Storytelling School
It’s my very first time at Comic-Con. I’m with my dear friend Denise, and it’s her first time, too. The second we arrive in downtown San Diego, we’re hit with a wave of everything - cosplayers everywhere, camera crews darting around, and volunteers all over the place. There are 135,000 people moving in every direction at once. It’s buzzing, massive, and honestly thrilling! Since it’s Day One, we find our way to the convention center and step onto this long escalator. We’re heading up to the top, and I’m trying to act calm - for Denise, sure, but really for myself, too. Inside,...
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It’s a Tuesday morning. I am sitting in front of my computer, matcha tea in hand, staring at my podcast dashboard. A little number in the top corner catches my eye. 200 episodes, 200! Part of me can’t even believe it. I think back to those first recordings; I was so nervous, wondering if people would care about storytelling the way I do, yet week after week, I kept going. I didn’t always know if I’d have the time, the stories, or the right guests to keep it fresh. But every single conversation, every solo episode, every moment behind the mic has taught me something. And at each...
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I am standing on a court in Santa Barbara, and it's my very first pickleball lesson. I arrived early and I’m already warmed up, focused and ready to do everything exactly right. In fact, even before booking this lesson, I researched every single coach in town. I landed on Richard Pastoria because he's the real deal: a professional coach for over 25 years, the resident pickleball pro at the Valley Club of Montecito, and - not only that - he also has a military background. That combination of structure and discipline and high standards speaks to me because I've been an athlete my entire life,...
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I'm on a Zoom call with one of my private clients. She is a powerhouse executive and is preparing for a TED-style keynote. Her ideas are solid, and her story is incredible; it's emotional, has high stakes and everything you would want in an opening story. And the rest of her Talk? That’s epic as well. Plus, she's done the work and is ready to go. We start rehearsing and everything… falls flat. Her delivery is kind of robotic, and there's no energy in her voice. Even the transitions between her story and her insights kind of feel like speed bumps. She is reciting her script but isn't...
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I’m working with my client on a TEDx Talk. In her opening story, she shares a vivid moment from her childhood: She is standing on a stranger's doorstep, completely nervous and uncertain if anyone is going to answer at all. It's a small detail yet it’s emotionally powerful and completely gripping. After the story, we go ahead and develop the rest of the Talk. And as a whole, her Talk is strong. It's structured and meaningful… except when we get to the end. Something is missing. Her idea and her content are clear, but there isn't really an emotional lift at the end. I suggest going...
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I am standing in the dojo, drenched in sweat. We’re in the middle of a dynamic circle knife drill, and I’m surrounded by fellow black belts, each armed with metal training knives and ready to attack in a simulation of real-life danger - fast, chaotic, and unrelenting. At first, I hold my own, fueled by adrenaline and a strong desire to prove that I can hang with the best. I move quickly, using flashy moves and relying on sheer speed, but as the drill speeds up, my technique falls apart. I'm rushing transitions, missing critical details, and losing confidence. My partners sense the...
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I'm a freshman at the University of Hawaii, living the dream on a full-ride softball scholarship. One night during finals week, my roommate and I decide to take a break from studying and grab a bite to eat. On our way back to the dorms, riding our mopeds, the unthinkable happens and I get hit… by a cement truck. I wake up five days later in the hospital with massive head injuries and indescribable pain. The doctor tells me that my sense of taste and smell is gone, permanently. For years, I don’t talk about the accident. I think, who wants to hear a story like that? It feels too...
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It's the early 2000s, and I get invited to speak in New York to a room full of tech heavyweights - people and thought leaders I dreamed of being in front of. I am determined to crush it, so I do what any overachiever would: I obsess. I write, rewrite, and practice endlessly. No improvising. No mistakes. I even buy a stiff, serious outfit that doesn’t feel like me but seems like something a “real” speaker would wear. On the day of the event I deliver my Talk flawlessly, every word in place. The audience claps, though I leave feeling like something is off. It was perfect, yes, but...
