Bridget O’Neill, of Beacon, has told stories 20 times on The Moth stage and hosts the podcast Keepin’ It Real With Bridget O’Neill. Beginning Feb. 10, she will lead a five-week storytelling course at Beahive.
What sparked your interest in storytelling?
I had the art of storytelling in me from a young age; maybe it’s because both my parents are Irish and storytellers. But there was one time, when I was living in New York City, constantly rushing from my recruiting job. One day, I wasn’t rushing; something told me to calm down. I said to myself: “I live in this great city and I never slow down to stop and take it all in.” It was around the holidays and they had an ice-skating rink at Bryant Park, and I watched the skaters with the music playing over the speakers. I was describing the feeling of watching the skaters and watching people watching the skaters. You have that warm feeling that you can only get at a concert, when you are surrounded by people you don’t know but there’s a common thread and interest. I say this because I ran from there to get my train, and I got on the wrong train, and I was like, “Oh, shoot, OK, I’ll just get off at the next stop.” When I did, I heard my name. I look up and it’s this guy, Anthony, who I dated in Philly 15 years earlier. He was up there for some hair event. We started talking and he said if you ever come to Philly, there’s this thing called “First Person Arts.” You get onstage, tell a real story and you have five minutes to do it. I didn’t end up going to Philly because I found The Moth in New York City.
What is The Moth?
It’s a storytelling venue. Two weeks before each show, they tell you what the theme is. Say, for instance, it’s “wheels.” I’m thinking, “Oh, yes, I got a story about when I flipped my Volkswagen Bug when I was 19.” At the show, they pull names out of a hat. You might not get called, so you have all of this built-up anxiety. But if you get called, it’s addicting. Your guard goes down. Once you hear that laughter or that moment of shock, you calm down because then you feel these people are with you. My first time on the stage was pure fear but it turned into one of the happiest moments of my life.
What makes a good story?
Right off the bat, you have no idea what you’re going to hear. You can assume one thing and then it goes somewhere completely different. That element of surprise is my favorite. The other thing, which I think is the art of storytelling, is someone gets onstage and they’re telling you a story about something incredibly deep, and you’re with them all along the way. A friend of mine calls it, “Punch them and then hug them.” I’ll give you an example: Someone was talking about watching his house burn. And you’re on the edge of your seat, but then he says something quite funny, and you don’t expect a funny moment when your house is ablaze. That’s a release, right? The audience is invested but you make them snap out of it. That’s the balance of any story.
Why do you think storytelling is so popular?
The great thing is you can have vast age differences or every single gender background, across the board. There’s a mom, there’s a schoolteacher, there’s an electrician, there’s an engineer — this is not people’s full-time job. You get to be your authentic self, without being judged or measured. Everyone and anyone can do it. There are zero limitations. To me, that’s the beauty of it.
What mistakes do people make when telling stories?
The good thing about The Moth is that you’re limited to five minutes; if you have a 10-minute story, you have to kill your darlings. Sometimes people will leave details in when they don’t matter. I usually tell people not to go so macro. If you go micro, that’s where it gets funny or meatier.
