Hi writer friend,
Last week I filed into a packed auditorium with lines of fellow humans, found my assigned seat in a very uncomfortable chair, realized I was thirsty but couldn’t escape after six people sat between me and the aisle, and then completely forgot about all of that while listening to writers read and perform their stories.
Pop-up Magazine is a live show in which writers share their work, accompanied by projected images, lights, recordings, performance, and music. A friend had an extra ticket, and I didn’t really know what to expect.
It was wonderful. The stories made me laugh and cry and wonder about things I hadn’t wondered about much before. It was a reminder of the significance of witnessing people doing work you admire. (In person!) And it got me thinking about the layers of sharing that are possible when we have a really good story to share—and the thrill of bringing those stories to life.
Now, I’m someone whose skin tingles with cold sweat at the mere mention of “presenting.” I spent most of grad school looking for ways to avoid reading my work out loud, and I have an impressive ability to change colors if too many people look at me—or if one person looks at me with too focused a gaze.
My stage fright probably deserves it’s own separate discussion (maybe with a professional) but let’s put that aside for now.
Despite hating everything about the thought of publicly presenting my own work, witnessing other writers do so was such a satisfying rush. The lights, the music, the characters brought to life through audio and visual recordings. It reminded me that stories are almost always layers of sensory experiences, designed by the writer—with words. And how cool is that? We usually have to rely on our words laid out in print or on screens, with maybe a photo or illustration to accompany them. But even with just our words, written and silent on the page, we can render the specific lilt of a voice, the energy of a song, the intermittent glow of fireflies on an otherwise dark summer night. The best storytelling presents the story as a sensory experience, even without all of the other media that brought these ones to life on stage.
So while I’m in no rush to apply for the next season of Pop-up Magazine, I’m in awe of those who performed—and I’m thinking more about how I layer my own stories with sensory details, even when they’re stuck in 2-D. I’m thinking about how stories can come to life, with sounds and lights or with our ability to describe those things.
What story of yours (one you’ve written already or one you’ve just thought about) would you want to present in a multi-media experience? It’s fun to think about and maybe even run with. Also, how might you engage more senses, the next time you’re putting words down on a page?
Perhaps I should write about stage fright? It’s kinda fun (and terrible) to think about how I could turn my nerves into a shareable sensory experience—the buzzing sound of panic, the cold tickle of nerves on my skin, and the crescendo of music that builds and fades when I occasionally face my fear and triumph by not melting into a human puddle—to share with others. I’ll keep mulling that one over…
For now, it’s time for the good stuff!
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