Squidlog.net

Some of you know that Squidster and I are building the English-language blog for Michael Kunze, the most successful German stage author in the history of musical theater. Michael’s drama musicals REBECCA, ELISABETH, MOZART, MARIE ANTOINETTE, and DANCE OF THE VAMPIRES have seen thousands of sold-out performances in the best musical theater houses of Europe and Japan since the Vienna premiere of ELISABETH in 1992.

Michael features a workshop video series on his German blog where he shares his insights on story selection, design, and development. He talks about the questions he asks himself when evaluating a story for its potential as a (musical) play. Especially for his drama musicals, every aspect must serve the story. The story itself and the dramatic art of its telling are the most important factors of all his work.

I find it fascinating how much we can learn from this master story teller that we can use for our own online content creations. When Michael speaks of his works, we simply replace (drama) musicals with our own stories/our original content and then see which principles we can apply to our writing. Whatever we write about, it’s always a story. (We know that great marketing comes through superb storytelling!) Whether in plays or on lenses or blog posts…we want to engage our readers and give them something useful to take away from our page. Doesn’t it make great sense for us to learn more about great storytelling?

I love the last sentence in this clip…“not leaving one moment without tension!”

Michael admits freely that he studied the art of story telling with an American – Robert McKee. In my e-mail interview with Michael, I asked him why he didn’t work with any German story giants…

In this next clip, Michael Kunze explains what he calls the “7 Deadly Sins Of A Bad Musical”. Can you find any relevant parallels to lens building or blog writing?

Let me know in the comment box if these videos inspire you. We could explore this topic further with translations from Michael’s German-language blog. But before I spend more time on it I’d like to find out if you’re interested in such a project.

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A few years ago, I managed a cheese cake factory. At any given time we had over 60 pies either baking in the ovens or cooling on the racks. Naturally, the room was filled with aromas of vanilla, lemon and caramelized custard.

So far, so good. Except…!

Once a month, the truck from the waste disposal company stopped by, to empty out the grease trap located in a corner of our large factory hall. We basically could smell their arrival through closed doors, but then they brought their hose inside. Our vanilla “nirvana” turned quickly into a “no wanna” (be in here anymore, that is!). But whatcha gonna do if the cakes need to be supervised? Stick it out and hold your nose, right?

I’ll never forget the day when the driver handed me the work slip for my signature. He looked me in the eyes and said with a blissful expression on his face:

“Smells like cheese cake in her!”

I didn’t think so.

Oh, how often I think about this little incident! I can see the driver’s face in my mind as if he were standing in front of me right now. The conviction of truth in his statement expressed with a joyous smile…and yet – from just three feet away, I couldn’t have disagreed any stronger!

Thinking up analogies to this story tickles my chef whites pink:

• The fabulous taste of a piece of dry bread when you’re starved…
• The rejuvenating power of fresh water on a hot summer day…
• The beauty of a small blossom in a crack of the asphalt…
• The unexpected apology from my enemy…
• The friendly smile in a scary stranger’s face…

The glory of cheese cake aroma when you smell nothing but s**t all day…

Can you think of any more analogies?

Doesn’t it feel good to remember beauty?

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The grocery store was busy and all check-out booths were filled with long lines of stressed shoppers, eager to get the heck outta there. I’m still puzzled over my luck in this drab situation. What must have been the store’s friendliest checker – she greeted me with a caring “did you find everything alright?”, while swiftly running my first items across the scanner.

“Oh, it is so kind of you to ask!”, I said. “Matter of fact, I had some minor difficulties in the canned vegetables section. Aisle 8, I believe.”

I bit my lips immediately over my own rudeness. Why didn’t I notice that instantly after her question she’d started a chat with the checker behind her. They must have been talking about something funny because she laughed so hard that she dropped a bag of my grapes on the floor. (No harm done – grapes should be washed anyway before consumption. I’m sure the store has a cleaning crew coming in later to wipe up the quarter pound smashed by her boot.)

I didn’t mean to be pushy, of course, but Miss Speedy was half-way done with my load and I really wanted to answer her inquiry into my shopping experience.

“Unfortunately”, I continued, “the baked beans were on the top shelf, and when reaching for them – I knocked back the last can of my favorite brand. A step-ladder would have been helpful!”

If looks could kill, you’d never seen this story in writing! My selfish babbling must have kept her from hearing the neighbor checker’s punchline. He looked at her with anticipation (”Don’t you think I’m the funniest guy of this outfit and whatcha doing after work?”), but I must have spoiled the whole thing with my petty baked beans issues.

“Quite frankly”, I added, “the corn syrup doesn’t belong with the pancake stuff – it should be located with the baking supplies. Took me at least ten minutes to figure this out!”

I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Both checkers and their respective sackers now stared at me as if they were thinking: “Shuuhd uuhp, dork!”

I’m so sorry.

Next time I go shopping, I’ll look again for my friendly check-out angel. Nothing beats the feeling of sincere customer appreciation in this hectic world of today. (And I can’t wait to mention that the yogurt should definitely be in the milk cooler!)

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Nifty cooking outfit – don’t you think?

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My earliest gourmet dinner memories involve a beer garden named “Waldbrunn”, my parents, and a 2-year old you-guessed-who. Mom would proudly share this story for years to come – with anyone who hadn’t heard it more than three times, already.

Back in the 1950’s, most beer gardens in and around Munich allowed their guests to bring their own dinner food, as long as they purchased the beer with their meals. My parents enjoyed the 20-minutes walk through the forest with their kids. Usually, my mom had bought some wonderful Swiss cheese from our neighborhood grocery, and we ordered the beer, along with fresh pretzels and a steaming bowl of weenies for the adults. Kathy, our regular waitress with the triple-digit cup size, delivered the soda and cake for us young ‘uns.

My mother delighted in telling it over and over – li’l me would ALWAYS reach for the beer first, and then for the weenies! The cake went into a doggie bag.

I must have been born with a strong sense for the finer culinary delights under the stars. To this very day I love my weenie, although I had to give up the beer many years ago. I had started too soon, and I had loved it too much.

Young Bavarian Chef

I came to the States in 1981 and married a Texan lady. For years, we’ve been looking for authentic weenies to revive my childhood gourmet dreams. I finally discovered a brand that ‘knacked’, literally: “Nueske’s”.

In 1882, the Nueske family came to Wisconsin, bringing along their European skills of applewood smoking and curing meats. In 1933, R.C Nueske began to take his smoked bacon, hams, and sausages on the local roads. The business grew over several generations into a huge company, always maintaining the quality of their family recipes.

Their meats are fabulous. Their weenies are perfect for this baby.

Go get some.

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