I won a StorySLAM competition at The Moth!
Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about part 3 of the story behind the Caltech anthology :)
Dear readers,
Last week, I became Denver’s latest StorySLAM champion at The Moth!
The Moth is a nonprofit group that hosts live, themed storytelling competitions. Each month in Denver (and elsewhere), would-be storytellers prepare true personal stories, then throw their names in a hat for the chance to have their most meaningful life experiences rated and ranked by audience strangers with team names like “Honestly, We Forgot To Think of One.”
Competing at The Moth has been on my bucket list ever since I started listening to The Moth Radio Hour, so I finally took the plunge and prepared a story on this month’s theme: “Hot Mess.” I’m still waiting for the video footage of my performance, which I might share with y’all at some point… but to give you an idea, it was about how I learned I was autistic and how subsequent life events forced me to start opening up to my friends and living my truth. (Side note—I’ve drawn heavily from this part of my journey to write the emotional arc of Ana, the protagonist of The Ghosts of Gadolin. You can read more about that novel-in-progress and my coauthor here.)
I was super nervous before telling my story. Although I’ve done a fair bit of public speaking, I’ve never spoken to a crowd that large, in stage lights that blinding, or with a five-minute time limit and no notes allowed. The last time I had to recite something from memory—a spoken word poem I’d written for a college poetry class event—my mind went blank in the middle and the audience started clapping, assuming I had finished. Mortifying.
My Moth performance started a little rough. As I stepped into the lights and all but the first row of listeners faded into darkness, I said, “Quick content warning - there will be a brief, non-graphic mention of self-harm,” and someone laughed. That made me awkwardly giggle, though I don’t know if they had laughed at what I’d said or something unrelated. (Self-harm—hilarious, right? What a way to kick things off.) Then, after my first line, “The second-lowest point of my biochemistry PhD was when I had to scrap four years of work and start over,” I realized I couldn’t gesticulate because I was holding my water bottle. I had to pause to set it down, and though I’m an average-height person, the floor suddenly seemed very far away. Time and space did weird things on that stage.
However, most of the story went quite smoothly! I had rehearsed so many times that it seemed to flow from oral muscle memory, allowing me to truly engage with the content instead of squandering my mental energy on recall. It was thrilling to get laughs in unexpected places as well as the spots I’d hoped for them. Plus applause at the emotional climax, when I was barely holding myself together—and, this time, I knew folks were clapping because the line had hit hard and not because they mistakenly thought I had reached the end.
Then, following the most vulnerable part, I messed up. I said, “Shortly after that—no, not ‘shortly.’ Two years later, I finished my PhD…” and everyone laughed along with me. It was a raw, organic moment of connection with the audience and one of my favorite moments of the night.
The best part of all came after the show, when I was trying to leave the building with my friend and people kept stopping me to say that what I’d shared had resonated with them. It made me realize that, at its core, my story was quite a relatable one, wasn’t it? Fundamentally, it was about how the quest for authentic connection—and self-love—requires us to reveal our true selves, flaws and all, to those who care about us.
These folks’ kind words also reminded me of the reason I love telling stories, whether true or disguised as fiction: when I share my experiences and emotions, and these resonate with others, I feel the opposite of alone. I feel solidarity—that most magical of feelings, which is the basis of humanity’s greatest hope for getting out of this mess we're in.
Sometime next year, I’ll be competing in the next round: The Moth GrandSLAM. In the meantime, if you want to see me tell a story live in Denver, save the date for October 16, when I’ll be sharing a true personal story at The Narrators on the theme of “Long Lost” (tickets here).
Now, I haven’t forgotten that I owe you all part 3 of the story behind the Caltech anthology, but that’ll have to wait because I have to prep for a couple of exciting events coming up. I’ll tell you about them next month, but here’s a teaser: one involves meeting George R. R. Martin!
Oh, but I’ll share one last thing… I have struggled in vain the last few months to get a sourdough starter going (I’m late to the game, I know—you all started yours in 2020) but have finally cheated my way to success.
A fellow Caltech alum generously shared some of his starter with me, as well as the bread recipe he’s perfected over several years (shoutout to Rich Barrans!). If any of you have an awesome sourdough recipe to share, please send it my way.
As always, thanks for reading. :)
Love,
Rachael
Awesome! Congrats! I love Moth! Looking forward to seeing it!