“Jody Seay is a wonderful speaker – smart, funny, wise – in that Texas-woman smarty-pants kind of way. Ann Richards and Molly Ivins would be proud. I would recommend Jody Seay as a public speaker for any event.” – Bill Bradbury, Oregon Secretary of State
“If ever there was a woman born to chat, it is Jody Seay.” – Carrie Hoops, former Executive Director of Oregon Literary Arts
“I went to one of Jody's book readings. OMG I laughed and cried - no, strike that - I bawled my eyes out. The lady next to me was passing out napkins to everyone around us. Then, we were off and running in another story and I was LMAO again. That woman can spin a yarn and suck everyone in. What a blast!” – Sandi Augiar, innocent bystander who decided going into a bookstore one day was a good idea
One of the things I’ve learned over the past few years of doing readings and book signings is that there’s something in my solar plexus turning a happy little flip whenever we have all connected - whether through laughter or tears - and a voice inside my head whispering, God, I love this. It’s time to pay attention to that voice, which I have begun doing in the past few years by becoming a public speaker. Doing so has seemed to be a natural evolution for someone who likes to talk as much as I do.
- I spoke at a fund-raiser in October 2000 for Oregon’s Secretary of State, Bill Bradbury, where I was introduced by Govenor Kitzhaber.
- In September, 2003, I was the keynote speaker at the Northcoast Redwoods Writer’s Conference in Crescent City, California.
- In Feburary, 2004, I gave a lecture at the University of Oklahoma, Tulsa Campus, then spoke for two hours to Dr. Jody Anderson’s class on sexism and homophobia in America.
- In May, 2004, I gave a similar lecture to the Women’s Studies class at Portland State University.
- Other possibilities are in the works now, but I’m waiting until contracts are signed before adding them to the list.
I have a promotional DVD and/or VHS produced, along with a completely self-congratulatory propaganda packet with letters of recommendation so sweet they’ll make your teeth hurt. Nonetheless, I’m proud of them all. If you or an organization you know of is looking for a speaker, please know that my fee is negotiable, and I stay ready to go. Also, in case you are wondering if my talents as a speaker can match up with your event, here’s the truth: if I do my research properly and surround myself with good words, both of which I can easily do, then I can talk to anybody about anything. I am from Texas, after all.
We are a collection of stories
We are more than words, more than language. We are stories – each of us, a collection of tales of triumph and joy, sagas of loss and mourning. We are, individually and collectively, a genetic mish-mash of family history, of well-turned phrases, stories told and then re-told, of crackpot ideas, and even occasional piercing brilliance. The soup pot of stories into which we have all tumbled like chunks of turnips now bubbles and stews with us, softening our centers, turning us golden around the edges, making us vulnerable and oh-so-human, and so very much more the same than different. This is what we learn through the telling and the writing of stories.
Host of TV show, BackPage
This is a show about the story behind the story, the real scoop, the inspiration. It is not designed to make anybody mad, nor to feed an over-exuberant ego. It is simply a way for viewers to get to know Pacific Northwest writers and to be allowed a peek at the back page, to find out what the motivation was for each book written, every story told. It is a way for us to discover our commonalties and appreciate them rather than staring in rage or bewilderment at our differences.
We are Stories… But there is always a Story Behind the Story
Honest, Relevant, and Entertaining Speaker
Heaven’s way of ensuring that I would see the humor in most of life’s situations was to launch me into the world under unusual circumstances. My mother’s water broke at the Spike Jones concert at Fair Park in Dallas, Texas. I was born dry and breech two days later – tiny, two months early and with my chest caved in – an impatient, silent and brooding baby. Not even sure I wanted to stick around, I was the unanticipated by-product of my divorcing parents’ having wished each other “luck” at the Hotel Dallas just before their final farewell. On the fifth day of my life, a nurse came into my mother’s room and said, “Well, she finally cried today.” And I’ve not hushed since.