Tag: storytelling

• June 19, 2022

  Decolonizing My Bookshelf

  

  

  I first heard of Juneteenth in 2015, when I was working at a YMCA that served one of the most racially diverse zip codes in Washington state—and one of its most impoverished. I couldn’t believe that I had lived in this country for twenty-five years and never known the full story of how the institution of slavery finally came to an end.

  On June 19, 1865, two months after the conclusion of the Civil War, Union troops marched into Galveston, Texas and issued a decree that all slaves were free. It was a momentous, arriving two years after Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. Slavery did not end that day (in fact, it persisted in the so-called Indian Territories until at least 1866), but it was a turning point and cause for celebration in the Black community, becoming the root of the holiday we know today.

  I am ashamed that I didn’t know this history. But it should not be surprising, since I grew up and was educated in a country that is in many ways still reeling from the fallout of that war and still fighting over its legacy. Black people did not automatically achieve equality with whites on that hot, humid summer’s day in Texas. That struggle continues. But I am heartened to see Black artists starting to get the recognition they deserve and Black businesses thriving. That is cause for celebration, even though we have a long way to go to atone for the sins of America’s past.

  On this Juneteenth, I’m reminded that I have much to learn. The more I listen to and read narratives by people who don’t look like me, the better off I am as a person.

  A few years ago, I made a conscious decision to try to decolonize my reading list, to deliberately seek out books by women and people of color before I reach for books written by white men. It has been an incredibly humbling and enriching experience.

  I’ve recently been on a speculative fiction kick, including Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower and N.K. Jemisin’s How Long ‘Til Black Future Month, and I’m looking forward to diving into the works of Nnendi Okorafor, P. Djèlí Clark, Tade Thompson, and others—especially stories that imagine a better future for historically oppressed communities.

  What other books or authors should be on my reading list? Shout out your recommendations in the comments and happy Juneteenth!

  —30—

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and podcaster in Tacoma, WA. His work has appeared in Creative Colloquy, Grit City Magazine, and All Worlds Wayfarer. You can follow him on Twitter, join his mailing list, and listen to his audio drama, The Adventures of Captain Radio, wherever you enjoy podcasts.
• September 24, 2020

  Join Me for a Virtual Literary Pub Crawl

  

  Every year, Creative Colloquy hosts a literary pub crawl in downtown Tacoma. In 2020, due to the pandemic, CC is bringing the stories to you. This year’s Creative Colloquy Crawl will be 100% online, all-ages and spread over a whole weekend of literary awesomeness, kicking off with a virtual happy hour on Friday, October 2. You can join in from anywhere to listen to stories by women of color, hear some new urban legends or tune in for our first-ever story time for kids.
  
  If you’re interested in hearing me perform, you’re in luck. My short story “Pyrocene” was selected for inclusion in Creative Colloquy’s seventh annual print anthology. Volume 7 will be available to purchase later this year, but I’ll be reading it during the Volume Seven Sneaky Peeks event on Saturday, October 3 at 2pm Pacific alongside other authors whose work will be featured in the anthology.
  
  Each event is free to attend, but you do need to register in advance to get access to the Zoom link. Learn more about the weekend’s shenanigans and RSVP below:

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 2

  7pm | Virtual Kickoff Happy Hour

  SATURDAY, OCTOBER 3

  11am | Perhaps It Takes Courage to Raise Children
  2pm | Volume Seven Sneaky Peeks
  7pm | Listen Up! Stories from Tacoma’s Women of Color Collective and Beyond

  SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4

  11am | Yarning a Tale for the Youngsters
  2pm | Write253 Presents
  7pm | From Bigfoot to Honest Politicians: Modern Urban Legends

  The Crawl is one of my favorite events of the year and while I will miss the excitement of the in-person events (and frantically running between venues to catch my favorite writers and musicians), but I also think this will be the best Crawl yet. If you couldn’t attend before because you don’t live nearby or because you can’t make it out to a bar on a weeknight or because members of your entourage are under the legal drinking age, I hope you’ll be able to make it to one or more of the virtual readings. Mark your calendar for October 2-4 — and I hope to see you there!

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer, filmmaker in Tacoma, WA. His writing has been featured or is forthcoming in Creative Colloquy and Grit City Magazine. Follow him on Twitter and subscribe to the mailing list today for exclusive content delivered to your inbox once a month.
• January 1, 2020

  For Auld Lang Syne

  

  Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
  And never brought to mind?
  Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
  And auld lang syne.

