Around the world and back on Zoom

My Zoom workspace

A year ago, in the waves of pandemic panic, I also felt curious. I’d been half-heartedly playing with online storytelling. “What if COVID-19 is my virtual storytelling bootcamp?” I wondered. On March 16, 2020, I began offering Zoom storytimes every weekday. Now a year later, I’m still doing it.

From my laptop in Lawrence, Kansas, I’ve reached listeners and workshop participants in Belgium, Bulgaria, Greece, Israel, India, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Argentina, Peru, Chile, Colombia, all over the US, and probably other places.

Here are a few of the questions I get asked about doing this:

Don’t you miss live performance? Yes, I do, but there is still connection with the listeners online, and sometimes an even more intimate feel to the performances.

Does it work? Surprisingly well. I was worried that it would be passive, too much like TV, but I’ve found ways to engage even young listeners. I speak directly to them, and ask them to join in on songs, chants, hand motions and other silliness, just as I do in live performance.

Don’t kids interrupt? No. Early on I learned to put everybody on mute without the possibility of unmuting unless I let them. This cuts down on the frantic arm waving followed by “My…my…my grandmother…has a cat.” In my every-weekday storytimes, kids get on at 1:45 for the 2 p.m. (CST) show. They can talk as much as they want then, and at 2 p.m. I say, “What time is it?” They say, “Mute time!”

Isn’t it distracting when kids are doing other things? I’m used to it. During Zoom sessions, I’ve had kids eating, jumping on trampolines, reading books, playing, drawing, painting, wrestling, picking their noses and more. They’re also listening. I know this, because they join in when I ask them to. Also, they come back. I have the same children every day, one of whom (hi, Gianna!) has missed only one day since she began last March.

Can you make a living at this? So far, I’m fine. Some of the storytime listeners tip me. Though I make a little plea for tips at the end of storytime, I don’t expect them—and I’m always appreciative. Schools, libraries, festivals and other organizations hire me (and they don’t have to pay mileage or lodging). I set up workshops and performances on Eventbrite, such as the Russian tales for grownups I did in February and the story games workshop I’ll be offering again in March and April. I set these up so folks in various time zones can attend. I’m also doing a once-monthly storytime for kids in distant-from-me-timezones.

The pandemic also pushed me to start a subscription service to bedtime stories for kids. For as little as $5/month, listeners have access to more than 50 audio stories (no screens at night, please) with a gentle talk-down at the end. I upload a new story every week.

Do you prerecord stories? No. While I know many storytellers do, I don’t plan to offer this at this point. On my website and YouTube channel, I do have lots of stories available to listen to and watch..

When the pandemic is over, will you keep doing online storytelling? Yes. As a self-supporting artist, I know the value of having many ways to make my living. This past year has reminded me to stay nimble, stay lively. I might taper off the every-weekday storytelling at some point. For now, I’ll keep going. Feel free to stop by the weekday storytimes. It’s not just for kids.

I also appreciate referrals, so if you know of a school or library or other organization that would like to have a storyteller on Zoom, I’d love it if you pass my name along.

Let me know if you have other questions!

Silly and soothing bedtime stories by subscription

Some kids go at full speed until, clonk, they keel over into sleep. Others take forever to fall into dreamland. That was me as a child. “Mom….I can’t sleep,” I’d call, four or five or six times. Sure, it might have been that I wanted to be downstairs with the older kids, not exiled to the dark bedroom, but it might have been that sleep just didn’t come easily to me. I was that kid with the dark circles under her eyes.

In thinking about that and about the stories I tell, I decided to offer silly and soothing bedtime stories on Patreon for kids from age 3 and up. As an example, here’s the post I made with The Gunniwolf, one of my favorite quieting-down stories.

Patreon is a platform mostly used for artists’ fans to support them financially, and for artists to offer a peek into their lives and other good stuff, the way my friend Laura Packer does. I’m using it more as a subscription (though of course I appreciate your support). You decide if you want to pay $5, $10 or $15 per month—every tier gets the same thing, bedtime stories, with a new story uploaded every Friday. I’m only offering audio, as I feel that none of us need more screens to watch before bed. I have already posted nine stories, two free for the public and the others available only to patrons.

