Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 243

A call to action! Please? Pretty please?

I'm writing to you today for a different kind of reason today. I hope you don't mind. And it's storytelling related. 

I have a book coming out on June 12. It's my first nonfiction title, and I'm excited and nervous. 

Excited because I've wanted this book to exist for a long time.Nervous because it's a departure from my fiction. Something new. I don't want to fail miserably.

I need your help.  

The book is entitled Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life through the Power of Storytelling. It is a book about the art and craft of storytelling.

Part instructional guide, part memoir.

It's written for everyone, because over the past four years, I've discovered that everyone can utilize storytelling to their advantage.

People who want to perform at The Moth or a similarly styled storytelling showSalespeople who want to connect with their customersPresenters who want to connect and engage audiencesMinisters, priests and rabbisTeachers, professors, and therapistsYoga instructors, cooking instructors, and camp counselorsTV, radio, and podcast personalitiesAttorneysCollege and job IntervieweesReal estate agentsNonprofit leaders and professional fundraisersPoliticians and activistsArchivists, museum docents, and curatorsGrandparents who want their grandchildren to listen to themPeople looking to get beyond the first dateFolks looking to make new friends or simply become more interesting

All of these people and more have taken my workshops to learn to tell a better story

A woman once attended a workshop because she wanted to make friends at work but couldn't seem to get anyone's attention. "I will never stand on a stage and tell a story. I just want to tell a better story at the cafeteria table."

Not only did storytelling help her make friends at work, but she went on to perform in our storytelling show and now tells stories as part of her job.

I've written this book for everyone. No matter who you are or what you do, storytelling can help you. 

A few testimonials:

"I laughed, gasped, took notes, and carried this book around like a dear friend—because that's exactly what a Storyworthy book should be. As a novelist, I've studied my craft in countless ways, but never before have I seen its marrow revealed with such honest, approachable charisma. Matthew Dicks has written a perceptive companion for every person who has a story to tell—and don't we all?" — SARAH McCOY, New York Times and international bestselling author of Marilla of Green Gables and The Baker's Daughter

“Matthew Dicks is dazzling as a storyteller and equally brilliant in his ability to deconstruct this skill and make it accessible for others.” ― David A. Ross, MD, PhD, program director, Yale Psychiatry Residency Training Program

"Offers countless tips, exercises, and examples to get you on your way to better stories. Anyone who wants to take the stage, become a better writer, or simply tell better stories at Thanksgiving, will benefit from Storyworthy.” ― Jeff Vibes, filmmaker

See? Seemingly intelligent, presumably real people endorse the book. If they like it, you will, too.

And now... how can you help:

1. Preorder the book. Preorders help to determine the size of the first printing and increase my chances of getting noticed right out of the gate. The book is currently available for about $10 via preorder. Please consider purchasing now and having it arrive on your doorstep in June. Buy a bushel, in fact. Give it as a gift. A graduation present. An awkward, unexpected projectile. I've been told that every time you preorder the book, an angel gets its wings. I don't know if that's true, but let's find out. 

You can preorder on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or at your favorite indie bookstore. You can use these links below:

2. Tell your friends, colleagues, acquaintances, neighbors, and enemies about the book. Ask them to preorder. Share the links on social media. If you know of someone whose company or school or university might be interested in the book, pass on this information. Any and all buzz would be appreciated. 

Thanks so very much for your support. It means the world to me. Truly. Every writer needs readers and every storyteller needs an audience.

You have been remarkable in both regards. 

Brand new weapon of mass destruction

My daughter, Clara, has weaponized our cats by pointing the laser pointer at me, thus creating two unstoppable, relentless, feline missiles. 

I had no idea that she was such an evil genius. All she needs now is a volcanic lair and some red-shirted henchmen. 

My first day without my friend

I stayed home from work yesterday following the death of my dog, Kaleigh. At first I wondered if I I really needed to stay at home, but it turns out that I was a bit of a mess for much of the day.

