Mary Medlicott, Storyteller and Author - Storyworks

Archive for the ‘Reading Aloud’ Category

Storytelling Starters ~ The Happy Prince …

Saturday, June 16th, 2018

The Happy Prince is the new film by Rupert Everett. It took him ten years to get it off the ground and last night was its opening night. We went to see it at the Curzon cinema in Victoria (small and extremely comfortable). The film deals with the last wretched years of Oscar Wilde’s life after he was released from Reading Gaol where he had been imprisoned for ‘acts of gross indecency’. Since homosexuality was legalised, Oscar Wilde could not have been so cruelly punished.

Some of the most touching scenes in the film are where Oscar Wilde is telling stories to children. Early on, it’s to his own two little boys. Later, it’s to two French boys who spend time around him during his exile. The story he tells them is one of his own, The Happy Prince. (more…)

Storytelling Starters ~ Tour d’Amour

Saturday, June 9th, 2018

It sounds odd to say it. But it was so. In the early days of what became the Storytelling Revival in the UK, there was a distinct whiff of opposition to writing. Storytelling was, and is, very different from reading aloud and different too from writing: we storytellers felt at that time that, in public at least, we had to proclaim, reveal and uphold the differences.

By now, a good number of well-known storytellers in the UK – Hugh Lupton, Sally Pomme Clayton, Daniel Morden among them – have published books. I’ve published books too, nine in all, and I feel I can now admit to enjoying both the differences and similarities between the two forms. (more…)

Storytelling Starters ~ Old ghosts

Saturday, March 24th, 2018

My first copies of Storytelling and Story-Reading in Early Years  arrived this last Monday. It was very exciting opening the box. The book has a pleasing look about it and I felt delighted to have copies actually in my hand. Since it arrived, however, what’s been very odd is how much thinking it has prompted in me now that I’ve seen it in print.  On Thursday evening, I took an opportunity to speak about this.

It was a meeting of our WIPs group. (WIPs stands for Works in Progress: it has got nothing at all to do with whips except that meetings do provide the opportunity to whip ourselves into action.) There are eleven of us. We include singers, pianists, poets, artists, writers, a composer and a sculptor. Some do more than one of these things. This week one of four available slots was for me, a chance not just to wave my new book about but to reflect on what the writing of it had meant to me. From this vantage point I could see it had raised some old ghosts.

One of the ghosts took me back to the early days of what is now recognized as the Storytelling Revival.  During those 1980s, it felt like an ancient art was being rediscovered. Storytellers then coming forward had grown up in fascinatingly different traditions of story, many from other countries. A troupe that especially fascinated me,  Common Lore, combined stories with music and drumming from many different lands. The compelling rhythms of their music and the fascination of such a wide variety of backgrounds among their performers had me gripped. (more…)

Storytelling Starters ~ Breaking the rules

Saturday, December 9th, 2017

This week, I’m owning up to breaking what has always seemed to be a rule among storytellers. When first I fell into storytelling, it was the early days of the storytelling revival. At that time, as I wrote in this blog a while ago, even such a thing as including a poem in a storytelling session was regarded as not allowed. Ever since, I’ve also felt aware that, as a storyteller, I should never expect or be expected to read something in public. No. My role, I felt, was to maintain the distinction between reading and telling and to bring to the fore the art of telling without a script.

Doing readings:

So let me admit to breaking that rule on two London occasions (and also, I’ll now admit, a year ago down in Pembrokeshire too).  The second London occasion happened last Sunday evening; the first had taken place in December a year ago. On both these London occasions, my husband Paul was giving a concert at Clapham Omnibus Theatre in aid of Crisis, the homelessness charity. Paul does the singing with his friend Steve playing the piano and this year, I’d say, they outshone what they did last year and in their first Crisis concert the previous year too. It was during this year’s event, as during last year’s, that I did readings. (more…)