I'm a Failure... and Proud of It!

Okay, peeps, as 2011 comes to a screeching halt it's time to reflect on our achievements of the past 12 months and ponder what we'd like to accomplish in the next 12. I don't know about you, but I was freaking awesome in 2011!

• I made far less money than I wanted to, and I would probably need a raise in order to reach the poverty level.
• I sold fewer than 50 copies of my book. 99% of them were to family members.
• I failed a non-Held2gether improv class in such spectacular fashion that the teacher told me I was a "liability to anyone who has the misfortune of being my scene partner."

Yeah, that last one still stings a little.

But I actually wasn't being sarcastic when I said I was freaking awesome. Delusional, perhaps, but not sarcastic. You don't fail this big without trying some scary shit. Working for myself, publishing books, taking classes that push me way, WAY out of my comfort zone... 2011 was a year of going big and, in some cases, failing big.

You know what I learned? Failing doesn't mean a damn thing. You don't die. Well, usually not, anyway. You learn things about yourself, regroup, and try again. Or try something else. Somebody famous said if you haven't failed at anything, you haven't really tried. And I say, if you haven't really tried, you don't know what you're capable of.

It's never too late, I swear. If you don't think you're brave enough to really go after something, welcome to my world. I didn't even know that was my problem when I first started taking improv classes - all I knew was my world seemed to be shrinking and I needed to push myself out of the comfort zone that had become a prison. Of course, what I discovered is that improv is both a metaphor for life and a miraculous tool for living life well, and thanks to the skills I learned and the encouragement I got in H2G classes, I became brave enough to go after stuff... and brave enough to fail. And life is so much more fun and interesting as a result.

Naturally, I hope you succeed beyond your wildest dreams in 2012. But I also hope you're willing to fail. Happy New Year!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Be As Glamorous as Marilyn Monroe!

You know how some famous celebrities change their names because Norma Jean doesn't sound as glam as Marilyn or whatever? Yeah, I did that. Only, you know, not to Marilyn. Duh.

People think it's unusual to change your name, but I actually know several people who have done so - some legally and some just in daily usage. Richard of H2G Friday Company fame told me a hilarious story about a woman of his acquaintance who had a name that was both cumbersome and unattractive. Somehow during a conversation, she let it be known that she had changed her name to that strange moniker and Richard, ever tactful, replied, "You chose that?" Anyway, that's not really my point.

I was just thinking about labeling in improv and how names can be labels. It's all well and good to call everyone some variation of Frank, but if you call someone Dr. Franklin, that gives a little more information about the character. Names like Missy, Buffy or Bubbles give a different impression than Prudence, Harriet or Constance. Bubba is not going to give the same information as Harrison. Using Mr. or Mrs. So-and-So tells us a little something about the status of the characters.

Yeah, that's pretty much all I got today: Labels = good.

In any event, I changed my name to Sonnjea a long time ago, and now I'm totally glam. Need proof? Come check me out at Last Laugh Saturday in January or watch our hilarious videos.

Oh, okay, fine. Marilyn's more glamorous. But I am kinda blonde.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

We Like You! Do You Like Us?

Damn. I was sure our Held2gether Facebook page would get to 500 likes by Christmas. Turns out, I'm wrong sometimes: We ended up with 496 at the end of Christmas.

I'm not complaining or anything. That's a lot, especially considering we don't buy likes or do weird advertising aimed just at getting people to click on our page for no good reason. We're really happy that the 496 people who like H2G actually like H2G and don't just like the page because they think they'll get a free cookie or a reindeer butt magnet. Yay!

Chances are, if you're reading this blog, you probably already realize how awesome we are and have liked our FB page. You probably even follow Held2gether on Twitter. If so, thank you! We would have no reason to exist if it weren't for our fans, and we really do appreciate you all more than you know!

As a token of our gratitude, we already have shows planned for you to kick off the New Year right! The first Last Laugh Saturday is Saturday, January 28th. I know, I know - that's, like, a whole month+ away. But we wanted you to have something to look forward to as a reward for tackling 2012 with gusto and determination! Cuz that's how we roll, people.

So go ahead and finish off the fruit cakes and egg nog, write your list of New Year's Resolutions and organize your gifts into their appropriate categories: Can't Wait to Use It; Might As Well Use It Since It Was Free; Re-Gift ASAP. We'll be practicing yes, anding and adding information and justifying, so when you need a little break from the real world we'll be ready for you!

Oh, and if you haven't liked us on FB yet, could ya? Thanks! Here's the handy link to our Held2gether Facebook page.

Yeah. Turns out, I'm also a little needy sometimes.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Politically Correct Holiday Greetings from H2G

If you've seen a Held2gether improv show in Long Beach, you know we are not always politically correct. I realize that probably comes as a shock to many of you, considering our polite, mild-mannered demeanors, but every once in a while we're not on our best behavior. I blame Darren; he taught us everything we know.

Anyway, in terms of PCness, I do sort of like the "Happy Holidays" concept because it's more inclusive than greetings that are specific to Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Arbor Day, Boxing Day and New Year's. But I don't take offense when people offer me a greeting for a holiday I don't celebrate - I mean, as long as people are wishing me a happy, merry or good whatever, I'm really not picky about the whatever. For example, I've been wished Happy Chinese New Year before. I think it's obvious that I am not Chinese (at least not in the same way that Lisa is Chinese), and yet I don't jump to any conclusions that the person offering me such a greeting is trying to belittle my beliefs or imply that their New Year is any better than my New Year. Even though it totally is - I mean, Chinese New Year has dragons and shit; we just have Dick Clark.

