There are many reasons not to wear a dog suit while speaking on stage.
The more time I spent preparing my presentation, the more it became clear that I needed to be a dog.
Story Conference is one of my favorite events of the year. Always.
Not only have I had the honor of speaking at eight (EIGHT?!?) of them now, but it’s also a place that fills me up. It’s like nothing else I get to be part of… a gathering of artists, designers, dreamers, and doers from around the world who actually get it.
Through the years I’ve done all sort of things on that stage.
One talk involved time travel.
One year Emily Arrow and I sang a lost song written by an elderly woman in an assisted living center so she could say one of her songs had been performed at the symphony hall.
One year ended with me launching shirts out of a t-shirt cannon with a choir behind me.
This year I wanted to do something simple.
But as I prepared, I found myself stuck.
I kept thinking about that room…
… and those amazing people …
… and the world we live in.
I wanted to talk about the urgency of COMPASSION, COLLABORATION, and CREATIVE RISK! I wanted to remind that room of high-performing creatives that radical kindness and wild imagination are still powerful tools for shaping the world. The time for courage and better stories is now.
And yet … the more I wrote, the more I realized I was developing a talk about creative risk without taking any creative risks myself.
So I did what any rational person would do: I bought a dog costume.
For years I’ve worked on and dreamed of performing a one-man show about how the movie Rocky was made. Many people around the world know the inspiration story of Rocky Balboa, but few know the story behind the story.
Sylvester Stallone was broke. He was trying to get the script sold. He was desperate.
One fateful day, in front of a 7-11, he sold his dog for $50.
Thankfully, the story doesn’t end there. Once the script sold and he’d been paid, Stallone went out on a quest to get his dog back. The owner didn’t want to part with the dog, but agreed to a large sum of money ($10,000) and an appearance in the movie (which he gets at the very beginning). Butkus, the beloved but betrayed dog, appears in both Rocky 1 and 2.
I’ve always thought it would be an even better movie than Rocky: the making of Rocky from Sylvester Stallone’s dog’s POV.
It’s a story of hunger, heartbreak, and hope. It’s about believing in something beautiful when it would be easier (and safer not to). It’s about making mistakes and overcoming them. It’s about mercy and forgiveness. It’s about the holy foolishness of love and bringing art into a world that didn’t ask for it.
When I stepped on stage, surrounded by a brilliant room of writers and builders… people who’ve worked on Seinfeld, wrote for Conan, launched massively impactful non-profits, built teams, won awards, etc … I thought: “Well, this could go very badly.”
But they didn’t laugh at me. They laughed with me. They leaned in.
It was the kind of audience who could go with me on this odd journey to land somewhere we couldn’t have arrived at otherwise. Because underneath the ridiculousness, everyone in the room knew the feeling I was trying to convey: the ache to make something honest and good, even when it costs you something. The uncertainty. The longing to add beauty to the world, but the broken things we find along the way.
At one point in the talk, while explaining what it means to keep chasing beauty even when it seems pointless, Butkus (me in the dog suit) says:
“Life is a game of fetch.”
It’s started as a joke of a line, but grew into more for me. It’s what the creative life feels like most days … you trust the throw … chase the thing .. journey into uncertainty, and try to bring back something that makes the world a little brighter.
Why would Michelangelo spend years on his back, painstakingly painting a ceiling?
Why would Beethoven compose beautiful, eleborate symphonies long after the world had gone siltent to him?
Why would Frida Kahlo paint through unbearable pain?
Why would Jim Henson turn felt into monsters, frogs, and pigs that made the world smile?
Why would Corita Kent throw parades for beauty and belonging in the midst of protest and division?
Why would Jean-Dominique Bauby lie in a hospital bed unable to move, but compose his memoir through a series of more than 200,00 blinks?
Why would a man wear a dog suit in front of a room of people he loves, admires, and respects?
Because some dreams are so beautiful, so ridiculous, so necessary they require the boldest part of us.
Creative risk always feels like foolishness before it becomes courage. Every meaningful thing we do or make usually begins as something that could go terribly wrong. And yet, if we don’t risk the ridiculousness, we rarely reach the beautiful.
It doesn’t require a dog suit.
It doesn’t require selling your dog.
Maybe for you it’s making that call. Or showing your art. Or asking for help. Or trying again when the world said no the first time.
What it is… if it adds life and light to the world… it’s well worth chasing.
Absurd times call for absurd acts of love.
At the end of the talk, the room stood. Was it a standing ovation? Was it because they’d been sitting for two days and this was the end of the conference? Was it for Butkus? Was it for me? Was it for the courage it takes to wear polyester fur under stage lights?
Either way, it was deeply moving and I’m incredibly grateful.
Story once again reminded me why I do this in the first place. It’s okay to care deeply, risk looking foolish, and keep showing up with love.
So, here’s to you, dear enthusiasts. You dreamers. weirdos, hopepunks, joy rebels. The ones brave enough to fetch what’s missing.
Thanks for letting me be one of you.
Life’s a game of fetch. Trust the throw. Chase the thing. Bring back what’s beautiful.
Socktober is in full swing! I visited a school this week who has already collected more than 2,000 pairs of new socks and underwear for their local shelter. See here.
Sleeping at Last is performing at the Ryman! Many readers will be familiar with my friend Ryan O’Neal and his music. His work has been a big part of my work through the years (from my Kid President video days to the Becoming Better Grownups audiobook and more). The family and I are excited to celebrate this milestone with him on Monday night in Nashville. Get tickets.
One year of Fail-a-Bration! It’s been a blast seeing folks using this book in schools and libraries and bookstores and homes. It does have a typo in it, though. Get your free sticker here.
p.s. The event was packed with many inspiring voices you’d likely want in your life. Check out the event Instagram to get a peek at some of these friends.
Brad! I loved your talk so much. My part of that standing ovation was definitely for you. Your talk is the highlight for me every year (and yes, this is not an ending but a sending is a banger of a line). I even got the chance to apply the final talking point a few days later when my husband jokingly (jokingly?) suggested we sell our aging collie. Without any context, I informed him, “Actually, one of the main points I learned at STORY was don’t sell your dog.”
Thanks for showing up boldly.
Thank you, Brad. This whole post is a salve and an encouragement. Onward.