch the show. I saw Scott quiver. He had heard those sobs, and I knew he knew exactly who they were coming from.

It was like I could see a cartoon thought-bubble over Scott’s head: Oh my god. When that timer hits zero, and I say my next line to trigger the explosion, I am going to kill that woman’s son right in front of her all over again.

The show continued. The timer ticked down. Ryan’s mother keened. Scott trembled and soldiered on.

The timer hit zero with a buzz. Scott turned to look at the projection screen…

00:00:00:00

His next line is: “You all knew this was going to happen.”

But he doesn’t say it. He can’t. Ryan’s mother is openly weeping. Scott turns away from us. His shoulders are shuddering.

I think: I don’t know if he’s going to be able to continue.

But Scott is a storyteller of the highest order. His integrity is unimpeachable. His generosity is tested and true. He knows—and I know he knows—that to stop now would dishonor Ryan. Even though this mother is in agony, the only way to help her… is to go on.

Scott turns back to us. He grits his teeth and spits out, “You all knew this was going to happen.”

The stage manager takes the cue. The lights flash blinding white. The speakers rumble with the heartwrenching sound of an explosion.

Ryan’s mother goes silent.

Scott finishes the show. He’s pale. I can’t imagine what this is costing him.

The play is over. Scott comes back onstage for the talkback. At the end of the talkback, he invites Ryan’s mother up on stage.

She looks at the audience. Her gaze is a laserbeam.

And she tells us her story.

She found out about Ryan while she was on her honeymoon.

He was the final of the thirteen to succumb to his injuries.

She has started her own foundation to support other Gold Star families.

She thanks Scott. She apologizes for being so loud and says, “It’s just… when I saw that timer, all I could think was… My boy only has five minutes left, and he doesn’t know it.”

She turns to her husband, who holds out a large purse. She reaches in and pulls out an oversized challenge coin.

She smacks that coin into Scott’s hand, then presses her own hand over his.

“Don’t you dare stop telling my son’s story.”

She’s making him take an oath.

Scott is speechless. He nods. The talkback ends.

I make my way down to the stage and approach Ryan’s mother.

“Thank you so much for coming,” I say.

“Who are you?” Her voice like a thump on my sternum. No time for nonsense. No patience for fools.

“Um, I’m Jason, I directed the show.”

Her eyes narrow. Feeling the heat of that laserbeam gaze from the back of the theater was one thing. Having it full throttle on me from two feet away is quite another. Her head flicks in Scott’s direction.

“You help him?”

“Yes, ma’am. For the last year I coached him on the script and then worked with him through rehearsals—”

“You support him?”

I gulp.

“Yes, ma’am, for several years now, we’ve been working together and it’s been one of the honors of my career to work with him.”

“You’ll continue to support him?”

She’s a drill sergeant. She’s a relentless attorney grilling the witness during the climax of a legal thriller.

She’s a mother exuding singular purpose.

She turns to her husband. He already has the purse presented. She reaches in, pulls out another challenge coin, slaps the metal disk into my hand, presses it against my palm.

“Don’t you dare stop supporting him.”

She’s making me take an oath.

I can’t speak, but she sees it in my eyes.

“Good.”

And she’s past me. The husband gives me a nod and follows her.

I look down at the coin filling my hand. “The Respect and Remember Foundation.”

I flip the coin over. My breath catches. It’s a picture of Ryan.

It matters what stories you listen to.

It matters what stories you tell.

Choose wisely.

Listen closely.

Tell generously.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Respect and Remember” Cannon

My last newsletter was way back on December 19 of 2025.

I do apologize for the lengthy absence. I could blame the holidays, I suppose, but mostly my beloved Rebecca and I have been super busy preparing for a big change.

On February 2, we will load up the pups and start driving north. We’ll overnight at a hotel, probably somewhere in Tennessee.

On February 3, we will arrive at our new home in West Bloomfield, Michigan.

On February 4, we will wake up as full-blown Michiganders—although Rebecca grew up there, so she’ll simply reclaim her title while I strive to convert my Midwestern childhood and early adulthood (Indiana, Illinois, and St. Louis) into mitten-shaped acceptance. Every time I’ve visited up there with Rebecca, it’s felt more and more like home calling me back, so I’m pretty sure the wolverines won’t eat my face.

And, in a lovely bit o’ calendar-kismet, February 4 will mark exactly nine years since our first date way back in 2017.

We’ve been talking about it for a couple years, for lots of reasons. And last fall, when the most perfect house fell in our laps—it’s nestled between two lakes, surrounded by trees—we finally knew it was time.

I won’t go into all the details here, but if you’re Floridian and we haven’t had a proper farewell, please feel free to email or call.

Page&Stage may still be a bit hiccup-y the next few weeks as we get packed and unpacked and settled. But these newsletters are gonna keep coming, and the podcasts will get spinning up again. And by April I will have my first online workshops available for you, too!

I certainly owe you all a recap on 11 DAYS, and that’ll be coming next week.

So, no big tip or trick this week, just this life update and a heartfelt thank you. So many of you impacted me during my 13 years in Sarasota. It has been such a joy and an honor to be your friend, your colleague, your teacher, your director, or some combo of all those.

All gratitude—

Jason “Time to Mitten Up” Cannon

I’ve worn tracks in I-75 this week, going back and forth from the HCC Performing Arts Building. Tech rehearsals and world premiere performances for 11 DAYS!

You have until Saturday to check out this limited run! Scroll down for info.

This play is all about turning memory and lived experience into potent storytelling.

Here’s the thing about memory… it’s messy. Curated. Spotty. Self-serving. Malleable.

Therein lies both the joy and the trap of memoir-based stories.

I came across another fascinating “memory is messy” story this week.

Burt Bacharach, as a teenager, would use a fake ID to finagle his way into jazz clubs in Manhattan. He recalls seeing Dizzy Gillespie playing his bent trumpet, and how one time he saw Sonny Payne on drums with the Count Basie band at the famous Birdland club.

“They were just so incredibly exciting that all of a sudden, I got into music in a way I never had before. What I heard in those clubs really turned my head around—it was like a big breath of fresh air when somebody throws open a window. That was when I knew for the first time how much I loved music and wanted to be connected to it in some way.”

But check it out…

Burt Bacharach was born in 1928. Birdland opened in 1949. That would make Burt—stand by for math—at least twenty-one, not a teenager.

And when good ol’ Burt was twenty-one, he was stationed in—stand by for geography—Germany. Tough for a fella in the Army on the other side of the Atlantic to hit up a club in Manhattan, yeah?

Oh and Sonny Payne didn’t team up with Count Basie until 1954, by which time Burt was already working as a professional musician.

And Dizzy’s horn? Stand by for bending of spacetime… Got bent in 1953.

So, is our good buddy Bacharach lying? Nope. He’s simply conflating memories. Most assuredly he frequented Manhattan jazz clubs with a fake ID and saw any number of other great players who were around in his teens. But there’s no way—as a teen—that he saw Dizzy, Count Basie, and Sonny Payne until later in his life, career, and musical development.

Burt Bacharach, though—emotionally speaking—is telling the truth. His life was changed by certain experiences. His sense of himself isn’t an equation or a formula. It is shaped by the stories he tells about himself to himself (and to us) and those stories are built out of memories.

Story is not WHAT we remember; it’s HOW we remember at all.

I am not speaking of biography or journalism or history. Those undertakings have different goals and promise different outcomes and must utilize investigation and fact-checking and peer review in different, more vigorous ways.

The vigor of memoir is to exercise insatiable curiosity about yourself. And since our brains are unreliable recorders, we turn to story to make meaning.

Storytelling is also a two-way street. It matters very much not only what stories you tell, but which stories you listen to. The stories you ingest shape your view of the world. The stories you tell reveal everything about your intention toward the world.

Our intention with 11 DAYS?

To testify.

To heal a moral injury.

To honor those who have fallen, and those who work to this day—five years after the fall of Kabul—to get our allies safely out.

To insatiably examine what it means to honor a promise.

What stories do you find yourself telling again and again?

Why those stories?

Are they true?

More importantly… are they honest?

And even more importantly… do they emerge from self-interest, or from insatiable curiosity about yourself?

TICKETS

I’m gonna make it even easier for you to track down info and tickets. Just mash this purple button—

Mash me for 11 DAYS info&tix!

SCRIPT

And heck, if you’re one of those folks who like to read, the script has been published by Ibis Books. Time for another mashable purple button—

Mash me for 11 DAYS script!

BLURB

How about a blurb? Everybody loves a good blurb—

ONE LAST MISSION. 1000 LIVES SAVED. A PROMISE KEPT.

When America withdrew from Afghanistan, the world watched chaos unfold. Active duty and retired special operators watched something else: brothers and sisters in danger.

In April 2021, a plea for help came from Nezam—a legendary Afghan commando trained alongside U.S. Special Forces—now marked for death by the Taliban. His former commander, Lt. Col. Scott Mann, rallied a volunteer team of special operations veterans who refused to leave an ally behind.

