Drop-In Improv
The moment the instructor says, "Form a large circle..." my heart skips with that same little bit of adrenaline you get when you're on a rollercoaster. That little taste of excitement when I was younger would always make me excited and giddy. But not tonight. On a Monday night in a small shop in downtown Tustin, at 52 years old, I am frozen in my chair and don't want to get up. There is this inner voice that says, "What the fuck are you doing here? You're going to mess up, don't do it!" Another part of me thinks I should just leave and go home when nobody is looking so I can forego any potential upcoming embarrassment.
Dropping in
The improv drop-in classes usually open up with everyone getting into a large circle around the room, and it begins with basic movements and short-form games to work on our communication skills. It can be just about anything to get you talking, moving, and connecting. One of the most famous warm-ups is "Zip Zap Zop." For one of my first sessions, the warm-up consisted of each person saying a verb in front of our names and adding a motion or twist to it as we repeated and passed the exercise around the room, pointing at others to repeat the name and say their own.
Terrifying! Right? I thought so, too. Isn't it amazing how something so simple can cause so much stress and anxiety? Simply saying my name in front of a group of people who don't know me can be downright terrifying. If you knew me, you wouldn't think I had this inner fear that was so dominating, but growing up, I learned to hide my fear well with the coping strategy of being so loud and boisterous that it masked the fear well. And because of that, my presence was almost always rooted in keeping you at a distance. The strategy was this: If I could verbally shut you down first or cause you embarrassment, then I would be less likely to have it happen to me. That was the theory. So, in the end, I got the intended results. People were afraid of me as much as I was of them, and it ensured that nobody would spend too long in my presence.
Improv works on some basic ideas:
"Yes, And...": Accept what others have said ("yes") and then expand on it ("and") to keep the scene moving forward.
Listening: Pay close attention to your scene partners to respond genuinely and build on their ideas.
Being Present: Stay in the moment without planning too far ahead. React to what's happening right now in the scene.
Support: Improv is a team effort. Help your fellow performers shine by supporting their ideas and making them look good.
And... This is where the fear comes in for me. The idea that I have to operate within the rules. If I am reading them right, these are four basic things I have never been able to do well: Accept what others say, really listen, be present, and be a part of a team. The "class clown" side of me wants to act out, but sitting here and watching how others give each other space and allow others to move into the scene is surprising to the rebel in me. So, I continue to watch.
Gonna need a bigger boat
The room is filled with about 24 people, and they couldn't be any more eclectic. Young, old, Hispanic, white, black, Asian, male and female. It's clear that a majority come frequently and there are a lot of regulars. As we set up the first scene and a small group of people get on stage, I am still frozen in my chair and can't imagine getting up on stage any time soon. The instructor sets the scene and explains the roles that each person will take, and as the improvisers act out the scene, I am even more surprised at how supportive everyone is when someone messes up. I almost can't believe my eyes. In classrooms, boardrooms, streetcorners, and barrooms, if someone stumbles or chokes, the sharks always go in for the kill. In improv, it's more customary to laugh it off and even high-five on occasion and move on. Failure is part of the experience and, in its own way, celebrated as part of the experience. It's not chum for the water, and no sharks are lying in wait, ready to attack.
I have always been a huge fan of comedy, and improv is something I have always wanted to do since I started watching a T.V. show called "Who's Line is it Anyway" (The English and American Version). Something you are probably familiar with. The idea is the same: you get some prompts, you act out scenes on the fly, and somehow, it is all entertaining. A certain magic seems to exist in the process, and the results can sometimes be truly hilarious. Or the scenes can fall flat like they sometimes do. Either way, the excitement of not knowing what's coming next is compelling, and the unexpected can be exhilarating for the audience. But! For me, sitting in a chair preparing to go on the stage and be the person who does not know what is coming next is scary.
After the warm-up exercises, the instructor asks for six people to take the stage and sets a scene with some basic rules for a short-form improv. The scene plays out as each person contributes to the scene (hopefully adhering to the basic ideas outlined above), and it's funny in some areas and some not, but overall, it's entertaining for the participants, the people waiting (the audience) and even the instructor seems to be having a good time. For a moment, I almost forgot that I came here to participate rather than just watch, and I almost relaxed for a second. The scene ends… "And scene!" Six more people are called to the stage, and I am not going to be one of them, as I seem to be locked in my chair. I am now lost in my thoughts about not getting up on stage. This is something I have wanted to do, but I can't seem to do it.
Then, another scene ends
The last group is called to the stage, and I am one of them. I couldn't be more intimidated. Like the new kid in school, I don't want to speak, and I dread messing up, but it goes well. Well, it went well enough that I didn't get booed off the stage or asked to leave. Which was never a realistic option, but it was always possible in my mind. I take my seat again and ask myself, "What did I come here for?" It certainly wasn't to sit in the back row and wallflower my existence. I came here because I was attracted to the idea of being on stage and stepping out into the unknown to try something new. To have fun and enjoy my time. I came here to push myself and get out of my comfort zone. I wasn't doing any of that. If anything, I was doing the complete opposite. As I sit there trying to listen to the instructions for the next scene, I answer the question, "I came here to do improv!" as I consider what that means, I come to the conclusion that I was here to learn how to fail better. We all fail. Every single one of us. It's how we internalize it. The meaning we give it. The time we spend ruminating over it and the impact it has on our decisions moving forward.
So, I came here to fail. That means that I must risk looking stupid and foolish and play the fool by giving myself permission to truly "be creative" and enjoy the moment without the additional fear and worry that usually comes in everyday life. In improv, I can let go and learn to play within the guardrails of fearless play and creativity while celebrating the failures and moving on. It's refreshing.
After the instructor finishes the directions for the next scene, they say, "Can I get six people on the stage, please." with some hesitation, I stand up and make my way to the stage. I am not last, and I feel proud of myself for stepping up to be the first group. The scenes end, and we sit back down and watch the next group.
Since I began attending improv this last year, I am surprised at my ability to participate and the fear that no longer exists where it was once so prominent and affecting. Over the last few months, I have found areas in my life where I can "summon my inner improv" into areas of work and relationships. In a recent meeting with a client, I found myself pivoting to a new topic with more ease as I embraced the change and adapted quickly. In the past, I may have stopped the meeting and said, "I am not prepared..." etc. But I found myself more amenable and able to move forward without skipping a beat.
New choice…
What areas of your life do you think you'd be more successful in if fear was no longer holding you back? Have you ever wanted to try improv, or maybe you are seeking something to push your own boundaries? I can't recommend trying improv any higher for breaking out of your shell. There are classes and local places everywhere, and there are even Zoom groups that meet up online. For me, it started with a simple Google search, and I picked a date and went. It was hard initially, but I just decided I was going to go no matter what, and I am so glad I did.
Until next time... "And scene!"
““Oh God, divine master, who in the great drama of thy life and death hath shown us the eternal purpose of living, grant us to play our part on this our earthly stage””