  A few weeks ago, as I was driving home from the grocery store, I passed the apartment I lived in when I first moved to Tacoma. More than six years ago, I arrived in the City of Destiny without a job or a plan for what I was going to do with my life. That first apartment was awful — cold, mouse-infested, and dingy. As I drove on toward the house I now own, in my new-ish car filled with groceries purchased thanks to a good job with a steady paycheck, I got to thinking about how far I’ve come in the last 10 years.

  There is something about the turning of a decade that feels like the end of a chapter. The fact that we break up years into groups of ten is, of course, completely arbitrary. But even so, history has layered previous decades with meaning and symbolism. We’ve even given some of them nicknames, like the Roaring Twenties. And so, I can’t help but want to mark this decade and leave my stamp on it, just as surely as it has left its stamp on me.

  And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
  And surely I’ll be mine!
  And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
  For auld lang syne.

  This decade turned my life upside down over and over again. I graduated from college, fell in love, moved to the Pacific Northwest, found gainful employment, got married, became a published writer, saw the world, bought a house, challenged myself to write a novel. I’ve experienced the happiest days of my life so far, but also some of the darkest.

  We twa hae run about the braes
  And pu’d the gowans fine;
  But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot
  Sin auld lang syne.

  There is a tendency to romanticize the past; to blur out the pain and struggle; to sanitize our memories like a social media feed. There’s nothing wrong with that. I certainly don’t want to linger on past hardships, but I can’t deny that those moments are a part of the story, too.

  So, this New Year’s Day, I want to reflect on how far I’ve come and all that I’ve achieved and be grateful, but I also want to acknowledge that it’s been a rocky road to get here. There are always two sides to any story and no matter what the 2020s have in store, I’ll always carry my memories and experiences from this decade with me. As a kind, old Doctor once said, “We’re all stories in the end, just make it a good one, eh?”

  We twa hae paidl’d i’ the burn,
  Frae mornin’ sun till dine;
  But seas between us braid hae roar’d
  Sin auld lang syne.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and storyteller in Tacoma, WA. You can read his short fiction in Creative Colloquy and Grit City Magazine or follow him on Twitter. While you’re here, please join the mailing list!

  P.S. – If you’re interested in learning more about the history of the Scottish poem turned global New Year’s Eve anthem, give a listen to John Green’s review of Auld Lang Syne in the latest episode of his excellent podcast, The Anthropocene Reviewed.
• March 11, 2019

  The Making of a New Short Film: “As Seen On TV”

  

  There was a time in my life where I could call up a couple of friends with a wild idea, grab my handheld camcorder and make a short film in an evening or a weekend. It was a freewheeling, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants style of filmmaking that prioritized creative freedom over everything else — including scripts, plot, lighting, sound — and it’s what allowed Obscure Studios, the film company I founded and ran with a few friends, to rack up well over 100 videos in just two years.

  After moving from Arizona to Washington and away from my cadre of usual collaborators, filmmaking took a backseat to my writing and other creative pursuits. Last year, with the 10th anniversary of our minor hit, Reilly’s Dorm, looming, I had the chance to travel back to Northern Arizona. There, I carved out a couple of hours with my go-to partner in crime, the incomparable Will McDonald, to write and shoot a brand new short film.

  We were a little rusty, but five years between short films can do that. We cooked up a story outline at my favorite coffee shop and the next morning, filmed the opening and closing scenes of the film in the Airbnb where we were staying and the woods behind Will’s house. That afternoon, we set up shop in the basement of Theatrikos, Flagstaff’s community theater and a longtime support of Obscure Studios. We rigged up a lighting setup, cobbled together a campy alien costume for me to wear, and filmed the scenes that make up the heart of the film, as well as a quick promo video.

  And that’s all we had time for. We left straight from the theater to catch our flight back to the PNW and dove into a remodel of our house a few days later. It wasn’t until January that I remembered the footage that was waiting on my iPhone’s hard drive.

