Story Talk: Michele and Diane

Michele Carlo: Hi, Diane. My first question is something easy: How long have you been a storyteller?

Diane Ivey: I just started this year! I’m 24, and I seem to always be the baby of the group. But I think we need more young people, and when I did Mortified DC for the second time (last fall; SM Shrake was in it too, that’s how I got involved with Story League) I got a really positive crowd response because there were a lot of girls from my generation who also grew up with Britney Spears and butterfly clips. For a reference point: I was 13 in 2001, so I might be too young for the “nostalgia” shows, but I believe adolescent awkwardness transcends time.

MC: I’m doing Mortified for the first time this fall—and the stuff I’m reading is from the 1970s—so I’ll probably be “the lady of a certain age” in that crowd—haha!

DI: Let’s talk shop. For a show like this one, the one we’re in together (Encore, Encore!), do you write your stories out first or do you tell them straight out of your head?

MC: I’ve done both. When I first started telling stories I’d write them down and memorize them—and then freak out—sometimes quite visibly on stage—if I forgot or transposed something. [EDITOR’S NOTE: This is why you should never memorize your story!] Then I finally realized, hey, this is my story, not a monologue from ”that Scottish play” so I can’t “go off my lines,” I know my story. Once I realized that, it got a lot easier and I started composing things in my head. I always write them down eventually though. That’s how I got my book Fish Out Of Agua.

DI: I know you are adapting your book into a show. What is the biggest challenge when turning written material into a live show?

MC: Definitely the writing style! I actually have two versions of many of my stories: one I do for “readings” and the other I do in “storytelling” situations. I’ve found that when writing for a book (or any printed matter), I use more detail and description, plus I can use the full extent of my vocabulary (it’s said that our “reading” vocabularies contain three times as many words—or more—as our “listening/speaking” vocabularies). Because what sounds easy and breezy, when listened to, will seem incomplete when read on a page—and too much exposition or certain word choices in a told story can make it sound overworked or stilted.

The other challenge when adapting a written work for a performance is deciding which one particular story to explore. In a 300-page book you can easily have multiple story arcs smoothly converge into one (well, maybe not easily but it can be done). But for an hour-long show, you need to pick the arc you think is most compelling.

DI: How do you prepare for a performance?

MC: If there’s a time limit, I’ll run through the piece several times with a timer (I have an old, beat-up cooking timer that belonged to my grandmother that for some reason I like to use if I’m at home). I always try to go slightly under time… ’cause it’s live, you know… and anything can happen! How about you?

DI: Sometimes I write everything down, and sometimes I just use a scribbled outline. Most often, I start a document on Google Docs and I make note of the order of events, specific jokes I want to include, and feedback from workshops or coaching sessions. I like Google Docs because I also have the app on my phone, so it’s always with me in case I think of something new. My best ideas usually occur mid-commute on the bus or Metro.

So, related topic: in our Story League workshops, we’ve talked about “willful forgetting,” which is when you subconsciously leave out a section of your story. When performing a timed story, have you ever lost a chunk of it in the final performance? Did it make your story better or worse?

MC: Ha! Some people might say that nothing is subconscious and that if you leave something out you really didn’t need it. But not only have I forgotten a chunk of story, I’ve transposed events and even added stuff that wasn’t in originally. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn’t. That’s how the story crumbles… uh.. flows… uh… goes.

DI: What is your stage fright level?

MC: I’m generally fine until five minutes before I’m to go on… but then I go into what I call “the lightning zone,” where I can literally feel electricity (caused by adrenaline, I’m sure) running through my body. The hairs on my arms stand up, my insides churn and I’ve sworn that if you stuck a light bulb in my mouth, it’d glow! All joking aside, over the years, I’ve learned to channel that energy and give it back to the audience. In other words, once I start speaking, all nerves are gone and I’m able to enjoy myself. You?

DI: I don’t get particularly nervous unless the story involves someone who might actually be in the audience. I recently told a story about my ridiculous antics toward a former crush, and knowing that guy might see the video on YouTube? Terrifying. But definitely worth it.

Another subject: Do you think stand-ups can be good storytellers?

MC: Absolutely. Tom Shillue, Liam McEneany, Ophira Eisenberg and Irene Bremis are four who immediately come to mind. But even their stand-up seems to me to be more story-oriented. It’s hard to explain, but if you’ve seen any of them perform both, you’ll know exactly what I mean.

DI: Interesting. I see the two genres as the difference between setting up a tent and building a house. In stand-up, you want to get to the point as quickly as you can, and like building a tent, you want a temporary structure. In storytelling, you’re building a house. The audience wants more detail and foundation before they can really feel at home. They have to know and trust you before they can laugh.

MC: So, do you have any storytelling idols?

DI: David Sedaris, Elna Baker, and Tina Fey. I’m currently in love with the champions of awkwardness: Issa Rae of “The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl,” as well as British actress/writer/stand-up Miranda Hart. And of course, my best friend Sara, whose childhood adventures blow my middle-class Midwestern upbringing out of the water.

MC: Final question from me: What do you think is the number-one component that makes a story great?

DI: Being relatable is the number-one thing for me. When I’m watching performances, I have to find the relatable part of the story, the part where I really connect with the storyteller’s feelings. I think the most powerful response you can get from an audience is “me too.” If you can get that, you’re golden.

MC: For me, the best stories are not just one note. They’re about the “thing” and then they take a turn and are really about “the other thing.” Do you know what I mean? You think you know how the story is going to turn out and then it takes you to a whole other place. Your investment in what you’re telling is also very important. If your story doesn’t mean anything to you, it’s not going to mean anything to anyone else.

DI: Now my final question! Where do you see the storytelling scene going next?

MC: Drive-in storytelling! Storytelling on ice! Stories in space! Oh wait, they grounded the space shuttle, didn’t they? Well, there’s already shows based on who is telling the truth and who isn’t (The LIAR Show); music (Soundtrack Series); music and burlesque (BTK); art (Drawn Out Storytelling); science (The Story Collider); telling something you hadn’t thought you ever could (Risk!); and I even did a show with only native New Yorkers (It Came From New York), so I think it’s safe to say that there will be as many twists on storytelling as there are people who can think of them. Here’s hoping we both get booked to do them all!