I am a mid last century (1952) man, took part in the flower power “revolution” in the sixties, was caught in study loans and then, for seven years, worked my ass off as a construction worker. Those years were my “real life” education.
Coincidence opened a new path to me as a self taught journalist. During my time in constructions I experienced days and weeks of unemployment, and one day a union assistant said to me: “You are not meant to have holidays here on the cost of older and more experienced workers. Now go to the chairman. He has a job for you.”
The job he had for me was the job as reporter for the union magazine. I reported as I could, without any formal education, and seemingly my writings were accepted. I made a living now and eventually advanced to other media.
In the aftermath of the 2008 finance crisis I left journalism and formed a webdesign and web communications bureau. I coworked with storytellers and was slowly contaminated with that passion anew – this time not in text, but in oral storytelling (scary, scary).
As a storyteller I specialized in stories right out of my own life and experience, and – although I am not the least afraid of framing the stories with mastery tools – I care a lot about keeping the core of the story fresh and very close to the first impression and sensibility. When I tell upon my own inner images my listeners are caught in their own images making their own backdrop for “our” story.
Telling stories right out of the sensations makes me a slow storyteller. My almost uncomfortable long pauses are the cracks for the listener to step in and be part of the story.
My own favorite stories are from the land of childhood and teen age.
I have caught an audience, and among them are my own four children and five grand children.