What began as a desperate attempt to save one man became a covert, round-the-clock effort to shepherd 1000 Afghans through Taliban checkpoints and into the Kabul airport before the gates slammed shut.

11 DAYS is a gripping one-man stage performance by retired Green Beret Lt. Col. Scott Mann, based on his New York Times bestseller, Operation Pineapple Express. This true story of courage, duty, and the unshakeable bonds forged in war takes audiences inside the harrowing story of the Pineapple Express mission during the fall of Kabul.

The Page&Stage Podcast: PREDICTOR

In case you missed it last week, here’s the most recent episode!

You know what’s really cool? This is another play built out of memories and lived experience. The first reviews are in, and they are GREAT. If you’re in Florida, check out 11 DAYS. If you’re in New York, check out PREDICTOR!

In this episode, I sit down with Jennifer Blackmer and Meg Crane to discuss the fascinating story behind the invention of the home pregnancy test. Meg shares her journey from working as a graphic designer and illustrator to developing a prototype that would empower women with the ability to test for pregnancy at home. Despite initial resistance and skepticism from (all male) executives, Meg’s determination and innovative thinking led to a groundbreaking product that changed the landscape of women’s health. Jennifer, the playwright of PREDICTOR, adds depth to the conversation by exploring how she adapted Meg’s story into a stage production, highlighting the intersection of art and science.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

And if you want to put faces with voices, the video version is available over on YouTube.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Insatiably Curious” Cannon

So I’m daily zipping up and down I-75 from Sarasota to Ybor City. Specifically to the Hillsbourough Community College Performing Arts Building.

Because it’s time to tech and open a world premiere show!

I’ve been working with my Green Beret buddy Scott on this for, geez, almost a year. I was his storycoach as he adapted his book into a play, and now I’m his director. We jammed together in rehearsal for the last three or so months, and yesterday we got into the theater itself.

TICKETS

I’m gonna make it even easier for you to track down info and tickets. Just mash this purple button—

Mash me for 11 DAYS info&tix!

SCRIPT

And heck, if you’re one of those folks who like to read, the script has been published by Ibis Books. Time for another mashable purple button—

Mash me for 11 DAYS script!

BLURB

How about a blurb? Everybody loves a good blurb—

ONE LAST MISSION. 1000 LIVES SAVED. A PROMISE KEPT.

When America withdrew from Afghanistan, the world watched chaos unfold. Active duty and retired special operators watched something else: brothers and sisters in danger.

In April 2021, a plea for help came from Nezam—a legendary Afghan commando trained alongside U.S. Special Forces—now marked for death by the Taliban. His former commander, Lt. Col. Scott Mann, rallied a volunteer team of special operations veterans who refused to leave an ally behind.

What began as a desperate attempt to save one man became a covert, round-the-clock effort to shepherd 1000 Afghans through Taliban checkpoints and into the Kabul airport before the gates slammed shut.

11 DAYS is a gripping one-man stage performance by retired Green Beret Lt. Col. Scott Mann, based on his New York Times bestseller, Operation Pineapple Express. This true story of courage, duty, and the unshakeable bonds forged in war takes audiences inside the harrowing story of the Pineapple Express mission during the fall of Kabul.

24 CHARACTERS

Even though it’s a one-man show, there are 24 characters who physically appear on stage. Scott plays all of ‘em.

Rehearsal has been fuuuuuun.

He also plays another bunch of characters who auditorially appear. The magic of pre-recording!

Playing two dozen characters isn’t as difficult as it sounds. Well, Scott may not agree. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say it’s not as complicated as it sounds.

Ways to transform characters:

• Put on glasses. (Hello, Clark Kent!)

• Take off glasses. (Hello, Superman!)

• Put on a backback.

• Wind a scarf around your neck.

• Put on a bathrobe.

• Slow down your voice.

• Speed up your voice.

• Raise the pitch of your voice.

• Lower the pitch of your voice.

• Shift your weight from right foot to left. From left foot to right.

• Adjust your gaze five degrees.

• Put on a hat.

• Put on a jacket.

• But mostly… adjust your emotional point of view. You can channel change immediately. Turn on the proverbial dime. Character 1 wants X. Character 2 wants Y. Just play both wants for real. The audience will gasp at your transformation and see you as two completely distinct characters, even if you didn’t alter your appearance at all.

You don’t need full costume changes or gigantic accents.

Simplicity + grace + ease = MAGIC.

We love to over-complicate things. We think big questions need equally big answers.

Not true.

For example: in the equation above, the secret to ease is reps. That’s it.

One of the most potent questions you can ask yourself as you are creating your story…

What is the least I need? What is essential?

Start from there. Keep circling back to there.

The essential will remind you to keep it simple. Because twenty-four characters is complicated enough on its own.

Don’t take my word for it. Come see Scott’s performance. Believe me, he has put in the dang reps!

The Page&Stage Podcast: PREDICTOR

In case you missed it Monday, here’s the most recent episode!

In this episode, I sit down with Jennifer Blackmer and Meg Crane to discuss the fascinating story behind the invention of the home pregnancy test. Meg shares her journey from working as a graphic designer and illustrator to developing a prototype that would empower women with the ability to test for pregnancy at home. Despite initial resistance and skepticism from (all male) executives, Meg’s determination and innovative thinking led to a groundbreaking product that changed the landscape of women’s health. Jennifer, the playwright of PREDICTOR, adds depth to the conversation by exploring how she adapted Meg’s story into a stage production, highlighting the intersection of art and science.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

And if you want to put faces with voices, the video version is available over on YouTube.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Essentially” Cannon

In this episode, I sit down with Jennifer Blackmer and Meg Crane to discuss the fascinating story behind the invention of the home pregnancy test. Meg shares her journey from working as a graphic designer and illustrator to developing a prototype that would empower women with the ability to test for pregnancy at home. Despite initial resistance and skepticism from (all male) executives, Meg’s determination and innovative thinking led to a groundbreaking product that changed the landscape of women’s health. Jennifer, the playwright of PREDICTOR, adds depth to the conversation by exploring how she adapted Meg’s story into a stage production, highlighting the intersection of art and science.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

Meg and Jen’s Links

Check out Jen’s website: jenniferblackmer.com

Visit Meg Crane on Facebook.

Get tix to PREDICTOR!

Here’s the original article that inspired the play.

Meg and Jen’s Bios

Jennifer Blackmer’s award-winning plays include Predictor, I Carry Your Heart with Me, Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace, Borrowed Babies, Delicate Particle Logic, Human Terrain, and Unraveled. She was recently honored with the 2024 Harold and Mimi Steinberg Charitable Trust/ATCA Citation, which recognizes the best new plays produced outside of New York, the PEN/Laura Pels International Foundation for Theatre Award for Emerging American Playwright, the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation Tribeca Film Institute prize, the Indiana Authors Award, the Joseph Jefferson Award for Best Adaptation, the David Mark Cohen Playwriting Award, and the Gold Medallion from the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival. Jennifer is a Professor of Theatre at Ball State University, where she teaches classes in playwriting, storytelling, science on stage, feminist theatre and directing.

Meg Crane founded Ponzi & Weill Inc. advertising and design company in 1968 with her late partner, Ira Sturtevant. Prior to that, she was Creative Director at Intec Laboratories (Organon) where she coordinated projects with four advertising agencies assigned to Intec’s new cosmetic’s department. Before joining Intec, she worked at Harpers Bazaar Magazine and at Gene Murray Advertising. Meg is the inventor of the first home pregnancy diagnostic test, 1967, for which she holds two patents: 3,579,306 and DES.215.774. In June, 2015, her prototype for the test was acquired by The Smithsonian Museum along with one of the original marketed products. Now retired, Meg participates in panels and conferences, and consults on upcoming films, stage plays, and book projects about her work on the original home pregnancy test. At this moment in time, she is most concerned about the state of reproductive rights in the United States.

If you enjoy or find value in this podcast, I’d like to ask you a quick favor.

Leaving a short review or comment helps me out a ton. It tells the algorithmic overlords that people are listening, and it helps other folks discover the show.

So if you can post a review—just click the purple button below to open Apple Podcasts and scroll down to Ratings and Reviews—or leave a comment on this episode here on Substack or over on YouTube, wherever you happen to be listening or watching, I would be incredibly grateful.

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If you’re interested in producing your own podcast, creating other audio or video content, or hosting a livestream, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Here’s a link so you can check ‘em out! (Full disclosure, this is an affiliate link, but I wouldn’t put it here if I didn’t believe in and use Riverside.fm myself!)

Check out Riverside.fm

A quick shout out to Ievgen Poltavskyi from Pixabay for the musical underscoring!

On my trip to Pensacola a couple weeks back, one of my colleagues—our tour manager, Kari—kept getting text alerts.

This was pre-Thanksgiving, mind you.

