Writing is a solitary activity, and like most writers, I have a strong reclusive instinct.
But I also thrill at the unexpected directions a project can take when others contribute their ideas, talent and life experience.
So when a local junior school teacher invited me to deliver a workshop on fractured fairy tales, I asked for a few volunteers to help me test drive Kiss!, my take on The Frog Prince.
“Let’s get a couple of Year 8 thesps to read the dialogue between the frog and the princess,” I suggested. “And after the story, maybe the drama teacher could help the kids create their own fairy tale-based skits.”
(If Miss B hadn’t cut me off there, I would have gone on to invite the senior string orchestra, the sewing club and the be-snorkled swim squad.)
And so, by fairy tale magic — or teacher savvy — my intrepid cast appeared on the appointed day, spot on time.
And magic is the only way to describe the experience, when talented actors ignite one’s painfully wrought text.
The princess flounced, the frog burped, and the drama teacher delivered a ferocious SQUAWK as the ravenous, frog-munching heron.
Most magical of all was the interaction of the actors and their bewitched audience. The Year 2s watched their elders with rapt attention punctuated by chortles.
While I had anticipated their delight at a state visit from the glamorous prefects, I hadn’t foreseen the nostalgic gusto with which the top-of-schoolers re-immersed themselves in primary school fun.
Relishing their temporary license to play, they stayed through the entire workshop, cheering on their diminutive team-mates in the froggy relay race, and improvising cameo appearances as Signor Evil Banana and Princess Meerkat for our role playing game.
From an author’s perspective, casting a storytelling session with guest stars is probably not always the way to go. With the buzz in the room, it would have been impossible to engage the class in a substantive discussion about characters and themes. In structuring an author visit, one must choose between the excitement of theatrics and a more reflective, intimate discussion of the story’s meat and meaning. There is a time and a place for each, depending on the text, and the objectives.
Both are important, so this is definitely an experiment to repeat.
The multi-generational gathering reminded me that storytelling is one of the most enduring powerful forms of community building we have.
Experiencing it in action will fuel me through another solitary stretch, drafting and revising the spells that trigger the magic.
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