Interview with a Storyteller

A conversation with storyteller Michael Katz.

Jul 03, 2022

I grew up lying on the living room carpet listening to stories—some that my parents told me, some from books, and some from a radio show called Katz Pajamas, with storyteller Michael Katz.

Michael Katz, Storyteller — Storytelller Michael Katz taken from his website, storytellermichael.com

The show was very formative in my own understanding of stories and narrative, as were his performances and workshops at my elementary school and the public library. In all the conversations I have had recently about the changes to education since the internet and, most notably, the pandemic, I remembered Michael’s stories and wondered what he has done to make his interactive style of storytelling possible in the pandemic. I also had questions about what his definition of storytelling is, what the difference is between his stories and the kinds of stories we consume through the media and theater, and how he became a professional storyteller.

I recently had the opportunity to speak with Michael over Zoom about his style and practice of storytelling, as well as the techniques he uses for engaging his audiences and scaffolding (structuring a way for them to build) their relationships with the story, in person and remotely. We also discussed the path that led him to professional storytelling, and the difference between listening to a story and watching a performance in a theater. The interview has been condensed below.

How would you describe the type of storytelling that you do?

My storytelling is mostly drawn from folktales, and mostly for young people. For K through twelve, I would say, though occasionally I perform for adults.

What led you to professional storytelling, and what led you to do storytelling, drawing on folktales, for young people?

I knew I was going to be working with young people. That was always my design, my desire. And I'd gone to the University, was studying experimental psychology, graduated from UCSB and then took a break. A girlfriend I had at the time was into children's books, and so I had them on a coffee table random a friend of a friend of a friend happened to be at the house [and said], “do you like children's books?” I said yes. He said, “Would you like to take over my radio show?” And it was very out of nowhere. And I said, “what is it?” He said, “I read stories on the radio and I'm leaving town and it's at the University, at the University station. And I would like someone to take it over because if someone doesn't, then it'll be replaced with a music show. And I think I really would like to know that such a show stays on.” So I said, “When do I start?”

I decided to go [to the National Storytelling Festival]…And I saw this one storyteller, and he clearly wasn't somebody who learned the story sitting on a porch in the Appalachian Mountains. And I didn't like what he was doing at all. It was very stylized, very memorized, very theatrical. And I felt there was no connection with the audience. I felt it was like watching theater. Like, look at what I can do. And these other storytellers, it was just different. It was embodied. And I said, well, can I find some place in between? Can I find a place that is more connecting with the audience? I'm not the person who learned it on somebody's lap and were told within my culture.

And then I started looking for work, and then there's the business end of it. But my style just kind of got formed by going to the library, getting gigs…which required me to come up with new stories every week, weekly gigs. And so I would go to the library, go to the 398.2 section of a library, Dewey Decimal numbers, the folktale section, and I would just pull out books that were interesting. And I would create an outline of a story after reading it and then just wing it based on the outline.

My first memory of hearing you tell a story was in person, and recently I was talking to somebody about storytelling, and we ended up listening to your album “Far Away and Close to Home” on Spotify. I was thinking, this is such a different experience listening to this over the car speaker from Spotify than it was in the assembly room of my elementary school. So my question is, do you have a preference? And in light of the pandemic, do you think there are children missing out on things because all of the storytelling is happening in the recorded or live streamed way and not in the gather-in-person way?

Well, yes, there's a complete difference between all the medium. The one I like the least is video. My storytelling is very much about the together experience. That is it. And so when I started doing the virtual stuff, first to even be willing to do it, then to explore the medium, then to find ways to make it participatory or to get the audience to feel seen, because for me, it's storytelling is the fourth wall gone. My style is a very interactive style of storytelling, in that I'll do tons of forms of audience participation...and not ever calling anyone on stage but the audience as a whole. It’ll always be getting the audience to call back something we all know the answer to.

I'll never go Once Upon a Time there was because we don't know what it is. I had a friend…who's a storyteller and she would take her daughters to all the storytelling friends she knew over at the Beverly Hills Library [and she told me] that her kids…remember [my] stories and none of the other tellers. It wasn't about the stories because I know these other tellers tell beautiful, amazing stories. It was because of the call and response. It wasn't that my story was better. But it was that call and response. So for me, it's so important to be live.

And then once I went to the video form, I would take moments every now and then where I would have them share the screen and maybe everyone will make a witch face or something like that. Just something to make it feel like I see you and maybe occasionally calling off a name or just something just so like he sees us, we feel seen because we got really into even deeper. In my style of storytelling, I'm listening as much as the audience is listening. I'm completely listening to my audience. It's like, Are they with me? Are you with me? If I do a call and response and they don't call back what's going on? Or I'm looking at them and going, These are high school students. They do not want to participate. I might try it, but then if it's not happening, it's not happening.

I love audio. I'm very proud of that CD. But that's not a group experience. It was neat to watch the difference in the form. So the story for the CDs that kids like the most is the salt story, Ishyusu. The Millstone story. The first story, I had told that story before recording it and then said, okay, now I'm going to record it. And then it's like, okay, I do a lot of faces. I love silences. There's gaps where [I make] faces. Okay, well, I can't do that. Now I have to record the text so it conveys it. So I had to really rewrite the story, then read it, which I don't do because I'm working off of an outline. I've told some of these stories literally a thousand times, not exaggerating. Its form has been shaped over time. The words. So then I'd rewrite it, read it, listen to that CD a ton as I was producing it. And then when I went back to telling it, it got better because the language was stronger and that was really cool. This back and forth. I love how that happened. I’d like to see that happen again with something.

[But without gathering in person], something is lost. And what I've noticed in my performances, thankfully, is they are just hungry for it because it's become so unfamiliar. Already before the pandemic, I think I was an oddity. Now even more so.

I’m curious about the difference between calling someone and saying, hey, did you see the new episode of this show and talking about it or calling someone who doesn't watch it and saying this is what happened on this show? Or the difference between that and actually hearing a story that somebody's telling just to tell a story.

Well, I'm on the computer way too much. But not watching things. It's just reading up on something or composing emails. But I'm not watching a lot of shows. But a lot of times people say, oh, you should watch this show or you should watch this…all this. You should watch this. You should watch this. And then I go, Just tell me about it. And I much prefer it. And it doesn't impact me as emotionally, but I like it that way. I'd rather hear the other person's enthusiasm. Maybe that's it. The enthusiasm of the person. What is it you like? Tell me about it.

What I'm getting from that is the story becomes something different and something more special when somebody is telling it to you specifically, not to the Internet at large.

It's just very different. I don't know whether I want to say better or not. There’s something about the shared experience. On the internet, it's not a shared experience. It's really hard. But if it's an audience, that shared experience, that's just what it's about. You go to a theater and watch a play, and it's shared, but the lights are off. Go to storytelling. The lights are generally on, and we're in time together. You can't replace that. You can't describe the energy in a room, out of space in a time. It's very present.

And you don't know what's going to happen, which is what keeps it fun for me. I know this story. I've told these stories a zillion times. I'm going to tell pretty much the same way, but I'm lost in it, and it's a new audience every time. And you're just running on the delight as long as I'm still lost in the story.

After this conversation, my understanding of what makes stories important and special has shifted. The content of the story is important, yes, but what gives the story meaning is the relationship built between the teller and the listener. It’s not so much the ability to interact with the story, as I originally imagined, but the sense that the story is being told to you specifically, by a specific person.

The Stories We Tell

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