And her alert was the tinkly opening notes of Mariah Carey’s seminal holiday hit, “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

After the fourth or so Mariah-lert in a five minute span, I jokingly let her have it.

“It’s not even Thanksgiving, Kari! What are you doing?? No carols before the turkey is carved!”

She giggled. “Oh, all my decorations are already up.”

I shook my head in despair. Her phone tinkled a text. Mariah for the win.

Now, I have that song on my holiday playlist. It’s a banger. But I never hit play on that list until at least the day after Thanksgiving. And any radio station in my car that shifts to Bing and Burl and Frosty and Rudolph in early November? Embargoed!

But now that December has arrived, yes, I’m allowing that particular strain of music back into my ears.

So let me ask you this: which version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” is your favorite? Who crushes “O Holy Night” the best? Whose “Silver Bells” ring the brightest?

I mean, Nat King Cole’s rendition of “The Christmas Song” is iconic. No one does roasted chestnuts like him. But that doesn’t stop every musical artist out there from trying. Holiday albums are one of the safest financial bets out there.

Here’s the thing: so many of my oral storytelling clients and students worry about how they sound. About getting it “right.”

Am I pausing enough? Talking too fast? Talking to slow?

Is my voice too high? Too nasally? Too low?

How’s my elocution? Do I have some annoying vocal tic—um or er or y’know—that I’m not even aware of?

I’ve memorized my story/speech/talk. Am I allowed to deviate? Do I sound too stuck in one way?

Part of my strategy to get them past these internal, self-judgmental blocks is to have them explore music.

Exploration 1: don’t be afraid of pauses.

Rare is the storyteller who goes too slow. Far more common is the storyteller or speaker who zooms through their words, racing to get off stage as quickly as possible, terrified of boring the listeners.

So, go listen to jazz and classical.

Miles Davis: It’s not the notes you play; it’s the notes you don’t play.

Claude Debussey: Music is the space between the notes.

Listen close and identify all the delicious silence.

If you’ve got your script in front of you, take advantage of your page turns. The audience needs those breaths and beats and pauses as much as you do.

Frankly, nothing is more compelling—more capable of getting an audience to lean forward—than full… resonant… potential-about-to-go-kinetic… silence.

Exploration 2: cover versions.

Pick a favorite composition or song. Maybe even your favorite holiday tune, which has been covered by umpteen recording artists. Use YouTube or Spotify or Apple Music to listen to as many versions of that one song as possible. Compare them. Contrast them. Luxuriate in the variety of interpretations.

Like Whitney Houston adjusting “Star Spangled Banner” from 3/4 time to 4/4 time, giving her amazing vocals more space to explore.

Like Tony Bennet slowing down “Fly Me to the Moon”—transforming it into a ballad—while Frank Sinatra swings it like Babe Ruth’s bat.

Like “Silent Night”—which to date has been recorded a cool 137,000 times!! OK, so maybe just compare a dozen or so “Silent Nights.” Solo, ensemble, a cappella, symphonic, piano, guitar, whatever. Same song. Wild array of interpretations.

Just like there’s no one right way to deliver “To be or not to be,” there’s no one right way to tell your story.

Are there wrong ways? Sure. If Mariah went flat (sacrilege to even suggest, I know!), she’d scrap that take and do another.

But tempo, dynamics, emotional point of view, phrasing… all of these can be leveraged based on your evolving skill and the needs of each particular audience.

Give it a whirl. Tell your story musically. See what unlocks. Not just inside your story…

… but inside you.

The Page&Stage Podcast: PREDICTOR

The next episode of the Page&Stage Podcast will land in your inboxes on Monday.

In this episode, I sit down with Jennifer Blackmer and Meg Crane to discuss the fascinating story behind the invention of the home pregnancy test. Meg shares her journey from working as a graphic designer and illustrator to developing a prototype that would empower women with the ability to test for pregnancy at home. Despite initial resistance and skepticism from (all male) executives, Meg’s determination and innovative thinking led to a groundbreaking product that changed the landscape of women’s health. Jennifer, the playwright of PREDICTOR, adds depth to the conversation by exploring how she adapted Meg’s story into a stage production, highlighting the intersection of art and science.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

And if you want to put faces with voices, the video version will be available over on YouTube.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Music Man” Cannon

In this episode, I interview Jim Sorensen, exploring his diverse journey through theater, boxing, and a new career in financial services. Jim shares his experiences in acting, the challenges of portraying complex characters, and the importance of storytelling in both theater and life. He discusses his love for radio theater and his unique adaptation of A Christmas Carol. He also reflects on the lessons learned throughout his career, emphasizing the need for financial literacy among artists. The conversation highlights the interconnectedness of creativity and practicality in the arts.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

CORRECTION

After recording, Jim emailed saying he had misspoken. While talking about his work in the boxing industry—and that’s pugilism, not cardboard—Jim mentioned a recent bout that his buddy Paulie Malignaggi had fought in. In our interview, Jim mistakenly implied that Paulie had lost, but in fact, Paulie won! So if you run into Paulie, be sure to congratulate him. And if you run into Jim, forgive him.

Jim’s Links

• Learn all about Jim and his work at his website: jimsoren.com

• Info and tix for A CHRISTMAS CAROL: A LIVE RADIO PLAY

• Learn more about Tampa Repertory Theatre

• Visit Jim at Instagram and Facebook

Jim’s Bio

Jim Sorensen has been an actor, singer, administrator, designer, director, and all-around theatre practitioner for over 30 years. Onstage credits include: Off-Broadway/New York: THE BODY BEAUTIFUL, PLAIN & FANCY (York), MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET (Engeman), PLAGUED: A LOVE STORY (NYMF). Regional: BEAUTIFUL (Reagle Music Theatre), THE 39 STEPS, A FEW GOOD MEN (Flat Rock Playhouse), INTO THE WOODS, THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE (Fulton), LES MISERABLES (Arts Center of Coastal Carolina). Florida: BAKERSFIELD MIST (The Off-Central), NEXT TO NORMAL, STRAIGHT WHITE MEN (TampaRep), MAMMA MIA!, THE PRODUCERS, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW (American Stage), WEBB’S CITY (Palladium), BUTLER (Florida Studio), SOUTH PACIFIC, 1776 (Asolo), TIME STANDS STILL (Banyan), THE BUFFALO KINGS, CABARET, THE NORMAL HEART, BECKY SHAW, THE BURNT PART BOYS (freeFall), THE BLUE ROOM (Stageworks). A multiple award-winning actor, Jim was also founding Managing Director of freeFall Theatre, served as Managing Director at American Stage, and is currently the Managing Artistic Producer at Tampa Repertory Theatre. After three years with ProBox TV, producing live boxing events - and occasionally appearing as Ring Announcer - Jim is on the setting out on his next big adventure: serving as a Financial Advisor with Edward Jones.

If you enjoy or find value in this podcast, I’d like to ask you a quick favor.

Leaving a short review or comment helps me out a ton. It tells the algorithmic overlords that people are listening, and it helps other folks discover the show.

So if you can post a review—just click the purple button below to open Apple Podcasts and scroll down to Ratings and Reviews—or leave a comment on this episode here on Substack or over on YouTube, wherever you happen to be listening or watching, I would be incredibly grateful.

I'm happy to leave a review!

I use an incredible online app, Riverside.fm, to produce this podcast.

If you’re interested in producing your own podcast, creating other audio or video content, or hosting a livestream, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Here’s a link so you can check ‘em out! (Full disclosure, this is an affiliate link, but I wouldn’t put it here if I didn’t believe in and use Riverside.fm myself!)

Check out Riverside.fm

A quick shout out to Ievgen Poltavskyi from Pixabay for the musical underscoring!

This Saturday is the final performance of LAST OUT for the 2025 season. I’ve regaled you with anecdotes and pictures from the various tour stops throughout the year. We’ve played in a wide variety of venues.

This Pensacola venue may be the most challenging yet.

Check it out…

We are in the Sanders Beach-Corrine Jones Resource Center. It’s a community center right on the water with a stunning view.

But here’s the thing. This venue is not really a theatre. We are, in fact, the first ever play presented here! It’s basically a ballroom used for weddings and banquets and parties. A stunning view benefits such events. But during a play? A stunning view can distract. Thankfully, with the recent time change, it should be plenty dark outside when our play starts.

Even so, you may have noticed in the picture above that there are only THREE front lights hanging from the ceiling.

And no wing space.

And you can’t see this, but there’s only one handheld microphone.

And there’s a great dance floor, but no permanent seating. The team at the Center is setting up chairs for us, though I suppose we could’ve gone picnic style!

So yeah. Light cues? Eliminated. We get on or off.

Sound? Renting what we need from a local audio company.

Actors? Once again we’ll be adapting some staging and relying even more heavily on their emotional honesty to carry the story.

But you know what? It’s all ok. The actors will offer. The audience will receive. The talkback will heal. Because no matter the technical variables, the story will be told.

This is a truth that took me years to understand… stories are not static.

