A LIFE AT THE IMPROV
EPISODE 017: A LIFE AT THE IMPROV
Some of my most important principles for a richer, healthier creative life were learned on a dusty little stage learning, and performing comedy improv. Improv is all about taking the unexpected and the uncertain and rolling with them, turning them into something great. So is creativity. And life. Let’s talk about it.
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FULL TRANSCRIPT
In my second year of college I found myself on my belly flopping around the floor of a small theatre stage doing my best imitation of sizzling bacon and thinking “this might just be the best moment of my life.” I had joined a comedy troupe and this was my introduction to improv and a set of rules that I still consider among the most important life-lessons I’ve ever been taught, principles that I think hold an important key to not only being more creative but more comfortably human. I’m David duChemin, and this is A Beautiful Anarchy, Episode 17, A Life at the Improv. Let’s talk about it.
Music / Intro
The rules of improv are not complicated and, depending who you ask, they vary, but there are 4 that are universal, guiding principles that keep things on track and keep the actors moving headlong into the funny rather than those long awkward moments that foretell a comic death. That’s not to say they guarantee success, no improv actors in the world have been spared the crickets in the audience that signal a wrong turn into the territory of the unfunny. Risk and uncertainty is the stage on which improv plays out, as it is in life. But these rules give the best shot at working well together and moving in a collaborative direction, rather than getting derailed and I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to see improv as a metaphor for everyday creativity.
The first rule in Improv is to agree, to say "yes.” You’ve got to go with things, not fight against them. Saying “no" shuts things down. When I say, “I’m an airplane!” your job is to acknowledge this and move forward with me, not to hijack the scene or try to bend it to your will. Your job is to work with what you’ve got and see where it leads. The moment you say “No you’re not, you’re a turnip" you shut me down and take what little momentum and the spark of an idea I might have had and you snuff it out, or make it very difficult for me to change directions. Off the improv stage, agreeing with what is plays out as accepting it and seeing where it leads. It’s a willingness to begin in a place of observation and receptivity. Creativity takes place in the very real world of what is, and works within our very human limits and constraints. In fact the very best of our creativity is a response to what is, not a denial of it. You can fight the universe on this, but it won’t change it, not that way. If you do want change, that too begins with acknowledging what is, and re-directing the flow.
You do that with the second rule, which is to say “Yes, AND…” You’ve got to contribute. Yes, it’s important that you accept the direction already in play, but it’s just as important that you add to it, that you bring something different, something distinctly you to the table and you see where that combination leads. The creative life is not for the passive. You do not need to wait for permission to engage life and contribute to it, and you won’t add a thing to it if you only say yes, if you merely acknowledge things with no desire to question them, improve on them, add to them, or combine them. To do improv well you need to take the wheel now and then, and have the courage to steer things in a new direction. It’s what makes improv fun - the unexpected and the juxtapositions, the energy that comes from knowing you’ve just been handed a live grenade and you’ve got to think and act quickly.
The third rule is “Make Statements.” The easy way out of an improv scene is to ask a question. Asking: “You’re an airplane? Why are you an airplane?” contributes nothing, and only throws the grenade back into the lap of the other players. It offers no new possibilities, changes no direction, and takes no risks. I’m a big fan of questions. I think good questions are the key to an interesting creative life, but you’ve got to be willing to see where those questions lead and in improv that means taking responsibility for choosing a direction and exploring exactly that. That’s what creates the tension and the juxtapositions we find so funny. Questions are helpful as they guide us to interesting new possibilities, not as a cop out or a means of procrastinating. Differently expressed, this third rule could be stated, “See where the question leads.” Take a chance. Run with it. Have fun with it.
