A Story about a (MOTH) Story. On September 30, 2025, I got a chance… | by Subtle Matters | Oct, 2025
On September 30, 2025, I got a chance to tell a 5-minute story on MOTH StorySLAM. When the dust of the storytelling event has settled, I thought that the story of how I told my story is a MOTH-worthy story in and of itself.
So, here goes.
If you are not familiar with The MOTH, you can read all about it here. I have first heard of it from a guest at the local public library who was there — you guessed it — to tell stories.
In July of 2025, I found myself alone at home for a week, with nothing else to do but go to work, and decided to buy a ticket to StorySLAM in my town. I got there early enough to be able to park, picked up my tickets, ordered an alcohol-free drink (I was driving), and got myself situated at a tall table. I came to observe and absorb but, most of all, I came to listen to stories. When an everyday person is restricted to 5 minutes, they can be very entertaining.
I watched people who, I could tell, spent time preparing their stories and those who tried to improvise. I heard funny, tragic, and anything-in-between stories. They were all different, and they were all really cool to hear.
That night, I left early: for some strange reason, my Spidey senses told me to go back home, and I just waited for intermission to leave, so it does not look like I walked out on a storyteller (that would just be plain rude). When I got home, I discovered that we had power outage, and some things had to be reset and restarted. Nothing tragic, just annoying.
The next month, I asked my husband to come with me. Much to my surprise, he enthusiastically agreed to go (and, let’s face it, he drove, so I could have a drink). I bought tickets, we arrived and got us a cozy spot at one of the tall tables.
That night, I felt like I was on a date with my husband — which we don’t get to do much because we both work, old, and tired. And here we were going out for entertainment and food, like in the good ol’ days.
Later, I asked him if he would like to go for another StorySLAM. He said, “Sure,” and then I asked before I thought, “What if I go on stage?” He just shrugged and said, “If you want, why not…”
I checked the theme for the next StorySLAM, and this was the first moment when I thought that I should give it a try: the theme was… Themeless. That’s right, there was no theme. I could tell whatever I wanted and get away with it.
I will make a short side step here. I work in a public library with children ages 0 to 12, and one of the components of my job is story time. When I was learning the ropes of children’s services, I discovered that most people doing story times had some form of theme for them. They could be tied to a season or something that was just inspiring but everyone seemed to have a theme.
When I started having regular story times, the first thing I did was ditch the themes. I don’t like constraints, and I like to have a chance to change my mind when it comes to choosing books, songs, and crafts. So, the theme is usually “Whatever Made My Left Heel Itch Today.”
When I saw Themeless as the theme, I thought that this fits me perfectly. Now, what makes my left heel itch long enough to make it into a concise 5-minute story? And can I commit to it long enough to rehearse for a month before I tell it?
The story I ended up selecting was based on the blog post right here on Medium. I had to tweak it to make it short enough but to still have the beginning, the conflict, and the resolution.
I rehearsed it almost daily. First, I just read the text off the paper. Then, I timed it. Then, I edited the text because I could not fit into 5 minutes. Then, I read it off the paper enough times to memorize it. And then, I rehearsed it without the cheat sheet, with the timer.
I did it at home, I did it during work breaks, and I did it in the car on my way to and from work. I did it again and again, until I knew that if you woke me up at 2am (don’t you dare!) and asked me to tell my story, I could tell it.
And yet, I doubted. Should I? Could I? Would I? I doubted until the very last minute when I went up to the stage to get some MOTH swag and found myself in front of the sign-up sheets. Before I could start over-thinking it, I grabbed the pen, filled out the paper, folded it, and stuck it into the tote bag. Then I sat down and told my husband that I put my name in the hat.
One StorySLAM evening fits 10 storytellers, pulled randomly out of the tote bag. 15 minutes before the show started, the host announced that we had 17 storytellers, which meant that 7 of us would not get a chance to get on that stage. I quickly calculated that my chances were extremely slim and probably did a small exhale: with my luck, I will not get on stage tonight.
When the show started, the host pulled the first name out of the bag: “And the first storyteller of the night is…”
… and she butchered my last name. No offense taken, it is a mouthful.
At first, I did not believe my own ears: not only did I get called, I got called first. Then, I realized that I needed to get up and walk to the stage. I just whispered to myself: “Don’t eff it up. You rehearsed, you are ready.”
Now, when you sit in the audience watching people tell stories on the stage, you may guess that from the stage, it looks different but you may not realize just how different. My biggest sticker shock was the lights on my face and in my eyes. They are bright! It took a few seconds for me to get used to them.
Also, I am no stranger to stages. I have 0 stage fright, and I talked in front of audiences between 1 and 350 people. One thing I always did was watch my audience: their faces, their reactions — I take inspiration from them.
Here? I could not see crap. Nothing. About a minute into my story, I noticed my own reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall and figured that, okay, I will just check myself out. Am I beautiful or what?
I have to give it to myself: my story flowed, I did not stumble, and I thanked myself for not taking the rehearsals for granted. When I finished, I looked into that mirror one last time and thought, “Hey, you did it!”
When I sat down, my husband said, wiping tears from his eyes, “You should have warned me…”
As the night progressed, I was stopped by several people who told me that they enjoyed my story, and at the end, we were all invited to take pictures on the stage. I was hoping for 5 minutes of fame, not 2 hours!
As we were going back, my husband asked me if I would do it again. Honestly? In a heartbeat. I now know what to expect: blinding lights, no audience in sight, steep stairs to the stage… And, like I said, I have 0 stage fright.
As long as I have a story to tell and can squeeze it into 5 minutes? StorySLAM, watch out.
In the words of Terminator…
I’ll be back.