Early in my theatre career, I wanted precision. I wanted pristine duplication. I wanted… well, I wanted to control my stories. As I matured and evolved, and my storytelling deepened, I understood that it was far more important to let my stories breathe.

Because stories are living, ever-evolving things. They change with the audience. They change as the teller experiences more and more life. They shift, like water, filling variously shaped containers and trickling through newly discovered cracks.

If you seek to control your story, you will crush it. If you squeeze it tight, you will suffocate it. If you insist it stay the same telling to telling, you will extinguish it.

Let your stories breathe. They are precious things, but you can’t treat them preciously.

Because ultimately they are not for you. They are for your reader, your listener, your audience.

They’re gonna bend and twist and partake of your story however they want to, anyway.

See, if you tell your story to a hundred people, you’re not telling one story.

You’re telling a hundred.

The Page&Stage Podcast: THE FUNNY VOICE GUY

The next episode of the Page&Stage Podcast will land in your inboxes on Monday.

In this episode, I interview Jim Sorensen, exploring his diverse journey through theater, boxing, and a new career in financial services. Jim shares his experiences in acting, the challenges of portraying complex characters, and the importance of storytelling in both theater and life. He discusses his love for radio theater and his unique adaptation of A Christmas Carol. He also reflects on the lessons learned throughout his career, emphasizing the need for financial literacy among artists. The conversation highlights the interconnectedness of creativity and practicality in the arts.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

And if you want to put faces with voices, the video version will be available over on YouTube.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Ballroom with a View” Cannon

I’m surely dating myself here, but my brother and I had quite the collection of He-Man figurines when we were kids.

For those not in the know, when Prince Adam needed to perform some heroics, he would pull out his sword, thrust it skyward, and proclaim, “By the power of Grayskull!”

He would emerge from the subsequent lightning and special effects as He-Man.

The power of his sword-based incantation would even transform his cowardly pet tiger, Cringer, into the courageous and deadly Battle Cat.

You’d think such a powerful sword would have a kick-ass name, like Excaliber or Ashbringer or Mjolnir (ok that’s a hammer, but still). But no. It’s just called The Power Sword. But I guess on-the-nose is par for the course… He-Man? Battle Cat? Skeletor? Yeah, we got it, Mattel.

But here’s the thing about He-Man’s lazily named sword… it was his totem.

Writers and storytellers should embrace the power of totems. Even in normal day-to-day life, totems are objects of power that lift routine into ritual.

My desk is covered in totems.

Every morning, I set my mug of coffee down on a coaster that was a gift from a student; it’s stone and has a Gaelic infinity symbol.

There’s a piece of driftwood and a large shell, both of which I pulled from the Pacific while visiting the Oregon coast with my beloved Rebecca.

A prosperity stone that was a parting gift from a former colleague.

Finisher medals from 10K’s and half-marathons and you better believe from my one full marathon.

Baseballs—one an errant foul ball that almost clobbered me as I was standing in a concessions line, the other the very ball I threw out as a first pitch at old Busch Stadium.

A small, engraved wooden box with treasures inside: a miniature Gandalf that my aunt gave me when I was a kid, a perfectly spherical worry stone that Rebecca gave me early in our relationship, a stopper from a bottle of exquisite bourbon that I drank with a friend during vacation, and two poker chips. One is an oversized, metal, commemorative chip from a retired Green Beret who came to me for guidance on how to write his heartbreaking, redemptive story, and the other is a clay Vegas chip gifted to me by an actor friend during a late-night game, not long before he passed away from a heart attack at the unfair age of fifty.

Even something as simple and subjective as a children’s coloring placemat from an Italian joint. Crayons have massacred the cartoon figures. But I have it secured to my whiteboard with a magnet, because during the holidays last year my awesome little niece Lucybear and I colored it together as the family broke bread before enjoying the Lights in Bloom at the nearby botanical gardens.

To you… it’s bad art. To me… it’s proof I’m a cool uncle. And heck, it just makes me smile.

All of these totems throb with unseen power. I’m not sure what would happen if I lifted Lucybear’s artwork to the sky and bellowed, “By the power of eggplant parmesan!” But the power throbs all the same.

If you’re ever at a loss for the start to a story, or you need prompting for a bit of memoir, or you just want to remind yourself that you are indeed connected to other people, take a glance around your office. Your bedroom. Dig through that box in the attic. You’ve surrounded yourself with totems.

Take one in hand, lift it high, and let the power flow.

Check out the TedX video below. I had the great honor of being one of the storyteller’s coaches as she prepped.

Her story revolves around a totem. A small thing. But an everything.

The Page&Stage Podcast—in case you missed it last week!

In this episode, I’m joined by playwright Jackie Goldfinger, actor L. James, and director Sue Wolf. We explore the multifaceted world of theater, focusing on the importance of storytelling, the challenges of playwriting, and the unique experiences of military veterans in the arts. We discuss the development of the one-person show BACKWARDS, FORWARDS, BACK, highlighting the role of virtual reality in modern storytelling and the impact of PTSD on both characters and audiences. Our conversation emphasizes the need for trust between directors and actors, the significance of compelling characters, and vital support organizations for veterans.

You can listen on the Substack App, Apple, or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

And if you’re enjoying or finding value in the Page&Stage Podcast, please leave a review. They truly help! Just click the purple button below to open Apple Podcasts and scroll down to Ratings and Reviews.

I'm happy to leave a review!

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Coolest Uncle Ever?” Cannon

This week The Observer—a local community newspaper—did a deep-dive into the Joyful Journeys program over at the Senior Friendship Center.

You’ve heard me talk about this program and the memoir anthology I published to celebrate these wonderful first-time memoirists.

Reporter Ian Swaby spoke with me, a couple of the students, the donors who support the program (shout out to Pat and Bob Gussin!), and the staff at the Center.

Ian’s terrific article dropped yesterday, and I wanted to share it with you, in the hopes that you’ll be inspired to write and tell your own stories.

Because there’s no such thing as an ordinary life.

You can also access the article directly on The Observer’s website. Just mash that purple button below.

Mashable article button!

Or just keep on scrolling. I pulled it word for word.

Thank-you, Ian, for the guest appearance!

Group of seniors becomes first-time authors with memoir writing program

by Ian Swaby

Valerie diLorenzo says people have always told her that her writing isn’t the greatest.

An actress and singer by trade, diLorenzo said she tends write the way she speaks, not necessarily paying attention to the grammatical aspects.

However, that was not an obstacle to her being able to share a story honoring her brother John DiLorenzo (spelled differently), who died of cancer 20 years ago, in the hopes of being a guide for other families facing similar situations.

diLorenzo was thrilled to be one of seven contributing first-time authors to “Joyful Journeys, Vol. 1,” published by Ibis Books for Senior Friendship Centers.

“It’s amazing, like I’m a published author, like it’s the coolest thing in the world, and what a gift,” she said, noting the generosity of Bob and Pat Gussin, who funded the organization’s new Gussin Center for Creative Writing.

The Gussins of Siesta Key found their way into the world of publishing later in life.

After the couple retired from careers at Johnson & Johnson, where he was chief scientific officer and she was a physician, they moved to Sarasota and began volunteering at Senior Friendship Centers, which then ran its own medical clinic.

Pat also sought to publish her first book, “Shadow of Death,” and as Bob Gussin learned more about the publishing process, he decided to start his own company. In 2005, the Gussins founded Oceanview Publishing, which specialized in mysteries, thrillers and suspense.

“We started getting better and better stuff to publish, and eventually, I would say, we became one of the premier independent publishers,” said Bob Gussin.

About two years ago, they turned over the company to their managers, but their latest endeavor has been to support the Gussin Center for Creative Writing, for which they have provided the endowment, with $300,000 currently committed.

As a result, seven first-time authors, who are all older individuals, undertook their own forays into the world of writing and publishing through the Gussin Memoir Writing Program, with a second series of classes now underway.

In the 20-week program, participants meet bi-weekly with author and instructor Jason Cannon, and each participant provides a piece or short stories that Cannon publishes through his company, Ibis Books.

“It’s a collection of all these stories from these fascinating, amazing people who have lived just hugely various lives, and I just feel like the luckiest guy in the world, just to meet all these people and hear their stories and help them get the stories out into the hands of readers,” Cannon said.

The 180-page volume features stories by Janice Boring, diLorenzo, Silvia Flores, Maria Corazon Gaffar, Carol Hochberg, Art Mahoney and Debby Vento Russek.

Primarily a theater teacher for 25 years, Cannon pivoted in 2022 to the writing field, which included establishing the small company Ibis Books and working with Senior Friendship Centers on its “Joyful Journeys” author series.

He says most of his teaching work involves people who aren’t creatives, and assuring them they have stories that need to be told.

He says at Senior Friendship Centers, the bar to entry is low; participants can record spoken stories using transcription software and receive help editing the material.