  Over the course of a few weeks, I pieced together the shots we’d captured that summer day. I was pleasantly surprised to see how good most of it was and how well the pieces fit into place. I played around with audio effects to give my voice an unearthly quality, tossed in a couple of visual and lighting effects, and added a 1914 public domain recording of “Stay Down Where You Belong” by Arthur Fields, slowed down to 10% of its regular speed as the soundtrack (I had originally planned to perform my own synthesizer music, but I quickly remembered that I’m not very musically talented, so only a few notes made it into the final cut).

  Overall, I’m really happy with how “As Seen On TV” turned out. Much of the credit goes to Will, a fantastic actor who’s immediately likeable on screen and blessed with impeccable comedic timing. And of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my inspiration: my lovely wife who said, “You and Will should really make a movie while we’re in town” and provided both an unplanned cameo and makeup/special effects assistance with the alien goo (aka dish soap).

  Filmmaking is one of those things that demands so much time and attention to detail that you always feel exhausted at the end of a day of filming or editing. But, as soon as you see the final product, a dose of endorphins convince you that the sweat and tears were all worth it and all you want to do is make another and another. Making “As Seen On TV” makes me want to break out my camera and tell more stories, so don’t be surprised if you see more in the coming months and years. I feel a renaissance coming.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer and filmmaker in Tacoma, WA. Incidentally, Tacoma would be an amazing setting for a noir thriller, don’t you think? When not engaged in cinematic plotting, you can find him on Twitter. Learn more about Obscure Studios on our fancy website.

  Join the mailing list today!
• November 18, 2017

  Wired for Story

  

  I don’t know about you, but I’m always writing stories in my head. A snippet of interesting conversation, an observation on the street, a song on the radio — my brain will wheel off on a creative tangent. I hear dialogue in restaurants. I imagine plot twists on my drive to and from the office. I don’t know what causes it, but I have always been wired for story.

  I’ve heard that sculptors can see the finished piece in a hunk of raw marble and that composers can hear melodies that don’t yet exist. I think a writer’s brain must work the same way, because whether I have time to address the thought or not (more often not), these stories ricochet around in the echo chamber of my mind all day, every day. I can’t help it and even if I could turn it off, I wouldn’t want to.

  It’s like having second sight. For everything that crosses my path, I can invent a backstory, a character or an entire fictional world from out of nowhere. I carry around a  notebook in a vain attempt to capture it, but 99% of the stories that flicker, unbidden, into existence escape me a moment later. Those that I do manage to hold onto for any length of time are often difficult to transcribe without losing some of their organic sheen. When I’m lucky, a story that I thought I’d lost will return and stay long enough to become tangible words on a page. Those are the ones worth waiting for.

  I don’t tell you this to make myself seem like I have a special ability. I don’t. I might pay more attention to it, but I think we’re all wired this way. It’s what sets humanity apart — our imagination. We all have the power to see or hear things that never were and make them real. But you do have to slow down to give it time to work. What are the moments that cause you to ask, “What if?” What would happen if you allowed yourself room to answer that question? That’s all that writers do differently. Anyone can do it.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker in Tacoma, WA who has more stories whirling around his head than he knows what to do with. Follow him on Twitter and subscribe to his monthly newsletter for exclusive content and recommended reads.
• February 11, 2016

  Finding Meaning Through the Stories We Tell

  

  I was listening to the radio last week, as I often do on the commute to and from work. It was a dark, rainy night nearing the end of a very long, exhausting week. I was listening to All Things Considered and they were interviewing Yann Martel the author of Life of Pi, about his new book, The High Mountains of Portugal. What he said during his interview struck me as profoundly true.

  In his new book, some of Martel’s characters are writers. One of them muses on why we are so drawn to stories and compelled to tell them:

  A story is a wedding in which we listeners are the grooms watching the bride coming up the aisle. It is together, in an act of imaginary consummation, that the story is born. This act wholly involves us, as any marriage would, and just as no marriage is exactly the same as another, so each of us interprets a story differently, feels for it differently.

  I really enjoyed hearing that, because it is how I have always perceived great stories. They find us just as much as we find them. When I’m engrossed in a story — whether as a reader or a writer — I’ve always had a sense that I’m discovering something for the first time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a short story I’m working on a 100-year-old novel; I bring a piece of myself to the story. My experiences add to the narrative in, as Martel says so eloquently, an act of imaginary consummation.

  Later in the interview, Martel muses on the importance of stories to us as human beings:

  I think that speaks to who we are as a species. Our understanding comes through stories, are exemplified through stories, are understood through stories.

