Storyteller Drew Prochaska, a two-time Moth StorySLAM winner, moved to Beacon in 2017 after 24 years of living in New York City, only to find himself taking the train back down to the city to perform: Sometimes for jaded, unenthusiastic crowds, and often for little more in return than drink tickets. Since there didn’t seem to be a storytelling scene in his new hometown, he decided to make one.
“I just walked into the Howland Cultural Center and said ‘Hey I have an idea for a show,” and they gave me a chance,” Prochaska says. “Turns out there was a huge interest here for this. We opened the doors the first night and there were 125 people outside waiting to get in.”
By coincidence, the same month that Prochaska created The Artichoke—he figured the thorny thistle was an apt metaphor for a defensive storyteller who, in the process of spinning a tale, opens up to reveal their tender heart—another Beaconite, author John Blesso, was starting a series for locals at the nearby bar Dogwood called Adult Stories. The two men met, hit it off, agreed to run their shows in alternating months so as not to compete with each other, and then eventually joined forces. Now in its third year, The Artichoke features award-winning storytellers from such well known series and podcasts as “The Moth,” “Story Collider,” and “Risk,” as well as the occasional Beaconite thrown in to round out the lineup.
Prochaska said that word has gone out in New York City about the raucous, enthusiastic crowds that the Howland Center draws, which makes the show easy for him to book. “Every storyteller that I ask says yes,” he said. It doesn’t hurt that Prochaska treats the performers the way he wants to be treated, which means housing them, feeding them, and, yes, paying them, even though it means he and Blesso don’t get paid.
When booking the show, Prochaska looks for funny or uplifting stories. They can get dark, but they need to end on a high note. “You leave the audience where you found them,” he says. “Everybody needs that after the last couple of years.”
But while the stories may be funny, they’re not standup comedy. The line between the two can get blurry, and many great storytellers also do standup, but Prochaska said there’s a few things that differentiate the two genres. First, storytellers have to tell the truth. Second, storytellers shouldn’t sound too rehearsed. “This isn’t a monologue,” he says. “This is you telling a story to your friends.”
But, most importantly, stories have to have an arc—a beginning, middle, and an end, all wrapped up in 10 minutes. This is where it can get tricky. Prochaska believes that while everyone has a story to tell, not everyone is a storyteller. He compares it to staring at one of those old “Magic Eye” collages: Anyone can look at them, but not everyone can see the pattern emerge from the jumble into a cohesive form.
That includes himself. Years ago, in order to confront his fear of sharks, he went diving off the coast of South Africa in a shark cage, surrounded by circling Great Whites. Prochaska survived the encounter, and then was promptly mugged at knifepoint when he got back on land. He just chalked it up to two very strange, unconnected things happening on the same day. It took a while for the connections between the two events, and about what it taught him about fear and risk, to snap into focus.
“I think a lot of people don’t look at the events of their lives as stories,” he said. “They look at them as anecdotes or just a series of events. A storyteller can see the journey. They can see the arc.”
Tickets are $20. The show will also be available on video 24 hours later for $15. In-person attendees will need to bring a photo ID and proof of vaccination.
This article appears in February 2022.