“They kind of rediscover that they’re important, that they matter, that they’re seen, that society is not done with them, and I just can’t think of anything more important to do for people who are maybe past their career and working years, but still have so much to offer, and their stories are one of the richest repositories of wisdom and truth and love and honesty that I think we could ever tap into,” he said.

He says there’s no expectation of hitting bestseller lists, but the benefit will be the chance for families to read the book, and the encouragement and agency the authors receive.

The group’s oldest author is 92 years of age, and Cannon says the desire motivates many participants for their children and grandchildren to know about their experiences.

diLorenzo says that her piece honoring her brother John, titled “7,300 Days,” is more than the sad story that one might expect, but even works in humor.

For instance, she wrote about how family and friends would gather in the oncology ward throughout the night, in what became a community-building space.

“I talk about this in the story, that other people, and our family and friends, were hearing from my brother, ‘Oh, they all came down last night. We had such a great time. We played Monopoly, we watched this,’ and they were like, ‘How can you be having a good time?’ And he’s like, ‘Well, we had a good time.’ And so then, more and more people wanted to come down at night to go and hang out in the oncology ward,” she said.

She says those small silver linings helped the family to navigate what was an awful experience, and she hopes the story will help others dealing with a cancer diagnosis or with grief.

“You just don’t know what to do or how to act and there’s no rule book for it, so I really wanted to talk about grief and navigating grief, and that it’s very different for the sibling, the parent, the child, the spouse, but it’s all about loss, and how you navigate the loss, and trying to find something that you can hang on to that would be memorable or uplifting,” she said.

Yet she said the class also led to “so much more than I ever could have expected or wanted,” as Cannon’s writing prompts would send her in directions she didn’t expect.

“You just go down these inroads, and I think it just it enriched me and enriched other people, and this whole idea of sharing memoir, it’s very encompassing and relatable,” she said.

Another contributor, Art Mahoney, says writing has always been important to him because of his career in advertising, although he was able to enjoy a new experience writing about himself, in what he calls “really a great program.”

He wrote three stories, one of which was about his mother and his experiences with her as she developed Alzheimer’s disease, and another which was about family gatherings.

He says during family celebrations, his grandfather on his mother’s side, who came from Italy, had an odd habit.

“He would take a bottle of Chianti, and he would put a stalk of celery, Italian celery, in the top of the wine, and he would kind of suck the wine through the stalk of celery, and basically, would do that almost the entire day, let’s say on a Christmas celebration… As kids, we just thought it was very, very strange and very funny and it made us laugh,” he said.

The third story dealt with a historical event he says left a profound impact on him, the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963, which took place while he was attending a graduate program in public communication at Boston University.

When he was in the graduate library, he saw a black and white television with Walter Cronkite announcing that the President had just been shot and killed in Dallas, Texas.

“Everybody looked at each other in shock, and it was just a giant shock,” he said, noting it was particularly impactful for younger people, among whom the President was popular. The story covers how he drove home to be with his family, spending four days watching the state funeral and the aftermath of the assassination.

“I wrote about my emotional reaction to that on that day, when it happened, which has never left me,’ he said. “I mean, it just was probably the most shocking thing that ever happened in my life.”

The seven authors have told a wide variety of stories, and Declan Sheehy, chief advancement officer at Senior Friendship Centers, says the work has the ability to motivate others as well.

“I think it encourages others to kind of to take a leap into the unknown,” he said. “That was one of the things that Jason really helped us with. ‘I’ve never written anything before. I don’t know how I can do it.’ Don’t worry about that. ‘What do I write about?’ Write about your own experiences. ‘Well, I’m not sure what I should write about.’ But we’ll help you figure that out.”

The Page&Stage Podcast—new episode dropped this week!

In this episode, I’m joined by playwright Jackie Goldfinger, actor L. James, and director Sue Wolf. We explore the multifaceted world of theater, focusing on the importance of storytelling, the challenges of playwriting, and the unique experiences of military veterans in the arts. We discuss the development of the one-person show BACKWARDS, FORWARDS, BACK, highlighting the role of virtual reality in modern storytelling and the impact of PTSD on both characters and audiences. Our conversation emphasizes the need for trust between directors and actors, the significance of compelling characters, and vital support organizations for veterans.

You can listen on the Substack App, Apple, or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

And if you’re enjoying or finding value in the Page&Stage Podcast, please leave a review. They truly help! Just click the purple button below to open Apple Podcasts and scroll down to Ratings and Reviews.

I'm happy to leave a review!

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Observable” Cannon

In this episode, I’m joined by playwright Jackie Goldfinger, actor L. James, and director Sue Wolf. We explore the multifaceted world of theater, focusing on the importance of storytelling, the challenges of playwriting, and the unique experiences of military veterans in the arts. We discuss the development of the one-person show BACKWARDS, FORWARDS, BACK, highlighting the role of virtual reality in modern storytelling and the impact of PTSD on both characters and audiences. Our conversation emphasizes the need for trust between directors and actors, the significance of compelling characters, and vital support organizations for veterans.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

Guest’s Links

• Get tickets to BACKWARDS, FORWARDS, BACK at United Solo on November 14 HERE.

• Learn more about Jackie and all her plays HERE.

• Get Jackie’s book, PLAYWRITING WITH PURPOSE, HERE.

• Learn more about L. and all his projects HERE.

• Visit L. on Instagram HERE.

• Learn more about Sue and all her projects HERE.

• Learn more about Sue’s amazing non-profit to help foster kids—Foster Your Dreams—HERE.

• Learn more about Operation Warrior Resolution HERE.

• Learn more about VoteVets HERE.

Guest’s Bios

L. James (Performer) is a proud native of Paterson, New Jersey and US Army Veteran. He received his BA in Theater at Ramapo College of New Jersey and an MFA in Fine Arts from Florida State University. Since graduating, he has been seen in TV/Flim such projects as Law & Order, CBS’ FBI, The Zombie Wedding, The Mooch. He’s performed at regional theaters along the east coast, Asolo Rep., Shakespeare & Co, ASC, FreeFall Theatre and more. He also has shared his in voice in voiceovers, audiobooks and announcements for local companies. L. is a proud veteran and an accomplished performer whose work centers on themes of resilience, healing, and the complexities of military life. He brings lived experience and authenticity to this acclaimed role.

Sue Wolf (Director) began her career on Broadway... as an usher. Tired of reciting the alphabet backwards, she started directing plays and musicals. She eventually moved to Los Angeles, where she lived in her car in Beverly Hills, ‘showered’ in a doctor’s office, and landed a job in the casting department for Norman Lear. She played alto sax at The Central on Sunset Boulevard (Viper Room now) by night and by day she was a writer’s assistant on “All In The Family.” Ultimately after working every job in production and writing for Weekly and Daily Variety Newspaper, Sue became a producer and director for stand-up and sketch comedy shows and documentaries. Her TV shows are on Comedy Central, MTV, Disney, Lifetime, CBS, ABC, TBS, UPN and has over 50 shows on HBO with seven Cable Ace nominations and two wins! In addition to co-creating the classic award-winning series “One Night Stand,” she produced the first (almost all black) stand-up show for Eddie Murphy TV called “Uptown Comedy Express,” and the first all-female stand-up HBO show called “Women of the Night.” Sue produced and/or directed specials with Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, Chris Rock, Ellen DeGeneres, Martin Short, Paul Rodriguez, Martin Mull, Denis Leary, Joy Behar and many more. Her films include documentaries “Iroquois Art,” Richard Pryor’s “I Ain’t Dead Yet Mutherf*cker”, and “Rodney Dangerfield.” Narratives: Markus Wolf for Paramount (script Jim Webb produced with Larry Brezner and a film called “Zombie Wedding.” She is proud of her community work which includes serving on the board of NYRep, starting FosterYourDream.org, a 501c3 that makes dreams come true for foster kids, serving on the Friends Committee of Hollywood Beautification Team (a non-profit that paints out 2 million miles of graffiti and ‘greens’ L.A.), serving on Eric Garcetti’s Gang Safety Commission, serving as Lemon Grove Park’s Board President, and receiving two citations from Mayor Garcetti for rolling up her sleeves and getting involved. She plans to live to 150.

