Improvising Life

I'm back to this blog after a long hiatus. And probably because my improvisation muscle was weak. I became too planful in this space, and lost my ability to build on the unexpected, the core capacity of improv. Improvising may be the central skill we need in this period of unimaginable change.

Last night I went to an improv class at Quick Thinking Improv
..I've meant to do this for years, but finally located the class and went because I wanted to check it out for a client. As is so often the case, what I'm working on with a client is a growth opportunity for myself.

Walking into the space, in a fourth floor studio on west 18th street, among mostly younger actors, was itself a stretch. It was one of those discoveries you make above the ground floor in New York. We were a motley assortment of people -- I stuck out no more than did the two twenty something and timid Brits on vacation, who the instructor began to refer to as "the girls," or the computer geek by day turned actor by night.

The instructor took us through a series of games and exercises, each one elevating the extemporaneous skill you needed. As he introduced each one my sense was --"I can't." But then you're up there, paired with another fumbling improviser, working on a scene like the following:

One person walks onto the stage from the side and says, "hi George (say--you make up a name), I've got to tell you something." The other player replies "Hi Dr. Jones,(you make up a title, like doctor, or president) what is it?" And then the scene unfolds -- I became a doctor speaking in hushed tones about a cure for cancer; my partner, a stranger until then, was my inquisitive student, and I told him conspiratorially "the cure was all in the mind." The scene went on for a minute or two more. The instructor didn't rate us that highly, but that wasn't the point, of course. (There I go, even as I write this, away from the improvisational mindset, which at its core is about "yes, and.")

You are trained to build on, rather than refute, whatever comes your way. That's how scenes emerge out of nothing; that's how you collaborate with a complete stranger; that's how you access your creativity.

Another core rule is that you don't ask questions. They call this "giving the gift." You hand an idea to your partner, trusting them to take the next step with it. But you have to put something into the mix, even if it is a total flop (I ended up telling a story about monkeys eating peanuts in the zoo, but realized I wasn't sure if monkeys actually eat peanuts!)

The other thing I realized, though this was a re-realization, is how games unleash creativity for me. It is the rules that allow me to get out of the box --they give me permission to be creative. They allow me to say yes and leap into the unknown.

What allows you to improvise?
What gives you permission to step into the unknown?
How many times today can you say "yes and" rather than "yes, but"?

Try an improv class -- you won't be sorry.