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If you are a fan of The Moth, then you understand why I’m so excited about a possible new project: Podcasting stories of the Northstar Storytelling League, the Twin Cites-based group from the land famous for storytellers, the group that features legends such as Loren Niemi and Joan Calof, Allega Lingo and Joseph Scrimshaw. The group has native Midwesterners such as slam-mistress Allison Broeren or transplants like myself (from the south) and others from Los Angeles or New York. (Only with the storytellers’ permission and coöperation, of course. We’re not into piracy.)
This idea grew out of the planning for Northstar’s 2011 Tellabration! event in November. (If you’re making Thanksgiving travel plans, be sure to get back to the cities by Friday night for the evening concert.) I am organizing the open mics. A regular podcast could fit in quite nicely with the Tellabration! open mics. Maybe the open mic performances themselves could be podcast?
What do you think?
As either a Northstar member or any other storyteller and performer, or as a potential audience member, do you see value in having a, say, monthly storytelling podcast? If so:
- Do you prefer audio or video?
- How or when would you listen? (While exercising? At work? Instead of broadcast TV?)
- What devices do you use? iPod? PC? MP3 player? Android?
- How long should episodes run? One story under 10 minutes per episode? Or an hour-long monthly format?
Keep in mind that this is simply an early discussion item that I brought up at yesterday’s planning meeting. It might or might not happen, and if it comes out it will be far better than anything I can envision today, because your comments will mold it into something better than any of us could do on our own.
Thanks to all of your great responses to my latest story about Candy Cornbread, the pen name and literary heroine of the 75-year-old alcoholic nun who secretly publishes redneck vampire nun erotica. People seem to like her, and I love her positive message for women. For those of you who haven’t heard or read the story, I will tell it in my Minnesota Fringe Festival storytelling show August 4-14, and it will be in my upcoming ebook, Pecan Pie, Cigars, and the One and Only Secret to Happiness.
Because of these responses, Candy Cornbread is going to get her own full-length novel. You will be able to read about how Sister Emily, Sister Caroline, and blend their own unique backgrounds to continue the Candy Cornbread stories, to save St. Marlene’s Abbey from being closed by the bishop, and to inspire women (and men) to seek continuous improvement in their lives.
The bad news? I can’t begin this until after the Fringe show.
Hey, y’all need to see this! New video posted, excerpted from a speech about ebooks, the classics, and how those classics might have looked . . . if they had been written during the Internet Age.
“This sauce is extreme hot,” she said, rolling her “r”s in her beautiful East African accent, “and this over here is only some hot. We call it ‘Minnesota hot.'” Every farmers market has vendors selling hot sauce. There’s nothing interesting in that. But when the vendor comes from East Africa, is wearing an orange-and-yellow dress and a turquoise headwrap, and has seen war, drought, famine, and prosperity on her way to Minnesota … well, that’s interesting.
“What makes your hot sauce unique?” I asked “Ayan.”
Hey, y’all need to go to this! The first Tuesday in June, at Kieran’s Irish Pub in downtown Minneapolis, is the next installment in the SlamMN! story slam series. Come listen to my story, “How Candy Cornbread Survived the Rapture,” and help me decide whether to include this story in my upcoming Minnesota Fringe Festival show, “The Magnificent Story of St. Marlene’s Marvelous Moonshine (Made by Monks).”
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org for more information, or look at my upcoming performance schedule.
Can you believe this whole Ohio State/Jim Tressel situation? In the Big Ten, they arrange for cars to be bought for the players? Really?!
This never would have happened in the SEC. We pay our players enough to buy their own damn cars.