Jacqueline Goldfinger (Playwright) is a playwright, poet, and librettist whose work has been produced in the U.S. and around the world. Her book, Playwriting with Purpose: A Guide and Workbook for Playwrights, is taught at colleges and universities around the country. Her plays have been produced by The Kennedy Center, United Solo (Off-Broadway), Court Theatre (New Zealand), École nationale de théâtre (Canada), Urbanite Theatre, Contemporary American Theatre Festival, Theatre Exile, Vortex Rep, Perseverance Theatre, among others. Her work has been developed at Maryland Opera Studio, the National Theater (UK), New Georges, La Mama, Disquiet (Portugal), Drama League, Lark Playwrights Week, National New Play Network, among others. Her work has been supported by organizations including Yaddo, National Endowment for the Arts, Millay Colony, Sloan Foundation, and the Orchard Project. Her opera, choral and art song libretti have been performed at Sydney Opera House (Australia), Opera Columbus, Resonance Works, BBC Radio 3 (UK), Voces8 (UK), Oberlin Opera, Chor Leoni (Canada), Chiesa di Ognissanti (Italy), San Diego Opera/Without Walls Festival, and others. The filmed version of her short opera, Letter to Our Children, with Composer Justine F. Chen has screened at film festivals around the world. Her plays have won the Yale Prize, Generations Award, Smith Prize,among others. Her plays and libretti have been published by Yale Press, Theatrical Rights Worldwide, Concord Theatricals, Dramatists Play Service, Edition Peters, and others. Her poetry has been published by literary magazines including American Poetry Review, Poetry Wales, and Beyond Queer Words Poetry Anthology. As a dramaturg, she specializes in new work and has worked with La Jolla Playhouse, Philadelphia Theatre Company, Arden Theatre, and others. As an educator, she has taught playwriting and dramaturgy at University of Pennsylvania, UC Davis, and others. Education: BA English Literature-Theatre at Agnes Scott College. MFA Screenwriting at University of Southern California.

If you enjoy or find value in this podcast, I’d like to ask you a quick favor.

Leaving a short review or comment helps me out a ton. It tells the algorithmic overlords that people are listening, and it helps other folks discover the show.

So if you can post a review—just click the purple button below to open Apple Podcasts and scroll down to Ratings and Reviews—or leave a comment on this episode here on Substack or over on YouTube, wherever you happen to be listening or watching, I would be incredibly grateful.

I'm happy to leave a review!

I use an incredible online app, Riverside.fm, to produce this podcast.

If you’re interested in producing your own podcast, creating other audio or video content, or hosting a livestream, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Here’s a link so you can check ‘em out! (Full disclosure, this is an affiliate link, but I wouldn’t put it here if I didn’t believe in and use Riverside.fm myself!)

Check out Riverside.fm

A quick shout out to Ievgen Poltavskyi from Pixabay for the musical underscoring!

This week I had lunch with my parents. I’m lucky they live close by and we get to lunch often.

They downsized two years ago, which initiated an extended purging phase. So many boxes of accumulated life stuff! And not just theirs, but Grandma and Grandpa’s.

This means every time I visit, I leave with some little treasure they’ve unearthed from the myriad totes and sacks and filing cabinets and folders they are slowly but surely banishing from their closets, lanai, and carport.

All about process, yeah?

This week, here’s what they handed me…

We moved soon after. I don’t remember any of those kids. The K student teacher I think I remember. Cathy, maybe? Did my parents rent her the upstairs flat?

I shared these pics with my memoir class as a prompt. Because even if those faces didn’t ring any bells, boy oh boy did the memories come flooding back, and memoir prompts are all about unleashing the memory kraken.

I don’t mean memories as fully realized narratives. I mean flashes. Images. Random details. Snatches of voices and sound. Pieces of this and that. Impressions. Feelings.

Running the 50-yard dash on Field Day and feeling like I was flying… or was that a dream?

Seeing a bigger kid bully a smaller kid during physical education—I think we were learning how to square dance??—and planting my hands in the bully’s back to send him sprawling… then the immediate tidal wave of remorse… then getting detention…

Forging a note in my crooked first-grade chicken scratch, signing my mom’s name, trying to avoid the lesson on how to swish mouthwash… why was I so afraid of mouthwash?

Memoir is not autobiography. Story is not reporting. Facts are not truth. Facts are bricks in the winding road of truth.

“History” and “story” are etymologically connected. Both come from the Latin “historia”—meaning account, narrative, or tale.

Even more compelling... the Latin derived from the Greek, which originally meant inquiry.

We shape history via inquiry. And telling stories is HOW we inquire.

There’s even more cool etymological overlap in Middle English, but the key point is this…

Curiosity drives stories. The what, how, and why of our human experience.

I tell my memoir students all the time: memoir is exercising insatiable curiosity about yourself. The same applies when working with playwrights and actors to transform their lived experience into theatre.

When you dig into yourself to unearth your stories, you aren’t trying to report facts. You are inquiring about the human condition. And memory is full of question marks.

Excavating your stories and telling them to others creates shared history.

You don’t have to tell everyone’s story to have an impact.

Just tell yours.

LIFELINE PRODUCTIONS 2026 Season Announcement!

My good friends over at Lifeline Productions have big and wonderful plans for 2026.

Lifeline harnesses the transformative power of theater, storytelling, and film to illuminate mental health challenges and dismantle stigma.

Through creative expression, Lifeline fosters empathy, connection, and healing, ensuring every voice is heard and every story is valued.

2023 brought CLOWNS LIKE ME, which in 2024 went Off-Broadway.

2025 brought ENTANGLED.

Both world premieres, accompanied by talkbacks and workshops.

Amazing people doing awesome things.

But 2026 is gonna bring TWO world premiere shows and an even wider array of workshops and events, both virtual and in-person. The tools and support you need to cope with whatever mental health issues you may be dealing with… Lifeline is here to help.

This is storytelling in action!

Check out the 2026 Season Announcement video below. I’m incredibly honored to be working on both of next year’s shows, storycoaching the first and writing the second.

The Page&Stage Podcast—next episode landing Monday!

In this episode, I’m joined by playwright Jackie Goldfinger, actor L. James, and director Sue Wolf. We explore the multifaceted world of theater, focusing on the importance of storytelling, the challenges of playwriting, and the unique experiences of military veterans in the arts. We discuss the development of the one-person show BACKWARDS, FORWARDS, BACK, highlighting the role of virtual reality in modern storytelling and the impact of PTSD on both characters and audiences. Our conversation emphasizes the need for trust between directors and actors, the significance of compelling characters, and vital support organizations for veterans.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

And if you want to put faces with voices, the video version will be available over on YouTube.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Fashion Icon” Cannon

I ran south into Canada.

See, the Detroit Free Press International Half-Marathon had its 48th running last Sunday, and the geographical quirkiness of the Detroit River meant we ran over the Ambassador Bridge south into Windsor, Canada.

We returned north into Michigan via a tunnel. The only underwater marathon mile in the world, I believe.

All told, some twenty-six thousand runners from 30 countries participated in the various races over the weekend—5K, half, full. That’s twenty-six thousand stories. The how and what and why of all these people putting their bodies and minds through joyful agony and agonizing joy.

The spectators were out in full force, defying the gusting wind and on-again-off-again drizzle, making noise and holding up homemade bits of marker-on-cardboard encouragement.

My three favorite signs…

You trained for this race. I made this sign. We’re both heroes.

And…

Worst parade ever.

And…

1 in 1000 marathoners poops their pants while running. Are u that 1?

Thankfully, I was not. But at 1 per 1000, that means a couple dozen folks had, shall we say, a squishy race.

Talk about a story…

The winner of the men’s full marathon? He won last year, too! Back-to-back victories. This year, though, he got to kiss his three-week old son at the finish line.

He also finished his full marathon in ten fewer minutes than I finished my half.

Yeah, sure, wow, but I can’t help but turn that impressive fun fact into a Rocky Balboa-styled training montage in my head. The investment of time and intention. Even as a newborn came gurgling into his life.

We saw his picture in the paper. Sweaty and elated. Wife and baby. But that’s only one tiny piece of his story.

Stories are invisible until they are seen. Silent until they are told.

Stories are built with heel-crunching steps, day in and day out.

Elation filled that moment when he zipped across the finish line—no one in front, twenty-six thousand behind—only because of the hundreds of thousands of steps that came before. Not in the race itself. But in the training.

Like I talked about last week: the real story is the struggle.

This week, my race is over. This particular batch of training is finished. The beautiful medal hangs above my desk. Just as twenty-six thousand other medals hang in twenty-six thousand other places of honor around the world.

Our medals are all the same. But each represents a singular story.

We all ran the same route. But in our own way, and in our own time.

For Rebecca’s cousin Allison, it was her tenth full marathon. For Rebecca’s sisters Emily and Sarah, it was their first ever half, and I am so dang proud of them!

One race. So many stories.

I look at my medal, and I see not only the finish line, but the flight to Michigan. The training calendar on the fridge. The guy at Fleet Feet selling me energy gummies. The careful driving plans I wrote out to make sure we found parking without dead-ending into streets closed off for the race route. I hear Rebecca on the phone with Emily, swapping training times and distances over the last several months. The alarm going off at four in the morning on race day. The whistle of the wind at the top of the Ambassador Bridge. The echoing chant of “Jared Goff! Jared Goff!” reverberating in the tunnel.

That medal contains months and multitudes of memories.

So often in classes or workshops I’ll hear students worrying about their story not being big enough, their lives not being interesting enough.

Nonsense. There is no such thing as an ordinary life. You don’t have to win back-to-back marathons to produce an awesome story. You just have to run.

Look around. What “medals” do you have displayed?

There are stories inside every one—and everyone—just waiting to be told.