More than I ever expected, to be honest. 

I return to work today, but even now, as I type these words, I'm wondering how I will get through the day. I loved that dog so much.  

Yesterday I spent the day at home, slowly clearing out the beds and crates and food bowls that Kaleigh once used on a daily basis. I couldn't stand looking at them anymore. Kaleigh loved her doggy treats, so to see three uneaten treats in the bottom of her crate, untouched because she had stopped eating before her death, was like a punch in the gut. 

Later, Elysha and I went to one of our favorite restaurants for lunch, The Corner Pug, forgetting that every inch of the restaurant is covered in framed photographs of pugs. I ate my lunch surrounded by the images of beloved family dogs.

We're so dumb.

Then, because I collect and tell stories, I sat down and began listing all of the stories about Kaleigh from her 16 years of life, beginning with our final moments together and ending with a rainy day at an airport, almost two decades ago, when I took her crate from a man who had unloaded it from an airplane. She was tiny and frightened and so incredibly sweet.

There are so many stories.  

Less than a month ago, I took a stage in New York and told my first story about Kaleigh. As I finished that story, I was able to tell that audience that Kaleigh is still alive today, older but still chugging along and just as cute. They sighed. Smiled. I did, too. 

No more. 

Still, I will tell more stories about Kaleigh. Good stories.

The story about our car accident and my unexpectedly violent response to the driver of the truck that sideswiped us. 

The story about the time both Kaleigh and I acquired canine scabies (and I ended up featured in a medical journal).

The story about the time she and I defeated a French poodle and her rotten, overconfident, despicable owner during our final puppy training competition.

The story about the day in the park when I lifted Kaleigh off the ground to protect her from a pit bull that immediately redirected its assault on me.  

The story about how I took her for a walk around the block in my boxer shorts (and nothing more) in the middle of the night and ended up standing on Main Street in Newington in the pouring rain. 

So many more. 

These stories will be so much harder to tell now that my little friend is gone. But they are good stories that I want to tell about the friend I miss so much. 

When Clara arrived home from school yesterday, I emptied her backpack and found this note from her friend, Ava. I know it was meant for Clara, but they touched my heart, too. I'm a person who struggles with faith. A reluctant atheist who wishes he could believe in a heaven. 

I try, but so far, I have been unsuccessful. Still, I like the picture that Ava paints with this simple message of consolation and love. I'm trying to hold it in my head and heart as long as possible.

Kaleigh 2002-2018

I lost my girl yesterday. My little friend. My best friend of 16 years. 

I miss her so very much. 

23 years lost and nothing offered in return

When Lamonte McIntyre was exonerated for a double murder in October, he walked out of a Kansas prison with a clean record – but not a dime to his name. After losing 23 years of his life behind bars, the state is offering him nothing upon his release. 

Kansas is one of 18 states that offer wrongfully convicted prisoners no compensation at all upon their release.

This is a nightmare. 

Lamonte McIntyre and I were both arrested in 1993 for crimes we did not commit. I was refused an attorney despite the fact that I would soon be jobless and homeless. The arrest and trial cost me $25,000 in legal fees and more than a year of my life. 

No compensation despite my not guilty verdict. 

Lamonte McIntyre lost 23 years of his life. 

As angry as I still am today - 25 years after my arrest -  it pales in comparison to the outrage that I feel on behalf of Lamonte McIntyre. Eighteen states in our country can lock an innocent person behind bars for decades and offer nothing in terms of compensation. 

These states are Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, Delaware, Georgia, Idaho, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Nevada, New Mexico, North Dakota, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, and Wyoming.

I oppose the death penalty for many reasons, but one is that mistakes are made. Our criminal justice system is not infallible. Since 1973, 156 individuals have been exonerated while on death row. Without advances in genetic testing and the guilty consciences of dishonest eye witnesses, these 156 innocent individuals would have been killed by the state.

Horrific. 

