A cathartic experience I will never do again ...
In her quest to find out how to tell a better story, reporter Zoe McKnight faces public speaking fears
Even being in the audience causes me heart palpitations.
Marsha Shandur, founder of the event True Stories Told Live asks us to keep quiet, “because people are opening themselves up in public.” This sounds entirely gruesome.
I’ve been asked to participate in one of those storytelling nights so popular in Toronto. I would rather not.
But I find myself signing up to self-immolate in front of a crowd in March. Held monthly at the Garrison, a bar and music venue on Dundas St.W., True Stories Told Live is booked into 2017.
The Moth, a hugely popular New York City-based storytelling series, uses the catchphrase “true stories told live.” These are the basic rules: the stories must be true, personal and told without notes.
I have exactly two fears in life. One of them is public speaking, which — although hardly exotic — can be crippling. Being the centre of attention is not my thing.
The second fear is known as blood-injection-injury phobia, which often induces fainting. That usually causes a scene.
I agreed to tell a capacity crowd about the moment my anxieties coalesced: on a plane over the Atlantic Ocean, I watched 127 Hours, a movie I knew ended in a guy cutting off his own arm. Maybe I thought I was facing my fears. I blacked out.
I met with Shandur, the show’s host and professional story coach, in a café in February to go over the story. She insists on this to ensure the tales are more compelling than that time you got lost while drunk in a foreign city.
Something must be at stake to make the listener care. Shandur asked me a zillion questions, digging for potential threads we could pull along and little details we could “drop like seeds,” letting them grow in front of the audience.
Having someone listen to me intently for a couple of hours made me feel kind of high and emboldened.
Maybe it was just the caffeine because the feeling faded as the end of March drew closer and I accepted I would have to face 200 strangers in a bar, a much scarier prospect than a dim coffee shop.
Public speaking is one of the most common phobias, says celebrity publicist Steve Rohr who co-authored the recently-released book Scared Speechless: 9 Ways to Overcome Your Fears and Captivate Your Audience.
“Public speaking is the great equalizer,” says Rohr, who has coached everyone from college students to Hollywood actors. People sabotage themselves with negative self-talk or put off practicing, which confirms their fears of being a terrible speaker, he says. Stopping that pattern will make you feel more in control. Everyone I talked to about storytelling said they still get nervous. They just accept and overcome it.
I wasn’t sure I could actually do that. On the day of the event I still feared I would throw up or go completely blank. At the last minute I remembered to watch social psychologist Amy Cuddy’s TED Talk on the power of body language. Cuddy thinks you and her 32,672,440 other viewers can convince your minds you are confident using a series of two-minute postures, including the Wonder Woman pose, where you fake fierce with your hands on your hips.
I had also talked to Sage Tyrtle, who hosts her own series, High Stakes Storytelling. When she teaches storytelling at Seneca College and The Second City, she reminds students that audiences will naturally root for the person on stage.
“Believe in the goodwill in the room,” Tyrtle says. This became my mantra. I walked the five kilometres from work to the Garrison while listening to my own story over and over again on my iPhone. Once I arrived, I tried to slow my heart rate and believe in the goodwill in the room. I stood in the Wonder Woman pose for 45 minutes. Then it was my turn.
I made it through the longest eight minutes of my life. The audience laughed where they were supposed to laugh: the part where my face went numb because I hyperventilated and I couldn’t explain — because my mouth wasn’t working — to the flight attendant trying to give me an oxygen mask that I needed less oxygen, not more. The part where my seatmates understood enough English to give me a lecture on watching scary movies and turned it off. The part where everyone turned to stare.
Having a laugh track is like a hit of dopamine. After it was over, I was so relieved it felt like I had won the lottery. Many people become hooked after their first storytelling experience, Shandur says. Some find it cathartic. They’ve satisfied the basic human need to be seen and understood.
“When people in a room listen during the right bits and they laugh and gasp and are silent in the right bits, you think you’ve been truly heard.”
For me, once is likely enough when it comes to appearing in front of a live audience. But as I walked home after the show I concluded you actually can face certain fears in public and survive. I just wouldn’t recommend trying it on a plane.