CROSSROADS has dropped

You may recall that friend of the Page&Stage Podcast Seth Gordon had a new book coming out.

And now—oh yes—come out it has!

Here’s the blurb:

The American theatre is at a crossroads. After a worldwide pandemic and social reckonings that took place just before and around the pandemic, the way non-profit theatres lead their institutions and produce their plays are being reexamined almost from scratch. Are we headed in the right direction? Many of these theatres are post-pandemic, experiencing declines in subscriptions and overall viewerships that are imperiling their existence. How might they stop this slide? Do they need a whole new approach to how they fit into their communities? Crossroads in the American Theatre examines these questions and more through interviews with leaders of major non-theatres throughout the United States. They contemplate these questions, along with the main one: What do we do from here?

Buy CROSSROADS here!

And to hear Seth talk more about the book and all things theatre, check out my podcast convo with him from earlier this year—

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Non-Poopy Pants” Cannon

I’m back up north because my beloved Rebecca, her two sisters, her cousin, and I are all running the Detroit Free Press International Marathon and Half-Marathon early Sunday morning.

The cousin is doing the full. The rest of us are going halvsies.

We had to sign up with our passports because the route starts in Detroit, takes us over the Ambassador Bridge into Windsor, Canada, and then back through a tunnel—the only underwater marathon mile in the world, apparently.

Wish us luck!

Back in January of 2023, I did my first full marathon, out in Phoenix/Scottsdale.

It was a rock’n’roll race, with killer bands scattered along the route, including a fantastic close-your-eyes-and-you’d-swear-it-was-1980 AC/DC cover band.

The first seven miles, all the full-marathoners and half-marathoners ran together, a massive party bobbing along at six or so miles per hour. The air was cool and misty. It was racously fun. My training had gone smoothly. I was feeling great. This was gonna be easy-peasy.

Then the routes split. I had run side-by-side with Rebecca those first 7 miles (she was doing the half). We exchanged a quick, sweaty kiss, she peeled off to the left, I turned right…

And the party disappeared. There were far more halfers than fullers, and the herd thinned quick.

In an instant, I went from being surrounded by a couple hundred of my newest and closest friends to being utterly alone. The nearest runners—those other brave and foolish souls who had decided to test their endurance—were some 40 or 50 yards ahead of and behind me.

I gulped. Without the camaraderie of the collective, the entire experience fundamentally altered.

I remember thinking… My real race just started.

26.2 hadn’t seemed so bad shoulder to shoulder with other racers. But now… the 19 remaining miles loomed like thunderstruck clouds.

That first hour had been a bouncing joy. But now… the next 3-4 hours stretched ahead, elastic and taunting.

The physical obstacles faded. But now… the mental obstacles rose from their pits, shrugged off their slumber, and wrapped their tentacles around my vision, my hearing, my slowly swelling feet, my constantly dry mouth.

When would this ever end?

Around mile 16, I crested a bridge that happened to cross over the half-marathon route. There was a volunteer down below, hollering to those damn halfers, “You’re almost there! Just one mile left!”

An exquisite rage at this generous volunteer burbled in my throat. One mile left?? I’ve got TEN to go, you torturous monster! I tried to laugh at the irony, thinking how I’d share this little story with Rebecca when I finished. If I ever finished. My gnashing teeth shredded my laugh into tattered hisses.

I ran the whole thing. I had trained that way, and all the gods and goddesses as my witnesses I was going to race that way. Every bridge, every hill, every valley, I did… not… walk.

But then, as I began the final mile—and I don’t know which kilted rock’n’roll demon foisted this idea upon the organizers—the route dog-legged left and up a cursed on-ramp! The steepest incline of the entire race had been held back until the very end.

My body revolted. I walked. I trudged. I climbed. This mini-Everest had slowed everyone, so a loose knot of bedraggled marathoners coalesced into a shuddering, whimpering amoeba of dehydrated humanity.

I summited. I hairpinned right. A jolly sign read “Mile 26.” Only point two to go! And it was ever so slightly downhill.

Oh baby. I took off at a sprint. I flew that final fifth of a mile. I felt like Usain Bolt, though he probably could have smoked me walking backward. Didn’t matter. The finish line came into view. I recorded that final 30-second stretch on my phone. It’s jittery as all get out, but it’s video PROOF.

There’s a kooky coda to this story. As I stagger-hobbled to the medals and the water and the bananas and the beer, I found Rebecca and our friends Steve and Amanda. Amanda had knocked out the 5K the day before, so she was loose and limber. Steve had done the full. He and Rebecca and I were sore and puffy-footed. And now we faced a mile walk back to where our rental car was parked.

My legs trembling and my back barking, I said, “If someone had a rickshaw here, they would make a KILLING.”

Two seconds later, what should appear but a dude in his homemade, motorized rickshaw, complete with bluetooth speakers blasting.

“I don’t care what it costs,” I said. “It’s on me.”

We clambered in, took selfies, and sang along to “Baby Got Back.” We felt no pain, surfing the quintessential runner’s high. We didn’t want that ride to end.

Endings and beginnings.

The euphoria of that last quarter mile, the joyous relief of crossing the finish line, and the elation of manifesting a rickshaw… those scenes ring and sing only because of the months of training, the shocking isolation of the moment my real race began, and the abject agony of that final, uphill slog.

There’s an algebra to the climax of a story. The struggle is the variable in the equation.

The more awesome the struggle, the more potent the payoff. Direct, inverse, proportional relationship.

Don’t shortchange yourself, your characters, or your story. Embrace the struggle.

Love the moment your real race begins.

BOOK EVENT NEXT THURSDAY

Next Thursday, October 23, at 5pm, join me and seven amazing first-time memoirists at the Senior Friendship Center for the next installment of the Joyful Journeys Author Series!

The flyer below has all the info, and a QR code you can scan to reserve a spot, or just mash the purple button and it’ll take you to the sign-up page.

Mash me!

I’ll be there hosting and selling copies of this memoir anthology, along with my own books.

Be sure to comment or hit me up with any questions/comments/complaints, thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Highway to Hell” Cannon

There are times in rehearsal when an actor will approach an especially emotional moment. Often, in the face of such an emotional moment, that actor will abruptly laugh.

Not because the moment is funny. But because it’s scary or sticky.

And the laugh is a defense mechanism.

But actors are meant to be instruments of courage, so I have learned as a director, when that laugh blurts out, to say—GO! Whatever that wall is, run through it! Whatever that cliff is, jump off it! Don’t think, just GO!

This tip tends to work in real life situations, too. When resistance bubbles up, when imposterism tickles you behind the ear, it’s usually a sign you’re onto something really, really delicious.

But here’s the thing about jumping off a cliff… sometimes you have to build your wings on the way down. Build your plane mid-flight.

Learn by doing.

Much like this storytelling project I’ve been working on these last three or so years.

Those of you who’ve been with Page&Stage for the long haul know what I mean. You’ve plummeted, pulled up before hitting the ground, and settled into a somewhat stable glide with me through four newsletter delivery platforms, three website hosts, and two podcast softwares.

And now, I am proud to announce, we are gaining altitude by shedding my original sole proprietorship and launching into an LLC.

Behold!

As I’ve continually refined and reflected on my offerings, I’ve realized that everything I do—from writing and publishing to theatre and teaching to newsletters and podcasts—snuggles underneath the storytelling umbrella.

And that’s what Cannon Story Company (LLC!) is going to help me do in a more focused manner.

Moving forward, you won’t see many changes here at the newsletter level. It’ll still come to your inbox every Friday, and will continue to offer tips, tricks, inspiration, and encouragement for storytellers of all stripes, along with occasional anecdotes and announcements of cool storytelling events.

My podcast schedule will be wonky for a while. I’ve got interviews in the can for Page&Stage and I’m drafting future 100 PLAYS scripts, but that regular Monday drop has—for good reasons—been upended.

Those good reasons include new play commissions and awesome clients.

SPEAKING OF—I’ve got 3-4 slots open for new clients! And Cannon Story Company has given me a new way to offer more cohesive and inclusive storycoaching packages.

You can check out the updated website HERE and the coaching packages HERE.

If you’re not sure a storycoaching package is right for what you’re up to, never fear, you can still sign up for a free 30-min consultation (info available on the website), and I’ll give you the best advice I can. If we end up working together, awesome. If not, also awesome—as long as you still get out there and tell your story!!

Thank you for jumping, falling, and gliding with me.

BOOK EVENT

Thursday, October 23, at 5pm, join me and seven amazing first-time memoirists at the Senior Friendship Center for the next installment of the Joyful Journeys Author Series!

The flyer below has all the info, and a QR code you can scan to reserve a spot, or just mash the purple button and it’ll take you to the sign-up page.

Mash me!

I’ll be there hosting and selling copies of this memoir anthology, along with my own books.

Quick reminder that you are welcome to comment on this newsletter. I do my absolute best to respond to every comment, so if something I’ve offered above tickles that question/comment/complaint nerve in your reader-brain, I’d love to hear about it.