Imagine what it must be like to be wrongfully imprisoned for more than two decades and then receive nothing by way of recompense. 

When Lamonte McIntyre went to prison, the internet was in its infancy. Nothing was purchased online. Newsweek published an article scoffing the future of the internet, laughing at the idea that people would gets news, learn, or buy airline tickets online.

Cellular telephones were the size of shoe boxes and restricted to cars.

Words like "app" and concepts like "social media" did not exist. 

GPS was limited to military use only. 

Kale was still just a weed. 

Now McIntyre must enter a world for which he will not be equipped. He was imprisoned in an analog world at the age of 17 and is now expected to make a living in a digital world. 

He did nothing wrong. He lost almost 9,000 days of his life. The state offers him no assistance whatsoever.

What the hell are these lawmakers thinking?

Thankfully, McIntyre did not waste his time in prison. He earned a GED and took college classes. He got a start. Upon his release, he was offered a full scholarship to Metropolitan Community College–Penn Valley. The president of the college heard his story and was moved to act. 

McIntyre plans to finish his degree. Perhaps go onto barbering school. He hopes to one day own his own shop.

I'm still waiting to hear about the four year university that will step up and offer him the tuition free bachelor's and master's degrees that he also deserves. The one the state should already be paying for amongst so many other things. 

Back in 1993, I got lucky. I was arrested for a crime I did not commit. It cost me $25,000 and a year of my life. Rather than starting college, I became homeless. Eventually I was taken in by a family of Jehovah's Witnesses. I worked two full time jobs for more than a year to pay my legal fees. 

It was a terrible time in my life, but I was lucky. I didn't go to prison.

Lamonte McIntyre was not so lucky. He was arrested in 1993 and has been behind bars ever since. While he was locked up, I graduated college. Began a 20 year teaching career. Launched a DJ company. Met Elysha and began our family. Wrote novels and magazine columns. Musicals. This blog. I started performing onstage. Traveled the country. Watched fireworks with my kids and swam in the ocean and drove down the highway with the windows down and the radio blaring. 

All that Lamonte McIntyre lost, and Kansas can't try to make the next 23 years a little easier for him by compensating him for lost time? Stolen time?

Horrific. Disgusting. Outrageous. Immoral.   

Movies require logic in order to succeed. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri lacked that logic.

The thing that upsets me most about a film is a failure of logic. 

A movie is supposed to transport the audience to another world. At its best, it should make us almost forget our own world. I brought Charlie to Paddington 2 a month ago. In the middle of the movie, he bolted upright in his seat and shouted, "Wo! I almost forgot who I was!" 

I loved this moment so much. What he really meant was that he forgot where he was. In his mind, he was existing within the movie. 

That is magic.

This is why we cry at scenes that our objective minds know never happened. Two people - actors who we've already seen pretending to be other people in other movies -are pretending to be two people in a moment that never actually happened.

We know all this, yet still we weep. 

This is what makes stories great. It's what makes movies great. It's magic.

A failure of logic destroys that magic. When something illogical happens in a movie, you find yourself wondering questions like:

Why did that happen?
Why did she do that?
Isn't anyone in this movie going to notice this?
Why don't they just do that?

The magic is broken. I don't get to almost forget who I am. Instead, I find myself wondering what is wrong with these people.  

I watched Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri last night with Elysha. A film that scored a number of Academy Award nominations and a handful of victories. 

Boy did I love the performances in that movie. Woody Harrelson the most.

Boy did I hate that movie.

Why? Logic. Or a lack thereof. 

Without giving away any spoilers, below is a list of fallacies of logic that ruined the possible magic of the movie for me. They are the fallacies of logic that I believe should've ruined the movie for everyone.

