I Wish You Were There

Have you ever tried to explain an improv scene you experienced? Maybe you were onstage, or in the audience, and you want a friend to understand how much fun it was to be there. It’s near impossible. Sure, you explained all the moments, you have all the right details in the right order, but something is missing. It’s near impossible to duplicate the energy in your description. The mix of laughter and support is hard to capture. Ultimately, you just mutter, “it’s hard to explain. I wish you were there!“

I had a very improv moment with a bunch of turkeys last week. If you live in Roseville or Rocklin you know there are A LOT of turkeys. And, listen, I don’t want to get “Big Turkey“ mad at me, but they’re not the smartest birds. When they want to cross the street, they’re going. They’re not looking, they’re going. If you’re driving, you’re stopping.

Well, hopefully. Sometimes, this car/turkey combo doesn’t go well.

But…last week? It went great! Four lanes of traffic stopped to let a family of turkeys scurry across the road. Seven little turkeys just doing their best. And, no one seemed angry. Everyone just helped out. It was awesome to watch.

Improv is a lot like these little turkeys, the road, and the drivers. So, who represents what in this metaphor? Let’s do a quick casting call:

The role of improv scene itself will be played by the turkeys.

The role of improvisers and the audience will be the cars.

The stage equals road.

And, finally the role of “someone looking too deeply into turkeys crossing the road“ will be played by me.

Great. We all have our parts. Now, onto the beauty of the moment! An improv scene is just a bunch of turkeys trying to survive while barreling across the road. We all have that moment of worry when we initiate a scene: will this scene make it? We can’t do everything ourselves in a scene. We have to trust we will have some help. The moment you realize your team of improvisers are listening, caring about your idea and it space to grow and thrive is unique and energizing. It’s hard to describe. It’s like watching a team of people making space for some animals trying to cross the road. It’s kindness and inspiring when everyone works together.

And, I understand it probably sounds goofy when I say, “I wish you were there.“

After an Improv Playground, I usually can’t go to sleep for a couple of hours because I’m so fired up. It’s very life-giving. If you want to join us for an Improv Playground I teach every Tuesday and Thursday. You can check out the calendar here. Have a great day!

Improv Opening Paragraph

How many times would you suspect I've rewritten this intro?

Place your bets!

I don't really have any prize to award, but imagine that satisfaction if you guess right?!

Ok.....final call. One time? Two times? Three times?

Close! Five times. I've actually rewritten this intro five times....and that doesn't even take into consideration how many times I've reimagined things in my mind.

A little ironic considering this is an improv blog that talks about things like, "living in the moment," "being present," and trusting your choices.

I'm not exactly leading by example....but....honestly....I am leading by cautionary tale 😂

Any of the five previous intros could have worked, but I kept doubting myself and erasing them. Keyboards are great, but they're also a little dangerous. Changes are so quick. I don't have to flip around a pencil and erase everything, or use white-out on a typewriter, or cross something out with a pen. I just hit backspace, and all my work disappears, and no one ever knows it existed. It’s all gone. In seconds, everything you wrote and shared could disappear. I don’t have to build a firepit, gather would, crumple paper, grab a lighter, build a fire and burn the pages.

I can just hit backspace. Keyboards are not great for the anxious at heart. That hits strangely. There must be a lot of keyboards that have destroyed a lot of ideas.

Sure. Sure. I 100% understand some things aren't worth printing, and should be deleted, but how many ideas got deleted before being explored? I know this morning 4 of mine did.

But, being aware of my previous intros also lead to know…and this meta analysis on improv starts. Welcome to the self-referential blog post on improv idea beginnings. Originally, this blog post was going to be about the improv game Freeze, and how to give yourself more options when jumping into a scene.

But, after deleting so many intro paragraphs I thought, "That's strange. Improv is all about yes, and, and I'm saying, no to everything I'm creating."

If this post feels fractured, it's because I'm a little excited (and on my sixth cup of coffee. I know. Maybe to much). As improvisers, we're actors.... but we're also writers and directors. We're writing the script and immediately handing it to our actor self, while our director self also blocks the scene. It's a lot.

And, on top of that, we're going to be critical of our scene starts and all our other ideas? Sorry. No. That’s too much. Those are far to many things happening at once. We need to clean house. One of those four hast to go. The actor, the writer, the director or the in-the-moment critiques have to go. Maybe I suggest….. we kick out the critiques.

That in-the-moment critque, that judgement, changes everything. It makes you doubt your script, your delivery, and your position onstage. Is anything good enough? Well, it could be, if you give it a few seconds.

On the fifth intro, I decided to write ABOUT the intro. I wrote about writing, and how quickly we can now make things disappear. And, improv isn't about leaving something out, or erasing something or pretending something didn't happen. It's about respecting the script I'm writing, and you're writing, and merging those two into something new. It's not about a perfect intro or conclusion. It's about discovering a conclusion that NEVER existed without the two of us working together. Or, I guess I should say the six of us working together: my actor/writer/director teaming up with your actor/writer/director.

If you've gotten down to this point...thanks for reading! I appreciate you taking the time, and I hope it makes sense and helps you improvise. Does it make sense? Do you have any questions? Please let me know in the comments!

I hope you improvise with people who listen to your ideas onstage and want to build with you. And, I hope you listen to your own ideas, and see where they go too.

If you ever want to join a great community of improvisers from all skill levels, join me at an Improv Playground session.

Improv Like These Dogs

I love a good cat video or dog video. Hell, send me a video about an ant on a mission to cross a sidewalk and I’ll be there….but give me a second to grab some popcorn.

And, while most videos are the “oh that’s adorable, and it made me happier for a couple of seconds and now back to my regular life” variety, some animal videos have a bigger impact.

Like….this one!

We should all improvise like these dogs. They are all so happy to experience the slide AND they seem just as excited (maybe even a little more so) to watch the others come down. I loved the dog cluster at the bottom of the slide. It says something. It’s also about the group.

See where I’m going?

You’re smart….I think you do.

As a performer, we should absolutely love our own ride, our ideas and our contribution to the scene. We should be proud of what we offer in an improv game. But, like these dogs, after making our offer we should spin around, and wait excitedly for our scene partner. What will they say? How will they respond?

We have two options in an improv scene. We can choose to care or we can choose to be indifferent. When we care about what someone else says, they’re more willing to trust and open up with more ideas because they know they’ll be heard (this applies offstage too), and that leads to more creative and unique scenes. When we’re indifferent our improv scene partner will close down, because, well, what’s the point if their partner chooses to ignore the ideas?

It's a choice. We always have that choice onstage. Like those dogs. You know which dog I think about? It’s the dalmatian. He was wagging, ecstatic, and watching at the bottom of the slide, welcoming all the other dogs as they came down. Sure, maybe some other dogs raced to the top to slide down again, but the one that stood out was the dalmatian.

And, just like everyone on Instagram hitting Like on this video, our audience watching improv can choose to like or be indifferent. What helps them Like a scene? It starts with the improvisers choosing to like the scene. Sure, I enjoyed watching the dogs slide down (Like), but I LOVED watching the dogs care about eachother (Like button times 100). When we care about our scene partners and what they say, it magnifies the value, the fun, the joy…for everyone! Performers and audience.

The audience will feel that, and your team will feel that. It doesn’t matter if it’s a show, improv drop-in or an Improv 101 class. Everyone notices how excited you were to care, and the next time you step onstage you’ll find everyone will want to step onstage with you, because they’ll feel safe, supported…and ultimately more creative.