Last week, I presented a storytelling entertainment for the general meeting of my church women’s group. I am not really sure why the program chairperson thought that random storytelling should be on the program for this kind of meeting or why I was the person asked to provide said storytelling. When our program-scheduling chairperson asked me to do this last June, I debated with myself, but ultimately agreed. I kept telling myself, “You don’t have to worry about it- it isn’t happening until next May.” I told myself that for eleven months. I stopped saying it only because “next May” was suddenly in two weeks.
Despite my apparent procrastination, my brain did mull over the project regularly in the eleven months during which I was in conscious denial. The first and most critical decision I had to make was what story I wanted to tell. Something in me really wanted to tell a particular story, Next to Nieveaux. I wrote Next to Nieveaux a couple of years ago, at the suggestion of my life coach. There is a lot of history behind this story, so part of me felt squeamish about sharing it. Although it is fairy tale and is certainly fantasy, it is MY story in many ways. While very few people would recognize my life episodes behind the veil of the story’s plot development or understand the “inside jokes” (“inside” meaning “inside my own little world,) the idea of telling the story left me feeling very vulnerable and exposed. Something in me, however, could not quite retreat from the idea. I decided to lead with the weakest part of me and let Princess Picclopena of Nieveaux make her public debut.
The next hurdle I faced was that my original story was, depending on your viewpoint and generosity of spirit, either incredibly rich and intricate or incredibly wordy and tedious. Frankly, the short story was more like a novella. Now, I am not always generous in spirit towards myself, but I have to say that I saw the story as incredibly rich and intricate. That made cutting it down to a digestible smidgeon of narrative suitable for a verbal retelling in the context of the final Episcopal Church Women meeting of the season much more difficult. I liked it all. I couldn’t decide what to excise. After numerous fits and starts at editing, I finally took a step back. I decided which of the several key themes I most wanted to communicate. I ruthlessly released charming sub-plots and witty character-developing repasts. I wrote down four or five episodes that had to happen for the story to present the key theme in a sensical manner. Then, I let myself go. I stopped writing stuff down. I stopped editing. I stopped obsessing over some random time constraint I had in my head. I told myself the story a few times during the week before the presentation, just to get a feel for the flow and rhythm. Then, I trusted I understood my story well enough to be able to tell it just from what I knew without needing more structure. After a, Next to Nieveaux is my story in the sense that I wrote it and it is my story in the sense that I have lived some version of it.
The day of the storytelling, I just started talking- telling the story and reading the audience. They seemed to absolutely be coming along for the journey with me. As it turned out, I did not have to worry about time. I spoke for a little over 20 minutes and the audience seemed engaged and willing to keep listening. Instead of mourning the richness I left out, I actually kinda enjoyed having so many random “inside joke” Easter eggs that no one would understand except me. I found out that I like being a woman of mystery.
Now that the event is over, I have been thinking about sharing the original Next to Nieveaux story in all its questionable glory. I could do that by serializing the full-length version over several weeks on this blog. What do you think? Is that something that would interest you? What are your thoughts? Please send me a sign from cyberspace!
Have a fantasty-istic day!
Terri/Dorry 😊
So what’s the verdict? Would you like to read the unvarnished and unabridged truth about the trials and tribulations of Princess Picclopena of Nieveaux? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, please email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.