Police stations have back doors. All buildings have back doors. This is a basic fire safety requirement. No building in the world has a single exit. Especially a public building. People who commit assault - in some cases multiple times - are prosecuted for their crimes. This includes assault against dentists, teenagers, salespeople, secretaries, and former police officers. You don't get to walk through the world unscathed and unfettered after brutally assaulting other human beings repeatedly. Crime victims and their assailants are not placed in the same hospital room during their recovery.  Police officers whose employment has been terminated are not encouraged to return to station late at night after everyone has gone home in order to retrieve their mail using keys that no one has bothered to collect. Also, do police stations ever really close? Even in a small town, doesn't someone answer calls at all hours?People who are dying and leaving behind a beloved wife and small children don't spend large sums of money on amusing acts of petty revenge. They leave that money for their family.  

For all of these reasons, I never believed this movie. At every turn, I found myself saying:

"What? This makes no sense?"

At that point, I was no longer captivated by the magic of the film. I was distracted by the obvious fallacies of logic. 

Movies also are permitted a coincidence, but they only get one. One coincidence per film. More than one coincidence causes the audience to wonder what the hell kind of world these characters are inhabiting. More than one coincidence reminds the audience that this story isn't real. It was written by human beings who chose to manipulate events in a way that feels unreal and dishonest.

More than one coincidence makes it feel like the writers cheated, because they did.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri relies on a hell of a lot of coincidence. More than the permitted one. 

The movie was also nominated for best screenplay.

That makes no sense to me.  

The performances were brilliant. The cinematography was top notch. I loved the score.

But the screenplay? No. You don't get to put a police station in your movie with no back door and be nominated for an Academy Award. You don't get to create a world where assault goes ignored again and again and be considered great. 

Movies require logic. This movie did not have any. 

Just one writers opinion. 

Joy in the small and the large

Some days are harder than others. On those days, it's important to find and embrace joy wherever it might be hiding.

It's usually hiding right in front of you.

Yesterday...

I watched our cat play in a paper bag until he was exhausted.
I listed the irrational dangers of guppies and ducks to my giggling daughter.
I drove home with the windows down, blasting Born to Run.
I watched a student dance riotously in a cafeteria without any music.
I listened to my five year-old son try to explain quasars to me. 
I held my wife's hand while watching a movie on the couch. 

I try to find joy in my everyday. Little things. Minuscule things. Then I write them down - every single day - so I never forget them.

Sometimes you can find joy in big things, too. Things like the Moon.

You should watch this video. It's pure joy.   

WeCroak: An app that does what my brain already does

My friend, Kim, alerted me to a new app called WeCroak. It does one simple thing:

Five times per day, at unpredictable intervals, it sends you a message that says:

“Don’t forget, you’re going to die.”

The app was created by Ian Thomas, a 27-year-old freelance app developer, and Hansa Bergwall, a 35-year-old publicist, 

“I would get to the end of the day and realize I’d forgotten the entire day to think about death,” Bergwall said. “And it occurred to me, This is so easy: I could just get my phone to remind me.”

If you know me well, you'll know that Kim alerted me to the app not because I needed to be reminded that I am going to die but because it's something I think about all the time. In fact, when I read about the app and saw that it offered five reminders per day, I thought, "Five? That's it? I think about death five times an hour!"

And that's truly a conservative estimate.

The result of two near-death experiences and an armed robbery that included a gun to my head and the trigger being pulled has left with a persistent, constant, existential bell ringing in my head at all times. And it's not an entirely bad thing. The never-ending reminder that I will someday die has caused me to be relentless in terms of pursuing my goals and making every moment count.

It's the thing that forces me out of my chair when Charlie asks me to play. It's the thing that compels me to pick up my tall, gangly nine year-old daughter every time she asks. It's what keeps the TV turned off when there is a book to write or a story to tell. It's what sends me to the gym on an almost daily basis, hoping to stave off the inevitable. It's why I drive to New York on a Tuesday night to perform despite the fact that I will arrive home in the wee hours of the morning and still be out of bed by 5:00 AM. It's what causes me to say yes to the craziest proposals.   