  We are storytelling creatures. It is through the telling and hearing of stories that we learn about our world and probe the mystery of our existence. Throughout my life, I’ve found it to be true that stories help us construct meaning for our lives. That’s why I do it.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. His short stories have appeared in Creative Colloquy. You can join his mailing list for exclusive content and follow him on Twitter.
• April 29, 2015

  All Gathered Around the Campfire

  

  There is something amazing about reading something you’ve written in front of an audience and feeling that they hanging on your every word. It’s a primal satisfaction; like what our ancestors must’ve felt telling stories around the campfire. When the reader and the listener are in sync, riding the plot’s roller coaster together, there’s no better experience.

  That’s why live readings and open mic nights are so important. They tap into this ancient practice of oral storytelling and pull it into the modern world. Hearing a story read out loud by its author is totally different than reading it on the screen of your smartphone and while fewer and fewer interactions are happening face-to-face, reading for a crowd becomes that much more special.

  this past Monday night, I had the privilege of reading my new short story at Creative Colloquy’s monthly gathering. It took me a few pages to get the feel for the right rhythm and cadence, but somewhere on page three, I felt that electric sensation of thirty other people joining the ride. People laughed when something funny happened; they got quiet when something serious took place in the world of my story. Together, for a brief time, we made that little world of paper and words real.

  If you ever have a chance to hear someone read fiction or poetry live, I highly encourage you to try it. Because when the listeners and the readers are invested in the words, you’ll be transported back to the days when the tribe gathered around the fire to tell stories. There’s nothing more powerful — more human — than that and we all need to be reminded of that from time to time.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. You can read his work on Creative Colloquy or follow him on Twitter. Thanks for reading!
• December 29, 2014

  Poverty With a View

  Ten years ago, my good friend Ian approached me with an idea for a script. He had an idea to cast our high school friends in a musical and he wanted me to write the script. The resulting epic story of a pirate who gives up his pillaging ways for love, two fighting Siamese twins, a Pope who befriends a squid and a dastardly Canadian plot to destroy the world never saw the light of day, but it did spawn the creation of my film company, Obscure Studios.

  For a decade, Obscure Studios has churned out short films and webseries. We’ve made 150 videos. We haven’t been as prolific since our college days and especially not since a few of us have moved across the country, but filmmaking is still near and dear to my heart. I hope to find the time to create more shorts in the coming year.

  In the meantime, I decided to commemorate 10 years of silliness by finally finishing “Poverty With a View.” This pilot episode for a webseries starring myself, Ian Olsen and Will McDonald was filmed in the summer of 2013 in the weeks before I packed up and moved to Washington. We had originally intended to complete a 12-episode story arc, but ran out of time and only just barely squeezed out the first (and only) episode. It tells the story of three college graduates who discover that the world outside of school is harder to navigate than they ever feared. It’s a comedy that I think resonates with those of us who came into the workforce during the recession. It’s also a little love letter to one of my favorite places, Flagstaff.

  It’s rough. We never had time to grab pick-up shots. But in its flaws, I am reminded of why I love film. It has a special power to pull us into another world. For a few moments, we can walk in the shoes of the characters. I hope you’ll enjoy watching our effort come to life and I hope you’ll stick around for more videos in the future.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and erstwhile filmmaker in Tacoma, WA. You can follow him on Twitter. His newest project with Obscure Studios, Poverty With a View, was shot entirely in Flagstaff, AZ except for two shots. See if you can spot which ones and let me know in the comments! Thanks for watching!
• August 7, 2014

  Apocalypse Train Through Denmark

  

  This week, I watched two wildly different films. One was the closing night film at the First Annual Destiny City Film Festival. The other was a thriller/allegory with lots of violence and action. One was a carefully-crafted, low-key story about a man who goes searching for his grandfather and the other was a high-intensity rollercoaster ride about class warfare on a train circumnavigating a frozen, lifeless Earth.

  On the surface, these two movies have absolutely nothing in common, but when I started to dig deeper and thought about it, the more I realized that they are telling a story that is fundamentally the same. For all their differences, Copenhagen and Snowpiercer use the same storytelling tools.

  [This is your only warning: Here be spoilers, matey.]

