|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 7:17 pm
I had this huuuge long post but then I realized I was being overly moral-soapboxy and that it really wasn't needed here. So let me step off the soapbox and just tell my story. Well, two stories.
In the SCA, we have bards. I don't call myself a bard because I don't feel I've earned that title yet. But I tell stories. And on one occasion I was gathered at the bardic circle. We had all moved indoors because of the rain and it was quite crowded. I don't do well in crowds. When my turn to speak came I was having trouble organizing my thoughts and a nearby bard was impatient and snapped that I either needed to speak or pass to the next bard. This small bit of impatience caused me to panic, thinking I had just done something wrong, which was all my mind needed to snap into amnesia. I had to be led back to the camp in the rain by my friends, hysterical and crying because I no longer knew where I was or how I had gotten there. I sat next to a dying campfire for hours while my friends kept assuring me that I was safe and that my memory would come back, that it always did. I have encountered this bard in other instances, of sounder mind, and found this individual to be no more understanding of others than that night. To this bard, being right and doing things properly - whatever proper is - is what is most important. At least, that's how I read it.
The second thing I remember tonight is a boy who sat down at our bardic gathering at the last event I was. After listening a bit he decided he wanted to try and launched into a story I would consider typical for his age. Later his mother introduced him to me and said he enjoyed my stories and wanted to be like me someday. I could have said a lot of things about his ability to tell stories. I told him he had a wonderful imagination and that with practice, he could be a bard. If I had time, I probably could have given him a few gentle pointers. In fact, I hope that someday I can. Cause out of all the stories I heard that day his is one of the few I remember. I think it was his enthusiasm.
I think I've made my point. If not... *points at the Gaia writers forum* There. Point made.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 01, 2010 5:01 pm
I have mixed feelings on this.
The spoken tale is a much different art from crafting the written one. We can get away with things a speaking storyteller would get hanged for. But that aside, there is a time for being critical and 'perfect'. And there is a time for enjoying oneself and experimenting.
In this storyteller's opinion, the time to be critical and perfect is actually while practicing. While practicing we should aim higher than our best. By pushing our limits each and every day, we improve.
But when I'm in a group presenting my work among many others, I'm going to expect my practice to do ITS job of making sure I don't do something absolutely horrid, and experiment and try to get from a captive audience that excitement that only comes from doing something unexpected.
A performance should, to the performer, be run of the mill, unexciting, and honestly, a bit off the wall. We kill ourselves in practice to obtain a chance to do something for others that touch them in a new way.
This is why I'm critical when talking about critiques in general, even in this forum. I expect perfection. But once I read a novel, I'll forgive much of the things I tear to pieces in practice. And that's because, in the end, the ideas are as important as the words.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
Man-Hungry Conversationalist
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|