This Book Is Going to Make Erin Barker Very Angry
Sometime in the second year of my storytelling career, I’m sitting at the bar with Erin Barker, a two-time Moth GrandSLAM champion, one of the finest storytellers I know, and the host of the Story Collider, a storytelling show featuring scientists and science-related themes. I’m performing in her show tonight, telling a story about my high-school biology teacher.
“I heard you won the slam last night,” she says, referencing a Moth StorySLAM at The Bell House in Brooklyn the night before.
“I did,” I say. “But I almost lost to a stand-up. He was funny as hell but just didn’t have enough story. But he came close. If I had five or ten minutes with him, I could turn him into a really good storyteller.”
Erin grabs me by the wrist and pulls me in close. “Don’t you ever give away our secrets.”
I loved Erin’s reaction. When it comes to story slams, I am exceptionally competitive. I want to win every time. For a while, this made me feel like the biggest jerk in town. But it turns out that most of my favorite storytellers, Erin included, are just as competitive as I am when it comes to competitive storytelling. We want to win. We want to be recognized as the best.
For the first four years of my storytelling career, my sights were set on storyteller extraordinaire Adam Wade, who had won a then-record twenty Moth StorySLAMs before retiring from the slam circuit.
My win total at the time of this writing is thirty-four. I’m not sure if this is a record. The Moth now hosts StorySLAMs in more than two dozen cities, so there’s no telling if or where someone is racking up as many wins as me. But I like to think it’s a record.
In fairness, the winning has also helped me quite a bit. It was winning so often at The Moth that first got me recognized by producers, directors, and the people who wanted to learn this craft from me. It’s part of the reason that I am able to travel around the country and the world telling stories. It probably helped me land this book contract.
But unlike in many other competitions, storytellers root for their fellow storytellers to succeed. We never wish misfortune on other storytellers. We honestly want to see them perform well. Unlike baseball, where I hoped the opposing batter would strike out, or in football, where I would wish for a fumble, or even in poker, when I am pleased when an opponent draws a bad hand, I never want my fellow competitors to freeze up, fall apart, or tell something cringeworthy. I want them to do their best. I just want to do slightly better.
Erin let me know that night that I was not alone in my zeal to win. In fact, when she beat me in my first GrandSLAM, she was the only woman in the show. When she was named the winner, she turned to her nine male competitors and said, “Suck it, boys.” The perfect response.
I wonder what Erin will think of this book. I’m giving away our secrets — or at least mine — in a big way.