Over 100 people crowd themselves into The Garrison on a cold, rainy Tuesday in April — yet, despite the packed venue, it’s almost completely silent. Occasionally a burst of laughter or an audible gasp will ripple through the crowd as they listen to a solitary person talking into a mic. Over the course of the night, the person at the front of the room changes, but the interest of the room never wavers, as everyone listens intently to performers sharing true, intimate stories.
Something that is often overlooked in the cultural hybrid of Toronto is its vibrant and constantly evolving storytelling community. Every two months or so, The Garrison is home to True Stories Told Live (TSTL), one of several storytelling nights held in the city. Participants sign up to share stories to a room full of total strangers. They have to be personal, true, a maximum of 10 minutes, and told with absolutely no notes.
“I’ve only had two people read off of notes before, and it just totally deadens the whole experience,” recalls Marsha Shandur, the hilarious mastermind behind TSTL Toronto.
Shandur has spent most of her adult life working as a comedian, a popular DJ for UK radio station XFM, and host of comedy podcast “Marsha Meets…” She moved to Toronto in 2011, and sought out a storytelling community for herself, based on her love of the London-based TSTL. She explains her first experience sharing a story with an audience — one of her grandmother passing away: “It was such a unique experience, telling it again; I felt so much closer to her, and there were moments that were sad, but also, you know, really funny in a way.”
Shandur started TSTL in Toronto and added her own particular take to the existing storytelling community. She chooses people to tell stories in advance, usually slotting in around five storytellers per evening. A month before their performance, she works with every storyteller for around two hours, providing feedback on their delivery. You don’t need to be a master storyteller to be included in the line-up, although some people are more naturally drawn to the process than others.
“My only stipulation now is that you have to have been to at least one show, so you know what it’s all about,” explains Shandur. The meetings are often her favourite part of the process because it’s a chance for her to really connect with the people telling the stories.
“Plus, I’m also quite nosy,” she laughs.
When asked if that’s what she thinks the appeal of storytelling is — people’s curiosity, or nosiness, about other people’s lives — Shandur says she thinks it’s definitely a factor. “I think it’s natural — it’s conversations you overhear on the subway, or that couple have a fight in a café,” she says, “We’re naturally inclined to be interested in other peoples’ lives.”
She also thinks that there’s more to it than just plain curiosity: “For tens of thousands of years, this is how we passed all of our information [on], and I think there’s something to that.”
Shandur describes the participatory nature of the experience, and how audience members react to each story as it is told — and it’s true that sitting in The Garrison for TSTL feels less like a performance and more like an intimate gathering of friends. People anticipate what’s going to happen next, sometimes giggling and nudging their neighbours, other times groaning and putting their faces in their hands.
“I remember this one time, we had this guy telling this story and he described the feeling of seeing someone and having his stomach do a ‘double-flip,’ and a whole table in the front just went ‘uh-oh!’” recalls Shandur.
TSTL is only getting bigger as time goes on — beginning as a small event held at tiny College Street hideout The Common, the night now draws over 100 people on a regular basis.
“I was told I could have The Garrison for free if I had 100 people, and I said it’s probably only gonna be like 40. Then 140 people showed up!” explains Shandur. She only holds the night every two months or so now because it’s become such a large process. When she mentioned the fact that she’d like to have me tell a story, the next available slot she has is July 2015.
A variety of other storytelling groups exist all around the city. 1001 Friday Nights of Storytelling happens every Friday at 8 pm right on U of T campus, in the Innis College Café. It’s an open mic affair, and participants aren’t restricted to just true stories, but instead are invited to share “traditional tales, stories of personal experience, literary stories, original stories, ballads, or episodes from human history.”
Another popular group is Raconteurs, who meet the second Wednesday of every month at No One Writes to the Colonel, and have readers share short personal stories based on monthly themes.
Shandur says she isn’t surprised by the strength of the community, or by it’s scope. “It’s unlike anything else, really — going to see a movie or a play. The storyteller paints a picture for the audience with their words, and they bond in this really intimate amazing way.”
