Give it away
Tips, tricks, inspiration, and encouragement for storytellers of all stripes
Greetings from the East Village—
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!
If you can’t make the show, you can read the 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