My 15 year storytelling anniversary!

Little did I know how important this day would be in my life.

Truly, it was one of the most important days of my life. It’s changed my life forever. It’s why I’m no longer teaching. It’s why my family and I are able to do so many of the things that are possible today. It’s become my primary source of income and has taken me to amazing places around the globe.

I went to New York City on July 12, 2011, to tell a single story on a single stage, and 15 years later, that tiny moment has snowballed into a brand new life for my family and me.

On July 12, 2011, I went to Manhattan with Elysha Dicks to tell a story on a Moth stage. I decided to go for a couple of reasons:

So I told Elysha that we needed to go. She bought the tickets, and off we went to the famed Nuyorican Poets Cafe to my very first Moth StorySLAM.

But even after putting my name in the hat, I tried to avoid taking the stage. The idea of telling my story to a bunch of hipsters with side-eye and man-buns was suddenly less appealing. When the host, Dan Kennedy, called my name, I froze, realizing that no one in the room knew me. If I remained quiet and still, they would have to eventually call someone else to the stage.

Then Elysha kicked me under the table and told me to go.

Thankfully, I did.

The moment I began speaking into that microphone, I knew I had found a place where I belonged.

Happily, miraculously, I won that Moth StorySLAM.

The next day, I wrote a blog post about my experience, which included these words:

“I know it sounds a little silly, but in the grand scheme of things, the birth of my daughter was probably the most important day of my life. Next comes my marriage to my wife, then the sale of my first book, and maybe this. It was that big for me.

Perhaps I’ll tell more stories in the future, and The Moth will become old hat for me, but on this day, at this moment, I couldn’t be more happy.

It was a big night for me, and one I will never forget.”

I was remarkably prescient while writing that post. It seems as if I already knew I had found something special.

And I was right. It was a big night for me. A momentous, incalculably life-changing moment.

Since that night:

In 2013, Elysha and I launched Speak Up — our own storytelling organization. We’ve produced more than 200 shows since our inception in theaters ranging from 50 to 500 seats, and we’ve sold out most of them. We also partner with organizations like Voices of Hope, Red Talks, and Yale University to teach storytelling workshops.

My friend, Jeni Bonaldo, and I have created “Matt and Jeni Are Unprepared” — a storytelling improv show that we perform whenever I can twist her arm into getting on stage with me again.

In 2020, along with a partner, I launched Storywiorthy — a company that produces online storytelling content for people around the world.

In 2025, along with a partner, I launched the Homework for Life app — based upon my trademarked process of finding and collecting stories from your everyday life.

That same year, I partnered with The Keynote Group to manage my speaking and consulting. My partner, Yolanda Harris, has changed my life through her wisdom, experience, support, and relentless advancement of my career.

So much has happened in 15 years. My life has changed in ways I would’ve never predicted.

Elysha’s life has changed, too.

Along with my books, storytelling helped Elysha stay home with the kids for a decade. It’s brought her to the role of emcee for Speak Up events. It’s given her confidence and poise as she navigated performing for audiences and has introduced her to some incredible people.

It’s also given us the ability to offer the children opportunities that were once seemingly impossible and to afford us luxuries we never previously imagined.

It’s quite the anniversary for me.

But here is what I want you to know:

It all began by saying yes to uncertainty. It all began with a single, first step.

I could never have dreamed about the life I have today. Back in July of 2011, all I wanted to do was tell a story.

Then, I wanted to tell another. And another after that.

I committed myself to a craft. I tried like hell to be better every day. I sought to be the best at something in the simple pursuit of excellence.

I never dreamed of ever making a penny from storytelling. I simply wanted to tell stories to audiences wherever I could find them.

It’s why I still perform at The Moth today. Even though I am now routinely paid to perform, I still make the trek to NYC and Boston to perform for free for The Moth. I still drop my name in the hat and hope to be chosen so I can share a short, simple story with the audience.

I’m still invested in the craft. I’m still trying to get better. I’m still in pursuit of excellence.

It’s easy to see someone who is successful and confident and believe that they have always been that way. We see rises as meteoric and simple. We often see the end result of a journey and assume that the person standing before us is the same person who began it.

This is never true.

It’s easy to see someone at the top of the mountain and forget that it all began with a single, uncertain step into an unknowable wilderness of possibility.

Fear holds us back so often in life. It keeps us from realizing our untapped, unseen, impossible-to-predict potential. It blocks us from opportunities. It stops us from being daring. It keeps us away from new things and forces us to reside in the familiar.

Delay and inaction are equally insidious. Far too often, people spend weeks, months, years, and lifetimes imagining, planning, and waiting but never doing. They wait for the time to be right. They delay because life is too busy. They plan for a moment that never comes.

Thoreau said that “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

I believe that. I believe it wholeheartedly.

If fear or inaction is holding you back from trying something new, taking a risk, or realizing a dream, I encourage you to rise above it. Push that fear aside long enough to take a leap. Find people who will support you, encourage you, and even force you to try.

Frank Herbert said this about fear, which I also believe wholeheartedly:

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

— Frank Herbert

I shudder to think about what my life would be like today had I not taken that stage 15 years ago and told my first story.

I can’t imagine going to my grave with a song still inside me.