Emily Silverman
Emily Silverman is the Founder and host of The Nocturnists. Follow her on Twitter here. Follow The Nocturnists on Twitter here.
How was the idea of The Nocturnists born?
The project was born out of my burnout in residency. I was feeling disillusioned by medical practice, and grieving the parts of myself that weren't being nourished during training — the creative, human, and soulful parts. My way of "fighting back" was creating a space where residents could come together and tell personal stories about their experience.
What have you learned about doctors and health care workers making the show?
So much! Generally, doctors are incredibly intelligent, multi-talented, hardworking, gritty, passionate, and caring. They're rule followers who don't rock the boat, and don't advocate for themselves as much as they should. They're very shame-prone and self-sacrificing, and often have trouble disentangling their identity from their role and their achievements. They are linear, logical, rational, and favor certainty over spontaneity and improvisation. They pour themselves into their work and care deeply about their patients. They're overworked, undervalued, and burned out as hell. I love doctors so much. The imperfection of them.
Can you talk about your work with the Library of Congress and what that means?
Our pandemic audio diaries — real time testimony from healthcare workers — have been permanently archived at the U.S. Library of Congress, where they will be preserved along with other cultural artifacts like the testimonials from the 9/11 first responders. We're incredibly proud of that. I'm also serving as a senior advisor to the Covid Commission Planning Group, which plans to create an authoritative narrative of our nation's response to Covid-19. We can't let people re-write a false history.
When you learned about Covid, what went through your mind? Did you immediately think, "what stories will we tell about this moment in history?"
I was in denial at first. I thought it would stay away, like ebola and SARS and MERS. But when I realized it was coming, I knew we had a unique opportunity to capture this terrifying and historical moment.
Did the same kind of thing run through your mind when George Floyd was murdered?
It was deeply distressing. I couldn't really sleep or focus until Black Voices went into production.
How do you prep storytellers to tell good stories? (Any advice for storytellers?)
For our live shows, we pair our storytellers with a coach, who works with them 1:1 for around 10 hours leading up to the live performances. We encourage people to strip away explanation and exposition, and ground their stories in detail, character, scene. We help them craft a beginning, middle, and end. Some healthcare workers cling to a word-for-word script and we have to coax them to let go.
Can you share a story that has always stuck with you?
So many. "Compassionate Release" always stays with me. Michele DiTomas is a physician who works in palliative care in a man's prison, and tells the story of a young man who was terminally ill. She raced against the clock and slashed through tons of beaurocratic red tape to get him released from prison to die at home.
Can you talk about your Webby?
We were honored by the Webbys for our Black Voices in Healthcare series, which was hosted by Dr. Ashley McMullen and executive produced by Dr. Kimberly Manning. It's an amazing tapestry of voices. My favorite episode is "Hair."
The artwork for The Nocturnists is beautiful. What conversations happen to create those? What's the process?
We're very intentional about curating The Nocturnists experience, whether it's choosing a theater for the live show, choosing the playlist for the music playing in the lobby, or choosing the colors for our website or the style of illustrations. Often medicine is portrayed as cold, white, blue, sterile, metal. But we deliberately push against that stereotype by cultivating a warm, organic, human vibe in our website and art. We've had the privilege of working with several talented illustrators over the years, and each has a unique and beautiful interpretation.
What was it like to do a live storytelling show during a pandemic, especially when episodes were about the pandemic?
During production I was kind of numbed out and distanced. I turned the pandemic into an art project, and that's how I was able to cope. It wasn't until a few months later, when I re-listened to the episodes, that I cried and realized, "Wow. This happened."
What was the message you felt like healthcare workers were screaming during the pandemic?
We love our work, but it's killing us.
Are people tired of telling stories about the pandemic? Do you think we need a break and will return to these stories soon?
Pandemic fatigue is real. For "Part II" of our series, we talked a lot about how to keep the stories fresh. This included dipping into surrealism, and exploring healthcare workers' dreams and nightmares, which added an abstract and almost mystical dimension to the show. We also did an entire episode about the power of art in the pandemic. I do think people will keep returning to these series decades later, once the pandemic starts to feel less like a recent trauma, and more like a historical event.
Has the show changed since it was just an idea in your head?
Absolutely. It started as a small, informal gathering in a living room in 2017. I never dreamed we'd sell out a 700-seat theater, launch a podcast, or create a historical document of a pandemic.
What is your relationship to your voice and how would you describe it?
The voice is an instrument. There's a music to it. The use of silence can be powerful too.
Who are your listeners? Are they mostly people in the medical field?
Our show is a love letter to healthcare workers. That's our core audience. But many lay people listen too. They intercept the love letter. There's a voyeurism to it.
Are there ever stories that can't be told because of patient confidentiality? Is that ever a problem?
There are ways to deal with privacy. First, the story should be yours. No one else's. If patients are included as characters, you can get written permission, or scramble details to de-identify people.
Thanks, Emily!