Good night. Sleep well!

Become a Patron!

When kids Zoom

Zoom calls with children are not the same as with adults. I’ve been offering Zoom storytimes every weekday at 2 p.m. CDT (same as Chicago) now for more than six weeks. I’ll keep on, until we feel safe enough to go out in the world.

Here are some things that happen when kids Zoom:

• Join in even if they can’t be heard, either by having a grownup or older kid type in the chat box or by acting out their suggestions (“What animal was next?” “Oh, yes, a monkey!”)

• Laugh so hard they fall over

• Put their eyes, mouths or noses right up to the webcam

• Watch themselves picking their noses

• Jump, jump, jump

• Eat lunch or a snack

• Hit their siblings

• Bring their stuffed animals, puppets and toys to show everybody

• Draw or paint the stories

• Show off their favorite jammies

• Wave at their friends

I show up about 15 minutes early, and some listeners join me for a little chat and music before the stories. I usually play the harmonica, but my new cat has begun meowing at that, so I play the dulcimer or kalimba or bells. (The concertina is right out as far as Gussie is concerned.)

I’ve learned to put everybody on mute during the stories. I don’t allow kids to unmute themselves, as they can easily hijack storytime, but I do plenty of audience participation. I know most of the listeners’ names and speak directly to them (those of us from a certain generation will be reminded of Romper Room).

I don’t record the sessions. I like to be able to see everybody, even though they’re in small Zoom boxes, and recording would require me to be the only one visible on the page.

Most of the kids come every single day. Sometimes adults attend as well. Even if listeners didn’t know me before all this began, they know me now. They make requests for stories, songs and puppets. At the end of each storytime, I unmute everybody so we can say goodbye to each other. While I do tell everyone how to send me tips at the end of the call, and I’m thankful for this bit of income, I don’t mind if they don’t. That’s not the point of these storytimes.

We build community, one listener at a time.

Feel free to join us!

Dear N. did the outline of me for this portrait, being painted here by dear H.

Daily storytime, an anchor for my day

What a difference a few weeks makes. Last blog post, two and a half weeks ago, I floated the idea of doing online storytelling by request, as COVID-19 came closer. That day, we were still out and about, not in self-isolation. That evening, the library in Lawrence closed. Uh-oh.

Within days, I’d decided to offer storytime every weekday at 2 p.m. CDT (UTC -5, same as Chicago). Stories, songs, puppets, almost always beginning with a little name-that-tune on the harmonica. The more I do it, the more comfortable I am with this medium. I love having regular listeners. I take requests and also try new stories. I bring my regular puppets out, with a celebrity guest puppet daily. Today was Triso, a triceratops.

I have space for 100 participants. Come on over! https://zoom.us/j/874033582, Meeting ID: 874 033 582. One friend asked if I had a virtual tip jar—now I do, my Venmo account, priscilla-howe or my paypal account, priscilla@priscillahowe.com. That’s helpful in this time when all my work for the next two months (at least) is cancelled.

Here’s what the Zoom storytime looks like from the other side:

Some listeners bring their own puppets to the party, or their stuffed animals.

Some listeners bring their real animals.

I have several reasons for doing these storytimes. One is to offer something of value to families in this seriously strange time (I’ve been calling it the Current Weirdness). Another is to give myself an anchor for my day. I know where I’ll be every weekday at 2 p.m. Another reason is to teach myself how to do online storytelling, something I’vewanted to do for two years. And of course, the reason I do a lot of things in my life, to have some fun.

Join me?

Storytelling live-ish

Imagine this: students in five schools in different parts of the world listening to one storyteller (me) in their own classrooms, and asking the storyteller questions via chat. I'm in my studio (otherwise known as my dining room). The stories are tailored to the audience. The schools pay a fraction of the price of a regular storytelling performance, with none of the travel fees. They can use smartboards, projectors or individual screens. The teacher clicks a link and they're in the session. 