  

  Mark Raso’s Copenhagen starts with a man on a mission to return to the homeland of his father and track down his grandfather. He is looking for insights into a man he never knew and ultimately, looking for answers about himself. What William finds, however, is a forbidden love and is faced with responsibility for the first time in his life. It’s classic indie fare — long sequences of riding bikes through the cobblestone streets of Denmark’s capital, Europop, muted colors, an unlikeable protagonist who grows into a mature man and a barrel of twentysomething angst simmering just below the surface.

  

  Our second movie is, um, a little different. Bong Joon-ho’s Snowpiercer is a South Korean scifi action film that opens with a dispirited group of refugees from a now-frozen planet riding in the back of a train that circles the world once a year and never stops. It is Titanic on a locomotive, with the rich people in the front and the poor people in the back, but without all the mushy love and romance. Early on, our protagonist shuns the role of the leader even as he prepares to lead a revolution to take over the train and free his people from a life of servitude and mashed-up cockroach food.

  This film has all the tropes of apocalyptic science fiction —authoritarianism masquerading as capitalism, a closed world (the train could just as easily have been a spaceship), lots of blood, futuristic drugs, muted colors, bad dialogue, a man who refuses a position of leadership who grows into a mature man and a boxcar of 21st century end-of-the-world angst boiling over.

  Completely different.

  

  And yet, at the heart of each film is a coming of age story. In Copenhagen, William can’t grow up until a younger woman shows him a new way of looking at the world. At the climax of this story, William must face a moral choice that will define him. In Snowpiercer, Curtis can’t grow into a wise and just leader until he atones for his part in a slaughter in the desperate early days of the global apocalypse. In the end, Curtis must choose between the role of ruler or martyr.

  

  There are so many ways to tell a story. That’s what I love most about being a writer. There are infinite possibilities. With a few changes in setting and tone, I can go from William standing on the Danish coast where the Baltic Sea and the North Sea meet to a speeding luxury train carrying the last members of humanity. With a few flicks of a pen, I can transform hedonistic, nihilistic William into Captain American killing people with an axe.

  Despite their differences, I really enjoyed both films (although, I’ll admit that I had trouble taking Snowpiercer very seriously). From each, I gained a new perspective on a well-worn tale. That’s the versatility of a story.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and filmmaker in Tacoma, WA. Comment below or follow him on Twitter. Thanks for reading!
• June 5, 2014

  Nothing’s New; Everything’s New

  

  I’ve spent a significant portion of my writing life discovering that my brilliant ideas have already been done. I wanted to write a fantasy epic, but J.R.R. Tolkien beat me to the punch by 50 years. I wanted to write about a socially challenged consulting detective only to find that not only was I a century too late to the party, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had written his character far better than I ever could. Stepping back, it’s easy to get the sense that the bulk of mankind’s stories have already been told.

  After all, humans have been doing this storytelling thing for a while now. Scholars generally agree that the first written epic was penned 4,500 years ago. In the millennia since, we’ve pretty much exhausted our supply of material, from quests for ancient treasure to tales of revenge to stories of the empty promise of the American Dream. No matter what story you want to tell, chances are someone has told it — probably dozens of people every couple of centuries. There are simply no more new stories left that the world hasn’t heard.

  I guess that means we should all put down our pens and pencils. Shut our laptops and content ourselves with the books that exist instead of making new ones. There doesn’t appear to be anything more to add.

  Or, we can spin new cloth from old thread. Instead of trying to be brand new, why not focus on original execution of old ideas? Sure, there have been plenty of novels written about war. But if you give it a modern spin — take your soldiers off the battlefield and instead put them in a cubicle waging cyber warfare — you can take something old and give it a breath of newness.

  There’s nothing wrong with recycling old ideas into new forms. George Lucas created an international phenomenon by taking an old story — rescuing a princess from a heavily guarded fortress — and setting it in space. The concept was around for hundreds of years, but with a few tweaks, it felt brand new. That takes serious creativity to pull off.

  You don’t have to be as obvious as Lucas about where your inspiration comes from. The trick is to approach a story that may be as old as the invention of fire and find a novel way of looking at it. That isn’t rehashing the same old thing. It’s finding the angle that no one has thought of before. That’s the challenge that faces writers today. All of our stories are old, but they all have the potential to be new again.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA who dreams of one day taking George Bernard Shaw’s 1894 play “Arms and the Man” and setting it in the present day. When he isn’t figuring out how to do that, he can usually be found on Twitter. Thanks for reading!