And if there’s a storytelling topic or issue you’d like me to address—writing, acting, directing, speaking, whatever—email me directly at jason@jasoncannon.art. If I don’t have a ready answer, I’ll make it my mission to go find one.

Thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “Cliff Jumper” Cannon

Last weekend I was out in the middle of Old Florida at Westgate River Ranch. It’s both a resort and a working cattle ranch. Rodeos. Haunted stables. And a newly finished water park, which honestly felt pretty out of place.

When I did my half-marathon training run Sunday morning (gotta love ten-milers!), I started so early it was pitch black. I ran on the access road that led from the highway to the resort proper, and the streetlights were spaced far apart. In those gaps between lights, I may as well have been on a treadmill. A dark vacuum. I had no sense of moving forward.

I did, however, have a sense of… Dude. Is this smart? Are there bears or coyotes tracking me right now??

I didn’t haul my Subaru Outback and Hoka sneakers all the way out there simply to run and avoid the line dancing. I was there as a coach for Own Every Room, an intensive storytelling workshop.

(The next Own Every Room will be in early March. As soon as registration opens, I’ll let y’all know!)

We had over 30 nervous, eager students joining. While Monty and Stacey handled logistics and kept us focused and on time, our coaching team—Michael, Doc, and myself, led by the incomparable Scott Mann—got down to work.

We dug deep. We invited every student to share a story, and not just any story, but a scar story, or a story about leaving tracks and legacy. Stories of loss. Stories of recovery. Stories of joy and family and discovery and forging meaning from the chaos of lived experience.

Scott set us up, led us through big ideas and purpose. Michael offered brilliant ideas about structural integrity and the messy, under-the-hood logistics of crafting narrative. Doc held a sacred space for everyone’s emotions, which gurgled and burbled and splattered and steamed. I focused on sensory detail and the instrument—warming up body and voice, getting the story from the teller’s lips to the listener’s ear.

We got below the damn water line, to that place where all humans are… HUMAN.

That’s the power of stories. They cut through the noise. They swim beneath the churn. They bypass beliefs and biases and assumptions and resistance. In a world hell-bent on dividing us, stories offer connection.

Stories are not “facts.” They are truer than facts, as long as the teller operates in good faith: always in service of the listener, never in service of an ideology or a “sale.”

Because these are true stories, I bring a lot of my memoir work into these events. Here’s the thing… memory is fallible. Memory isn’t literal. Memory is aroma.

Memory is also inherently limited by a singular point of view. How could one person’s recollection possibly be the whole “truth”?

There is humility and grace in telling stories. There is vulnerability. As we sat around firepits on Saturday night, bellies full of barbecue, idly waving away humid-heavy mosquitoes, we told stories.

It sounds so simple.

The most transformative things in our lives usually are.

BOOK EVENT

Ibis Books author DAN LANDON will be appearing at the South Bradenton Library (6081 26^th St. W.) next week on Tuesday, October 7, from 3-4pm.

This event is free and you can hear a few of Dan’s stories (and he has a TON of stories!) about his many years working on Broadway as a theater manager.

If you just can’t wait to start reading (he’ll be selling paperback copies at the event), you can check out the ebook and print-on-demand paperback over at the Ibis Bookshop.

The Page&Stage Podcast

Good news / bad news!

Good news—I have landed multiple commissions and am neck-deep in rehearsals for world premiere shows. Thus the production flywheel of my two podcasts has slowed down.

I’ll be getting them out to you as able, but will also be doing some archive-dives in the meantime.

Speaking of! Check out this cut from Season 1, when I interviewed my fellow storycoach Michael Davis. Yes, the same. Michael Davis I raved about earlier in this newsletter.

Michael Davis, a renowned speaking coach, shares his compelling journey from being a child scared of public speaking to a well-seasoned speaker. A discouraging incident in first grade left him wary of audiences for decades. Then Michael found Toastmasters, which dramatically shifted his perspective and skillset, paving the path for his coaching career. This episode explores the power of storytelling and communication, as well as how personal experiences and even pets can enrich one’s journey in life.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify

Quick reminder that you are welcome to comment on this newsletter. I do my absolute best to respond to every comment, so if something I’ve offered above tickles that question/comment/complaint nerve in your reader-brain, I’d love to hear about it.

And if there’s a storytelling topic or issue you’d like me to address—writing, acting, directing, speaking, whatever—email me directly at jason@jasoncannon.art. If I don’t have a ready answer, I’ll make it my mission to go find one.

Thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “I took all the peanut M&Ms home to Rebecca” Cannon

Last week I talked about the power of routine. And about how your routine can adapt and evolve as needed to serve you. To springboard you.

This week… ho boy. My routine got SHREDDED.

All for good reasons. I started rehearsals for 11 DAYS, the incredible one-man show that’s gonna have its world premiere in December. And rehearsals are 50ish miles away, up notoriously fickle I-75.

Plus we did our first public reading of the script at Team House Tampa.

Plus we toured the venue we’ll be using in Ybor City.

Plus I’m hitting the road later today to coach at a storytelling workshop all weekend.

Sooooo all my normal start and end times for pretty much everything got blown up big-time.

That’s ok. A new routine will emerge as long as I keep showing up.

But for today, since my regularly scheduled newsletter ponder-draft-edit routine got walloped, I’m sharing a post from one of my favorite fellow Substackers, Austin Kleon. He has a lot of super cool stuff to say about routine. I’ve read and re-read this particular post half a dozen times over the last few weeks. He’s also published several terrific books on art and creativity. Start with STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST and go from there.

Austin Kleon

“Your routine sounds exhausting!”

Hey y’all…

Read more

8 months ago · 129 likes · 90 comments · Austin Kleon

The Page&Stage Podcast

Inspirational speaker, memoirist, and igniter of dreams Risa August shares her incredible journey from being a successful athlete to facing a life-altering diagnosis of a brain tumor. She discusses her experiences with Ironman competitions, the challenges of her diagnosis, and the transformative bike ride from Canada to Mexico that followed. Risa also delves into her writing process, the importance of storytelling, and her exploration of Gestalt therapy. Throughout the conversation, she emphasizes the power of resilience, authenticity, and the lessons learned from her experiences.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

Quick reminder that you are welcome to comment on this newsletter. I do my absolute best to respond to every comment, so if something I’ve offered above tickles that question/comment/complaint nerve in your reader-brain, I’d love to hear about it.

And if there’s a storytelling topic or issue you’d like me to address—writing, acting, directing, speaking, whatever—email me directly at jason@jasoncannon.art. If I don’t have a ready answer, I’ll make it my mission to go find one.

Thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “I-75er” Cannon

Inspirational speaker, memoirist, and igniter of dreams Risa August shares her incredible journey from being a successful athlete to facing a life-altering diagnosis of a brain tumor. She discusses her experiences with Ironman competitions, the challenges of her diagnosis, and the transformative bike ride from Canada to Mexico that followed. Risa also delves into her writing process, the importance of storytelling, and her exploration of Gestalt therapy. Throughout the conversation, she emphasizes the power of resilience, authenticity, and the lessons learned from her experiences.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

Guest’s Links

Visit Risa’s website: RisaAugust.com

Buy Risa’s book: The Road Unpaved

Guest’s Bio

Award-winning author, Speaker, Gestalt Practitioner, and Patient Advocate, Risa August has been living with a pituitary tumor and rare disease for over a decade. Risa shares her insights and perspectives on stage, offering words of inspiration to audiences. Additionally, Risa works one-on-one with clients, guiding them through the many roadblocks of life and toward living more fully inspired.

A girl with sparkles in her hair and once an Ironman athlete, Risa still has a passion for her bike and barbells. With her genuine curiosity and love for trying new (and old) things, you may find Risa taking Bollywood or Hip-Hop dance lessons, trying a silks aerialist or boxing class, going indoor skydiving, and guiding inspirational workshops in creativity.

Through her personal transformation, Risa has learned and practiced removing limiting beliefs, shifting her perspective, and embracing an expansive life…a life unleashed.

If you enjoy or find value in this podcast, I’d like to ask you a quick favor.

Leaving a short review or comment helps me out a ton. It tells the algorithmic overlords that people are listening, and it helps other folks discover the show.

So if you can post a review—just click the purple button below to open Apple Podcasts and scroll down to Ratings and Reviews—or leave a comment on this episode here on Substack or over on YouTube, wherever you happen to be listening or watching, I would be incredibly grateful.

I'm happy to leave a review!

I use an incredible online app, Riverside.fm, to produce this podcast.

If you’re interested in producing your own podcast, creating other audio or video content, or hosting a livestream, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Here’s a link so you can check ‘em out! (Full disclosure, this is an affiliate link, but I wouldn’t put it here if I didn’t believe in and use Riverside.fm myself!)

Check out Riverside.fm

A quick shout out to Ievgen Poltavskyi from Pixabay for the musical underscoring!