You Do...Improv?

If I say the word "Improv," what does it make you think of? If I had to guess, it would be either the show Whose Line is it Anyway or that time your friend convinced you to go to some college show you never want to think of again.

In general, I would say most people are deeply ambivalent towards improv and only have a fleeting idea of what it involves, except that scenes are made up on the spot, which could be why people have a hard time appreciating it.

"You just make stuff up? Pffft. I could do that..."

Well, let me go back about five years.

I had no experience with improv, save for the Whose Line show, which I absolutely loved. Their ability to come up with characters and plots on the fly, not to mention the amazing music skills of Wayne Brady, left me hypnotized. But I never actually had the thought, I want to do that!

It was something I admired, but nothing more.

Then, something happened to change that. Steve, a writer friend of mine, who had also taken a week long workshop at Second City, said he wanted to do a workshop on how to Improv Your Writing, and wanted my help as an assistant. I thought this to be both preposterous (as I had always assumed improv was strictly a performance idea) and entertaining, so I said yes.

Not only was his workshop brilliant for writers, but it gave me my first chance to actually DO improv, and I was hooked.

Do you remember when you played make believe as a kid with your friends or siblings? There was that rush of creation, on-the-fly world building that I used to believe could only happen in the mind of a child. Though, it always ended in arguments about who was the cop and who was the robber, and a lot of "I shot you's" and "No you didn't's." In improv, it is all of that, but without the arguing. And the shooting.

Getting up in front of strangers and performing a scene where I had no idea what was going to happen was both nerve-racking and exhilarating, but it felt similar to writing a rough draft of a story, but instead of composing my story on a computer screen, I was doing it on my feet and with my voice. Not only that, I was creating with another person in real time. We became a living rough draft.

But I found that another aspect of improv really appealed to me. The "rules" or guidelines of improv held a kind of Buddhist mentality to them; a way of looking at the world that emphasized agreement, flexibility, and being open to new opportunities. The prevailing idea in improv is the concept of "Yes." More specifically, "Yes, and..."

"Yes, and..." is the idea of always accepting an offer given to you by your scene partner(s), and then adding to it—a kind of constantly repeating reciprocation of ideas. Wow, that sounded really pretentious.

In a world where we are met with so many no's...

No, you can't drive 75 in a 55.No, you can't live at home the rest of your life. No, you can't quit your job to be a professional gamer. No, you can't do that in here. It's a church. No, no, no, no.

...it is nice to hear a yes for once.

So many no's stifle our creativity and the inner us. Improv fosters an environment that supports ideas of any kind and doesn't punish mistakes. For a middle-aged wannabe writer that was working a dead-end job, that was magic to my ears.

The next time he had a workshop, I jumped at the chance to be involved again, and again, and again. At each one, I got more and more laughs, something I hadn't realized I missed since my days as the second-rate class clown. He did more and more workshops. We started filming them. Then, he did the workshop at our state's largest writing conference. It was a hit. Everyone absolutely loved doing improv and watching others do it, too.

Over the years, I have tried many hobbies, and there are some I truly enjoy, but I loved improv as if it were my past-time soulmate; it was meant to be. Something about my broken psychology, my outlook on life, and my lack of a social filter made me a natural for the form.

Alas, it seemed I wasn't able to find a job that would allow me to do improv. I would have to be content with just doing the occasional workshop. Luckily, a local theatre director had hired my friend to do a six week improv boot camp where we would teach attendees the basics of improv and improv games, and I would be able to go for free as long as I helped.

It was a small dream come true. We improv'ed, we laughed, and I had the time of my life.

Too bad it couldn't last. Or could it?

Improv Boot-Camp