Lessons my mom taught me
Storytelling stuff worth sharing
If any of you live up near St. Cloud, Minnesota, have I got some cool news for you!
LAST OUT: Elegy of a Green Beret is coming to Pioneer Place on Fifth for three performances, May 1-3!
I’ll be up north with the cast and team, presenting this impactful play and offering honor and healing to as many veterans, first-responders, and their families as possible.
Civilians welcome, too! Without clear understanding, there can be no moving forward.
Learn more and get your tickets by clicking the purple button below—
Storytelling tip o’ the week
Something I’ve been chewing on recently…
Just because you don’t like something doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad.
Just because a particular story—book, movie, TV show, play, song, painting, whatever—isn’t your taste? Your opinion doesn’t also then automatically mean it’s poorly done or unartistically done. Those are two entirely different units of measurement.
Even if you would never listen to it or watch it or read it again, that doesn’t immediately mean that it’s “bad.”
You can learn from anything.
Example. I loathe—and I do not wield that word lightly—Love Actually. I won’t get into why I loathe it (happy to debate in the comments or offline!), but yeah. I cannot wrap my mind around how so many people hold that film so dear.
But there are still two ways I can make the two hours I wasted watching that movie mean something.
I can ask myself: What elements here are being utilized effectively? Because clearly it is hitting the dopamine buttons and pulling the heartstrings for lots of other people.
And secondly, I can consider the aspects of the story I find repulsive, and make sure I’m putting my money where my mouth is: Do those aspects apply to anything I’m creating? If so, am I doing those things intentionally or thoughtlessly?
There’s gold in them thar hills.
When we elevate our personal taste (opinion) above the study of the craft, we miss out on so so much.
Part of developing a craft is learning to meet each storyteller where they are. I wouldn't hold a community theatre production to the same standards as a professional production, but I can still have an enjoyable experience.
Example. My mom is a brilliant singer. I was suuuuper lucky to grow up watching her give concerts at churches all over the place. I learned so much from her: how to be grounded, how to be authentic, how to stay humble, how to connect with a room, how to put the lyrics and story on TOP of the music instead of just blowing our hair back with a high C. (What good is a high C, after all, if it’s not communicating an emotional point of view?) Ultimately, how to use her art in service of her larger mission.
One particular Sunday we were visiting another church, and during the offering a pre-teen girl got up to sing. By any objective standard, she was just ok. Nervous, sure, but she obviously loved to sing, she had obviously practiced, she was just young. If she kept at it, she could be really good down the road. At that moment, though, no judge from “The Voice” was gonna turn their seat around.
But when I glanced over at my mom, she was BEAMING at this young singer. Just the hugest smile. Encouragement vibrated off her like she was a huge gong that had been struck with a giant mallet. The generosity of her artistic spirit walloped me.
Technique can be learned. Passion and courage, though? You gotta cultivate those inside. Sharing passion and courage? Offering yourself to a fellow storyteller you’ve never met? That’s the true measure of putting craft over taste.
Because here’s the thing—you want that grace from the other side, right?
There’s gonna be tons of people out there who don’t want to read or watch my stuff. I may not be their taste and I have to be ok with that, even though I’ve honed my technique (time invested!), elevated my raw talent into honed skill, and use that skill to make a living transforming raw emotional expression into effective art. Even then, once I put something out there, we can still have a good faith debate about whether it’s “good.”
Maybe this also comes from my years of being subjected to reviews on my acting and directing, but I have to be ok with accepting that my opinion doesn’t equal the same as a final judgement on whether something is worthwhile for someone else.
And there’s a whole other rabbit hole we could go down in terms of “informed opinions” and expertise and inspiration and “taste-makers” (ugh) and opinions-are-like-a##holes-everybody’s-got-one, etc etc etc.
So let me just say this: even if your story isn’t one that I would necessarily read or listen to over and over… I still can’t wait to hear it.
100 Plays
A reminder to check out the first episode of my new podcast 100 Plays: Lessons Learned Telling Stories from the Stage!
In this episode, I talk about creating your own opportunities, giving the one perfect surgical note, and why slicing your hand on a liquor bottle is never good theater.
You can listen on the Substack App, Apple, or Spotify.
Or you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.
The Page&Stage Podcast
Dropping in your inboxes next Monday…
In this episode, I explore the multifaceted life of Rebecca Gummere, an award-winning author and former pastor. From her early days in a corporate family's ever-changing landscape to the profound personal losses that shaped her faith journey, Rebecca shares how her pursuit of meaning and wonder ultimately guided her to writing. Inspiring and deeply human, Rebecca's tale underscores themes of grief, spirituality, and creativity, offering listeners an intimate understanding of her search for divine mystery and narrative expression.
You’ll be able to listen on the Substack App, and all episodes will also be available on Apple or Spotify.
Or you’ll be able to watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.
One last note—I have now enabled comments for EVERYONE, whether you are a paid or free subscriber. I’ll get into more detail about other various updates next week, but every public post—podcast or newsletter—is now ready to receive your comments and questions directly on the post itself. Don’t be bashful!
Thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—
Jason “Seriously, Love Actually is the WORST” Cannon