The constant ringing of my existential bell keeps me moving. Forces me to look forward. Insists that I make every moment count. 

But it's also what produces anxiety in me when times goes by and progress is not made. It's the thing that breaks my heart when I ponder all that will be lost when I die. It's why I can be so happy with my life while also be in a constant state of perpetual dissatisfaction.

Sometimes it's crushing to my soul.  

I'm not sure if it's something I would ever wish upon someone, though I have met people who wish they could experience life similarly.  

I once gave a Ted Talk once that attempted to offer the benefits of an ongoing existential crisis without all the angst and despair. I tried to thread the needle, so to speak. 

So although I didn't need the WeCroak app, I downloaded it anyway, much to Elysha's exasperation. I receive my reminder five times a day, accompanied by a quote meant to encourage “contemplation, conscious breathing or meditation” but does not.

I thought it would be amusing.

Then one night a couple weeks ago I was driving to Queens for a Moth StorySLAM. Though I had left with more than enough time, traffic was giving me fits. About an hour into my drive, it looked like I might be late for the slam, which meant I would have no chance to perform onstage. 

I considered turning back. If I arrived in Queens late, I was going to be upset. Yes, I would still hear some great stories and visit with some good friends, but my primary purpose was to tell a brand new story that I liked a lot. Try to win. Gain access to another Moth GrandSLAM championship.

If none of that was going to happen, maybe I should turn around now and spend the night reading to my kids, working on a book, and sitting beside Elysha. Why risk another 90 minutes or more on the road, plus a return trip, for nothing? 

I looked down at my phone to see what my estimated time of arrival was. On my screen was a message:

“Don’t forget, you’re going to die.”  

That was it. I dropped the phone and pushed onward, hell bent on making it to the slam on time. 

I did. I arrived just in the nick of time. I dropped my name in the hat.
I got chosen to tell my story.
I won. 

Would I have turned around had I not seen that message?

Maybe. I would've at least pondered the decision a little more. Debated its merits. Wondered if the possibility of not having a chance to take the stage was worth all this trouble.

WeCroak at least cemented a decision I probably would've made anyway. Maybe. 

It turns out that even someone as crazed and obsessed with death can use a reminder every now and then.

Maybe you could, too. 

CO2 is apparently like candy

This organization staked out a booth at the recent Republican CPAC conference. 

This is what happens when you lie and deceive for profit until you can't lie and deceive anymore:

 You invent a new lie so you can continue destroying the planet for profit.  

People stay home when it rains. How stupid.

This is a real thing:

When it rains, slightly fewer people attend our Speak Up shows. 

Also, when it rains, fewer people go to the theater. The movies. Even restaurants do less business when it rains. 

The same holds true for frigid temperatures. Even the mercury plummets below 20 degrees, people are far more likely to remain at home.

How sad. How incredibly, stupidly, sad.

Just imagine:

In an effort to minimize their discomfort during the time it takes to pass between their front door and the car, and their car and the front door of the restaurant or theater, a person will stay at home rather than going out for a night of entertainment and camaraderie. 

In order to eliminate the 2% of the evening that will be uncomfortable, people prefer to stay home and watch television or go to bed early. They are willing to forgo the 98% of the night that could've been fun because a tiny sliver of the night would've been less than perfect. 

That is not the kind of person you want to be. That is most definitely not the kind of person your past or future self wants you to be. Just imagine how disgusted your teenage self would be at this behavior. Imagine how angry your 90 year-old self will be to know that you have missed out on scores of possibly memorable evenings because of rain or the cold. 

The next time you find yourself saying, "It's raining. Maybe we should stay home tonight," please follow that sad, ridiculous statement with, "What am I saying? What kind of weak, shortsighted, stupid person am I? Am I really going to sacrifice a night on the town because I might get wet between the front door and the car?"

If the answer is yes, prepare yourself for the avalanche of regret that will surely overwhelm you when your opportunities for evenings out at the theater or the restaurant are fewer and farther between.