My wife and I attended The Moth storytelling series last week in Berkeley at the awesome Freight and Salvage venue. If you are not familiar with The Moth, they help people connect with their own power as a storyteller, and with one another (that’s from their website).
Basically, they have a bunch of people prepare five-minute stories to share in front of an audience around a particular theme, put each person’s name into a hat or bowl or whatever, and then randomly select ten people to come up on stage throughout the night. And then they select three jerks to judge each person on their story and performance (my wife and I were judges last week).
Though only one person struck me as a possible professional speaker, most people seemed like they had definitely been up on stage before and were relatively comfortable presenting a story in front of an audience. The guy next to me though…oh man. Just speaking with him one-on-one was a bit awkward given how nervous and fidgety he seemed. When he told me that he frequently attended Moth events and usually went up and spoke, I was floored. This guy? Seriously?
While my friend was not randomly selected to tell his five-minute story, he was allowed to share with the audience the first line or two he would have told, as was everyone else who was not selected. It was something like, “I decided I wanted to do comedy so I entered a comedy competition. The good news was that I got in. That bad news was that during my set, everyone threw plastic cups at me.”
I mean…that’s a little sad, but also pretty hilarious and brave. This guy is nervous and awkward, but he decided he wanted to learn how to be funny and overcome his fear of presenting (he also shared with me that he is a regular attendee of Toastmasters). Most people would just accept that comedy and speaking are just not for them and watch their dreams pass by them. Now, is this guy going to end up on The Late Show or AGT? Probably not, but you never know! If he embraces his awkwardness, people may find him really endearing and root for him. But that’s not really the point.
His story made me think back to something my improv teachers said during my improv 101 class back in the spring: “You’re up there and that’s all that matters, really.” He was up on stage, doing something he has always wanted to do, and was dancing with his fears every step of the way, plastic cups be damned. Good for you, friend. Good for you.