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It’s 2006. I am sitting in the audience at TED surrounded by visionaries, innovators, and thought leaders. The energy in the room is electric and everyone is buzzing with anticipation about who’s going to take the stage next and what new insight we’ll walk away with. When the next speaker, a Swedish professor specializing in global health and data, is introduced, I brace myself for a dry, academic talk full of statistics and charts. Instead, the speaker starts moving across the stage with visible, infectious enthusiasm, pointing at animated visuals and telling a story through data....
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I am coaching a speaker as she prepares for one of the biggest keynotes of her career. Her story is powerful, full of resilience and triumph. As she runs through her story, I am captivated... until it just... stops. She smiles, says thank you, and that’s it. There is no call to action and no invitation. I deliver the news, gently: her ending isn’t serving her or the audience. She pushes back because she doesn’t want to sound salesy. And while I do definitely understand her concerns, I explain that, while her story hits hard, her ending needs to hit home. So we roll up the sleeves...
info_outlineIt’s my very first time at Comic-Con. I’m with my dear friend Denise, and it’s her first time, too. The second we arrive in downtown San Diego, we’re hit with a wave of everything - cosplayers everywhere, camera crews darting around, and volunteers all over the place. There are 135,000 people moving in every direction at once. It’s buzzing, massive, and honestly thrilling!
Since it’s Day One, we find our way to the convention center and step onto this long escalator. We’re heading up to the top, and I’m trying to act calm - for Denise, sure, but really for myself, too. Inside, my mind is racing: Are we in the right place? Did we come in the right entrance? Where do I get my badge? What should we do first? I don’t want to miss a thing!
That low-level panic kicks in because if we don’t figure this out fast, we’ll waste time and miss something amazing. Excitement and chaos collide, and my brain is ping-ponging:
Logistics
Priorities
Schedules
Locations
…all while I’m trying to look completely unfazed. The escalator keeps climbing, steep and endless.
Then we reach the top, and there he is standing right in the middle of all the noise and commotion: Alan Irwin. He makes eye contact, smiles, and says, “Welcome to Comic-Con!” That one sentence shifts everything. The noise is still there; the crowd hasn’t changed… but I have. I suddenly feel grounded. I know that we’re in the right place and that everything is going to be fine.
Alan didn’t give instructions or solve anything in that moment; his presence did all the work. In a sea of overstimulation, he connected with a simple smile and eye contact, and I thought: Of course. That’s why he’s here. Out of all the volunteers, they placed Alan at the top of the escalators. He goes beyond crowd management—he meets people where they are. He reads the energy and centers the entire room.
That’s crowd work at the highest level, and today, I have Alan Irwin on the Storytelling School Podcast so we can talk about exactly how he does this!
You’ll learn how simple eye contact can instantly shift someone’s entire state of mind, how powerful confidence can be (even when borrowed from a “character”), and so much more. We’ll also answer questions like: What makes storytelling the fastest path to building trust? Does true “crowd work” mean co-creating the experience with the audience? How is it that a speaker's resilience is measured not by avoiding mistakes but by how they recover from them? What could possibly be more essential than finding the joy or purpose in your own message before you even share it?
What you will learn in this episode:
- Why speakers borrow traits from admired figures, stepping into a “character” to project confidence
- How great speaking isn’t talking at people
- Why resilience matters more than perfection and how mistakes and technical failures are inevitable
- What about joy makes it the ultimate anchor
Who is Alan?
Storytelling has played a role in both of Alan Irwin’s careers in different ways. He recently retired from a career spent in the infrared industry as a senior software engineer by day. However, he stumbled into Improvisational Comedy in his 30s and by night has performed it for over 30 years, while also spending most of that time teaching Improv.
Improvisation has transformed Alan’s teaching. His secret weapon lies in his penchant for making complex subjects accessible and fun. It has served him well worldwide in speaking engagements on a wide range of other topics, from robotics to crisis intervention (including suicide prevention). He’s taken on the task of communicating very complex ideas to others in tech (and his interests, like geek culture and cheesemaking).
Links and Resources: