By Matt Nadelhaft
Performing at spoken word and storytelling events can be daunting. There’s a lot to get over and remember. Stifle those nerves (have a drink… but don’t get drunk, God no). Is your fly undone? Watch out for flying fruit! Never, ever, throw up on stage. Try not to burst into flames. Avoid religion and politics. Remember, you are most probably being videotaped by the United States Department of Homeland Security. Anything you say may be used as an excuse to prevent you from vacationing in the US.
And oh yes – there’s also your story. If there’s one thing more important than making sure you don’t have toilet paper clinging to your shoe, it’s getting your story right. Which means more than having a good story: it means having a good story for reading out loud. Not every story works well as a performance piece; not even every good story. You’ve read “Flowers for Algernon,” right? Brilliant story, but try to imagine it read aloud. Try to imagine reading it out loud. It won’t work, and not just because it would take all night.
Creating a good story for reading requires its own set of techniques. Obviously, the story can’t depend on tricky layout and typography. Block quotes, diary entries and footnotes aren’t likely to work. Puns in foreign languages probably won’t go over very well, either. Dialogue is great, as long as the audience can keep track of who is speaking, and as long as nobody talks like an Umberto Eco character. Funny is good, but don’t feel you need to write a comedy routine. Spoken word doesn’t have to be stand-up comedy; just because the audience laughs like mad at one story doesn’t mean they don’t silently love another, more sombre piece. Jokes will entertain, but they aren’t very memorable when not part of an interesting plot.
After you’ve written your story, or when modifying an older story for performance, there are several editorial techniques you can use to give your story the best chance of shining at a spoken word event. The most important technique is the most obvious one. Practice it. Read it out loud to yourself. Read it out loud to friends. Ask for their reactions. Everybody laughs at their own jokes, but did your guinea pigs? If you were trying to scare the audience, find out in advance if it worked. Know the words you wrote; you’re less likely to trip over them. Get a feel for when you want to modulate your voice, volume and pace. Is the story too long? Don’t tell yourself “I’ll read faster!” No, seriously. Don’t. Cut. Cut like a gardener with an anger- management problem.
In particular, cut out your prize-winning prose. Those images and meditations that would make J.G. Ballard envious aren’t going to work as well in the read-aloud format: your audience doesn’t have time to savour a great turn of phrase; they can’t go back and reread a particularly gorgeous description. And they don’t have the ability to untangle long and complicated sentences; the last thing you want is for somebody to be puzzling over what you just read while you’re moving on to the next bit. Pacing is more important than poetics. Don’t fret: remember, this is just the performance version of your story. The one you give to friends and family, the one you send out for publication – that one can have all your best imagery. Although you may find – not necessarily, but just possibly – you prefer the leaner version you’ve created for the reading.
And then soak up the applause. But remember: no encores.