Taking a chance is made easier by the fourth rule: there are no mistakes, only opportunities. You don’t stop a scene in improv and say, “Wait, cut! This isn’t working. I meant to say “I’m a dog” but it came out as “I’m a log.” Can we start at the top, please?” I know, it’s not the funniest example, don’t judge me. But that’s improv. Sometimes things just come out of your mouth and only later you think “Oh, man, if only I’d said this other thing instead.” Well, you didn’t. You can’t unsay it. But you can recognize that in saying it you’ve created new opportunities and possibilities. This fourth rule recognizes that often the very best stuff comes unexpectedly, it relinquishes a level of control and surrenders to forward motion. It acknowledges that what is true of improv is true of life: that we’re all just making this up as we go. It accepts that dwelling on so-called failures, and not seeing accidents, mistakes, or missteps as opportunities is not only unproductive but can carry a heavy cost, one that would require mental and emotional resources that are better spent moving forward than looking backwards.
We are all making it up as we go. The creative life is improvisation not a scripted play. It wasn’t written by someone else, a set of lines and directions to which we are obligated. But thinking it is can really screw us up. Believing that we’ve missed our chance, that one mis-step or forgotten line can take us out of the game and sideline us. Thinking that one set of decisions might be right and others wrong, can be paralyzing. Seeing it as improv, and knowing that it’s the so-called mistakes that are the funniest, that provide the most opportunity to be creative, is tremendously liberating. There is no director in improv, no one in the wings to whom we can look to see if we’re doing it right, or well. There is only the sound of the audience, and they are either with you or they aren’t. And in those times when they aren't it’s never hard to win them back.
Here are a few other things I learned in improv, lessons that have helped me navigate the daily creative life. The first is that ego has no place on the stage. You could always tell when someone came on the scene too sure that their way was the right way, determined to get the laughs themselves and not to share them. There was a distinct lack of flexibility, no matter what you’d say they would keep trying to shoe-horn the scene into their idea, instead of the other way around. Nothing is less funny than watching someone try to will the inevitable into a direction it just won’t go. Being tremendously creative and productive means letting go, allowing the thing you are making to be more than you, to surpass your initial plans for it. For it to become something all its own. The creative life does better with humility than with ego. I don’t mean you can’t be confident. I don’t mean you can’t believe in your vision and your ability to work toward it, I just mean, well, it’s not always about you. Not only you. And acknowledging that we don’t always know where it’s going, and being willing to hold the steering wheel with a lighter touch often leads to better places, and a more fulfilling creative process. You can always tell when an improv actor is more concerned about your opinion of them than about the sketch itself. I think it’s true of whatever we make. The more we try to make it about ourselves, the more in our own way we get, and the less it will be about the bigger things to which the world will respond and celebrate.
And that brings me to what is arguably the larger lesson in all this, and maybe it’s connected to our ego, I don’t know, but I do know that the more seriously you take yourself, the less enjoyable improv is, both for you and the audience, and isn't enjoyment, at least in improv, the point of it all? Perhaps it’s the point of life too. The more seriously we take ourselves, and the more precious we are about it all, the less willing we will be to take the chance of looking foolish, the less risks we take, the more we stay in our comfort zone, the less magic we will experience and create. As Winnie the Pooh so wisely observed, this is too important to take so seriously. The moment you step onto the improv stage you’ve got to hold it all with an open hand, see what’s going on, and add your own piece to the thing. You’ve got to take responsibility for your moment on stage, without ego or agenda, and be willing to risk the so-called mistakes, knowing they’re the price of entry into the unexpected and the possible. And yes, the audience might laugh at you, but isn’t that the point?
Thank you for joining me. If you’re enjoying A Beautiful Anarchy I’d be so grateful if you’d leave a review on iTunes or where you choose to listen. If you’ve got comments or questions I’d love to hear them, you can get in touch by sending an email to talkback@abeautifulanarchy.com. I publish A Beautiful Anarchy 3 weeks out of 4, but you can get your fix on those 4th weeks by subscribing to On The Make, a monthly kick in the creative pants sent straight to your inbox. You can subscribe by going to ABeatifulAnarchy.com, scrolling to the bottom of the page and telling me where to send it. I’ll also send you a copy of my short eBook, Escape Your Creative Rut, 5 Ways to Get Your Groove Back, and every month I’ll draw the name of one subscriber to whom I’ll send a signed copy of my book, A Beautiful Anarchy.
Thanks so much for being part of this. Until next time, go make something beautiful.
Music in this episode: Acid Jazz (Kevin Macleod) / CC BY-SA 3.0