Over the last ten months, I've been testing live online storytelling events using the Zoom platform. From the comfort of home, I tell stories to listeners wherever in the world they are. Here's my setup:

The first try was a short puppet workshop for a group of teachers in Brazil. The next was a presentation for a middle school in Texas, with a goal of bringing kids into an existing storytelling troupe. Then I told stories to two homeschooling families (full disclosure, they were already fans). Today I had two middle schools, one in Florida and one in Tennessee. The school in Tennessee had me in multiple classrooms at once. (Thanks to Mariana, Sue, Melanie, Kelly, Tom, Elizabeth and all the other teachers for being my testers.)

Here are a few things I've learned in the guinea pig sessions

• Make sure the cat is outside before beginning. He is charming, but a distraction.
• Mute the audience during the stories, or there will be a lot of extraneous noise (chairs scraping, the intercom, etc.)
• Use a wired connection, not wireless, for the strongest possible signal.
• Put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.
• Don't use a lot of fast hand gestures. Movement on a screen can get blurred. 
• Dim the brightness of the laptop screen for less glare on eyeglasses.
• Plan for extra time for questions, since it requires using the chat window.

I still prefer telling stories in person, but this is a great way to get more stories and workshops out into the world.

I'm ready to go live, er, live-ish. Soon look for pricing on my website for full performances, workshops and "story snacks" (5-10 minute mini sessions).

Have questions? E-mail me or put a comment below. 

Skype-telling

It worked! Last year I wrote about considering telling stories remotely, using Skype. I once did a puppet workshop for a classroom on Skype and didn't like it much. I couldn't see the kids very well. I've also coached storytellers on Skype, which is much better. My friend Carol asked me (again) if I would tell stories to her niece and nephew who live in Massachusetts. Carol lives abroad and has introduced the children to me via CDs.

Yesterday, I met the children not in person, but through our computers. I spent about 35-45 minutes with them, telling five stories and one song, with three puppets. Rachel (age 5) and Gabriel (age 7) were excellent listeners. They—through their mother—sent me an e-mail afterwards saying, "I liked skyping with you and I would like you to do it again sometime :) It was fun! The baby was hilarious. Please bring out the puppets again" and "It was really fun skyping and I hope to do it again soon. The baby was funny! Next time, please bring the puppets again."

Here are some thoughts on the experience:

I spent time setting up the environment. First, I moved from my office, which has blood-red walls, to the dining room. I set myself up with the neutral backdrop of the curtains on the puppet room. I wore a green sweater and turtleneck that contrasted with the curtains as well as with the puppets.

It was a sunny day, so I closed the blinds and turned on the overhead light to avoid my face having a vampiric shade. In order to minimize the number of chins I appear to have when the camera looks up at me, I raised the laptop, using thick books.

A few days before the call, I tested the setup with my sister. The day before, I made sure I had added Carol and her sister to my contact list. I didn't want to be messing around with that on the day. I subscribed to Skype Premium so I can have more than one other video up on the screen during a call. On the day itself, I turned off all other computer programs and shut down some of the services running in the background. 

Because I wanted to introduce the children to a few of my puppets, I had the puppets out of their bag and ready on the table. I also had a glass of water. I should have put the cat outside, but alas, I had to do that in the middle of the session. Nobody seemed to mind. 

Unlike real life, the kids could only see my head and a bit of my upper body. I made gestures higher than I normally would, so my hands would be in the frame. I also slowed the gestures down, as going too fast makes the image blurry. 

I was worried about the connection. On Christmas day, my family tried a five-way Skype call and found it frustrating. The audio was garbled and the video didn't work for one brother. Fortunately, the Skype-telling on Friday was clear, with only a few odd voice distortions from time to time. The video was good for the kids and mostly for Carol, but the video of the kids that I saw froze for about the last ten minutes of the 35-minute call. 

I wonder if Google+ Hangouts would be better. My sister and I played with that after the Skype call on Christmas. The video was so-so, but the sound was better. 

What do I charge for this Skype-telling, you ask? It's for families, not for birthday parties or for schools, and I'm offering it at a low introductory price of $30 for half an hour. Feel free to spread this around—I'd love to do more of it!

Comments? Questions?