We recently connected with Jason Cannon and have shared our conversation below.

Jason, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?

So, like many people during lockdown, I had time. Way more time that I was used to.

See, I was a full-time Associate Artist for a major regional theatre in Florida. Full-time theatre gigs are holy grails, especially in the non-profit world. A bi-weekly paycheck, benefits, and job security while doing PLAYS?? I’d been in this job for almost ten years, and it truly had been a dream job when I landed it.

But now, with all this extra time–because theatres, of course, were closed during the pandemic–I reevaluated. I noticed what it was like to be home with my partner Rebecca and our dogs instead of always in a theatre for rehearsal or class. I suddenly started writing, which I had been wanting to do since college. I cranked out my first thriller novel and my first cabaret show. I learned all about publishing. And–again, like many other people–I realized I had begun to reprioritize my life.

Theaters re-opened. I went back to my full-time dream job. But I missed all that time… time with Rebecca and the pups, time to write, time to pursue the projects I wanted to pursue rather than the ones I was assigned. I realized… yep, I was burned out. Non-profit theatre, for all its joy and fulfillment, is unforgiving and insatiable. After a few months back, and several talks with Rebecca, I knew I had to leave.

Turning in my letter of resignation was one of the hardest days of my life. How could I be giving up this dream job? I’d been focused on theatre since high school. I’d been a professional theatre artist–actor, director, playwright, teacher, etc–for 25 years. How would people react? My savings weren’t robust; how would I pay my bills? By WRITING? Sure. Why not.

Every single person I told had the same reaction. There was the initial moment of “Whoa!” And then, to a person, they all said, ‘You know what? Good for you. Good luck.”

I was no longer a “theatre person” (though I still do theatre–just on my terms now). I was now… a writer? Publisher? Podcaster? Freelancer?

It took two years, but now I know what I am. A storycoach. A purposely big umbrella because I’ve built up clients all over the world with all sorts of storytelling needs: playwrights, producers, best friends giving toasts at weddings, Ted talkers, keynote speakers, non-profit leaders, C-Suite execs, and everything in between.

I wasn’t nearly as prepared to take the risk as I thought I was. That first year was HARD. But I’ve also never had a moment’s regret. Things are still evolving and shaking out. But the ultimate risky trade-off–security for agency–has been totally worth it.

Jason, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

My name is Jason Cannon, and the nutshell is this: I’m a storycoach.

Telling stories has been my passion since I won a short story contest way back in 4th grade. (Full disclosure: I totally ripped off “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids”!)

And telling stories has been my profession for almost thirty years now. I’m a director, actor, playwright, and improviser, as well as an author, memoirist, public speaker, editor, and teacher. And heck, I also produce and host the Page&Stage Podcast, interviewing storytellers of all stripes about art and process.

Zip all that in a blender, pour it into a frosty freelance glass, and there ya go. Storycoach.

What does that mean for my clients?

Basically, I work with anyone who has a compelling story to tell, or a story burning inside them that simply MUST get out. Maybe it’s written, maybe it’s spoken. Page or stage, they need help.

Maybe they lack confidence or think their story doesn’t matter. Maybe they don’t understand structure or are terrified of dialogue. Maybe they freeze at the thought of standing in front of an audience. Whatever the obstacle, I can help them overcome it.

Because I understand story inside-out.

I have the writing background–both as author and teacher–but I also have over 25 years of experience in the professional theatre. I’ve acted stories on the stage, directed stories in the rehearsal room, interrogated stories on the script page, and polished stories to keep audiences leaning forward in their seats.

I help my clients unearth their stories, own their stories, craft their stories, and then tell their stories… theatrically.

That means visceral. That means cathartic. That means exquisite and suspenseful and impactful.

So anyone who’s got a story–author, playwright, public speaker, or memoirist–I can help them craft it.

My newsletter/podcast are under the banner Page and Stage (pageandstage.art).

I publish books (my own and other authors) through my own independent imprint, Ibis Books (ibisbooks.shop).

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

There’s no such thing as an ordinary life.

I’ve been fortunate to work with a wide variety of professionals operating at the top of their game, from Tony Award-winners to Green Berets, and from C-Suite execs to IT-specialists and entrepreneurs.

But here’s the thing: storytelling doesn’t care about your accomplishments. It cares about whether you can make your audience care.

And if you can make your audience care? You can achieve deep and abiding change in them, in yourself, and in your community.

That’s what drives me: the belief that our stories are the best way to connect us, whatever may divide us. Stories empower. Stories enrich. Stories clarify. They are how we make sense of the world. They are how we access our humanity. They are how we heal, how we learn, how we grow.

I initially got into theatre because there was a built-in social aspect. My family moved a lot when I was a kid. I didn’t have consistent or deep friendships. Until I found theatre in high school. The power of collaboration, of a group pulling in the same direction, and not just to “win” but to create an experience that impacted an audience.

I stayed in theatre because I daily saw in real time the power of storytelling.

I left full-time theatre not because I didn’t believe in it anymore, but because there are so many other ways to tell stories, and I wanted to bring my experience to people who didn’t necessarily think they were creative or artistic.

There really is nothing more powerful than simply telling your story.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

Most artists don’t get paid upfront to do their art. Most creatives these days have to work almost entirely on spec. The big stars? The NY Times bestsellers? The “famous” artists who hang in museums? They are a tiny minority of the artists out there grinding away in anonymity.

All of that insecurity and non-stop hustling… it’s exhausting. It requires an almost comical level of constant self-assurance that what we do matters. Self-doubt is, of course, a universal human condition. But it finds epic and lyrical expression in the artistic soul.

There’s this perception that artists don’t work hard, or that they should be happy to be paid with well drinks and “exposure.” Nothing could be further from the truth.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://pageandstage.art
• Other: https://ibisbooks.shop

Image Credits

Adeline Osborne, Norton Center for the Arts (for the show picture of the two men in army uniforms)