Yesterday's class, as Idilio said, was a symphony of harmonious stories, different lives following the same score: of a journey of transformation, some with more obstacles to overcome than others ... This is the type of class that really gets me jazzed, when we get to instruct each other, and I'd like to tip my hat especially to two folks who demonstrated techniques especially useful to moi.
The sensory banquet Idilio spread for us describing his grandmother's shop was pure enchantment for me - I fell deep into the fragrances of the foods he described, and then the colors. I was intrigued to watch my mind's eye throw up a splash of color before I saw the actual item: bright green for the cilantro, red for the tomato, and the cheese did a switcheroo. First I saw a flash of yellow, then white, because my conscious mind said, nah, Mexican cheese is probably white, and then I saw a round white cheese. I adored the comparison of his grandmother to margarita bread, doughy and sweet. My imagination added the fragrance of yeasty bread rising, a perfume that screams "home" to me. Thank you, Idilio, not only for giving me a tour of your home, but also for showing me an effective way to draw listeners in to the story world.
Now, wasn't it Bill who wanted to know how Bill Lepp makes listeners forget something so he can remind them of it later? Well, I saw Chris do exactly that - I didn't exactly diagram his story, but here is what I saw.
He began the "orientation" by handing around his watch so we would all focus on it. Then he launched into a totally watch-less story. I mean, who would remember a watch when you're waiting to hear about a strip club murder trial? So Step 2 of Planned Forgetfulness seems to be to send listeners downstream on a fast moving river of story, filled with different details. Then Chris dropped Little Louie's watch comment into the diaglogue again,briefly, and made it disappear from our consciousness like Houdini, by taking us downriver again into the trial and the tension of his client's refusal to testify against his (undeserving) father multiple times, climaxing with the sentencing and the dramatic and frankly surprising, farewells. I didn't know lawyers hugged their clients, did you?
And then, he opened the surprise package: bringing the watch back "onstage" again at the end of the story. So if you want a story to conclude with the item you want listeners to forget for awhile, a formula for Planned Forgetfulness in a story could be Show -- distract with an emotional story -- dangle -- distract with more of your emotional story -- final showing.
Looking forward to more great moments on Monday.
You got it, Cat. In the opening moments of a story, the audience is collecting information of all kinds - and not yet insisting that it make sense. As we get distracted from moment to moment, the information gets set aside. "What does this have to do with that?" Etc... The art of distraction, like the magician's use of misdirection, makes the discourse more surprising. Does the storyteller dismember to remember?
ReplyDeletedistract (v.) mid-14c., "to draw asunder or apart, to turn aside" (literal and figurative), from Latin distractus, past participle of distrahere "draw in different directions," from dis- "away" (see dis-) + trahere "to draw" (see tract (n.1)).
Chris' story really hit me in that way, too, Cat! I was so excited at the end of the story when we learned of his coming to own the watch.....really joyful.
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