You know I have a point, however obscure I attempt to make it. My point is that improv is about accepting, and that's what I was thinking about when I started this post. You learn to accept what other people offer - ideas, information, gifts, holiday wishes - without judging the offering or the person doing the offering. You accept it, and then you add some information or wishes or whatever of your own, and pretty soon you have the makings of a great improv scene or, you know, a happier world.

Held2gether: improv for life wishes everyone a joyous holiday of their choosing. Or, as I like to say, Feliz Kwanzukahmas.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

I Can Haz Sarcasm?

Like many cats in literature (Garfield, that I Can Haz cat and dozens of others I can't think of at the moment), I tend to be sarcastic. No, really. I know that's hard to believe, but it's true. It's unfortunate because sarcasm doesn't work in improv. There are a couple of reasons why that's so, which I will now examine for you because I have to write something or Darren will wonder what exactly it is I do here.

Sarcasm can be direct: You couldn't find your way out of a paper bag or indirect: What a great girlfriend YOU are. Sarcasm, though usually harsh in its intent, actually relies on subtlety of language.

And therein lies the problem. Improv has no time for subtley.

You have three minutes to have a scene. You need to spell out the who, what, where and what's happening between you on this big day, and do it in a way that's clear both to your scene partner and to the audience.

Particularly with the ironic, indirect version, you run the risk of confusing everyone in the room because you are essentially saying the exact opposite of what you mean. If your partner doesn't pick up on the subtlety, you are now doing two separate scenes. If the audience doesn't pick up on the subtlety, they aren't really watching the scene that you think you're doing. (FYI, that's problematic. I'm just sayin'.)

Anyway, turns out, there's a lesson here too. Being sarcastic is really a passive-agressive way to say what you want to say without actually saying it. Why not just be direct? It's quicker and doesn't have the mean undertone. Luckily, if you have a tendency to be sarcastic, H2G improv classes in Long Beach can help you, um, NOT be. Communicating clearly and directly is a skill that most of us can use a little more of, and improv's a fun and hilarious way to do it.

At the very least, it can help you be sarcastic only when it's appropriate. Like, you know, when people tell you that the Broncos won a game and you say, "Wow! I have been waiting for that news and now I can die happy."

Theoretically speaking, of course.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv and Riding a Bike

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

That's me breathing a huge sigh of relief. There's an improv class tomorrow night, and by my calculations, it's been 2.5 weeks since I last did improv.

Not that I'm counting.

That's not a long time by normal people standards, I realize. But given that there was a period of time over the summer during which I did 13 improv activities in 11 days, 2 1/2 weeks is a bit of a dry spell for me.

I'm curious to see if I still remember the rules, or if I fall into a black, bottomless pit of questions, denials and Crazyville information.

Oh, okay, that's not gonna happen. The thing about improv is, the skills you learn get so ingrained because you start to constantly use them in real life, that you're not gonna forget them in 2 1/2 weeks. Or 2 1/2 years. Like riding a bike, you know. Once you learn that skill, it's a skill you possess forever, unless you fall off the roof and hit your head or something. But that almost never happens.

So if you've taken a class, but it's been a while and you think you don't remember anything or that you don't "have it" anymore, that's just crazy talk. Sign up for a Held2gether improv class and see how much fun you have riding that bike again!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Want to Climb Up On Your Roof? Take Improv.

My roof is leaking, so I clambered up there to see if it was something I could fix. You know, in the rain. It's not so stupid - I have a higher-than-normal single story roof, but it's flat and therefore relatively safe. Once you climb up and over the parapet wall surrounding it, that is.

Oh, for the love of bunnies, why is she telling us this?? I know, I know. I can be a bit trying at times. Ask anyone in Held2gether. They've all had more than their fill of me by now.

I have a point, I promise. See, the thing is, I'm afraid of heights. And, as luck would have it, it was something I could not fix. So I climbed up there and - more traumatically - back down again for nothing. But for whatever reason, I felt I had to try and so I did.

I didn't want to. But I learned in improv classes how to face my fears. People take improv classes for an infinite number of reasons, from wanting to improve their acting to wanting to be less shy to wanting to get a better job. I was of the "less shy" variety, combined with a desire to push myself out of my comfort zone. I'm not plagued by a myriad of fears or anything, but I do have a few and I wanted to learn to not let them get in my way.

Improv taught me that. You can't plan in improv. You have no idea what's going to happen, and you have to keep your mind open to the limitless possibilities. That means you can't be thinking, "Crap! What if I do it wrong? What if nobody laughs? What if they laugh at the wrong things? What if they hate me? What if, what if, what if?"

You learn in improv that you can't control the what ifs in life. And that, by not focusing on those negative what ifs, you are free to listen, contribute, do more. I'm not going to say you'll never fail again once you've taken improv; real life includes failing, peeps. But in improv, you learn not to be afraid to fail. You learn to go big... and that sometimes that means you fail big. So what? You get up and you go big again!

Facing your fears and doing what scares you makes life a lot more interesting. If you'd like a more interesting life, take some Held2gether improv classes.

Just, you know, be careful on the roof. It's pretty high up there.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

I Can Make Your Bedrock

I'm sorry, I thought I would have a lot of extra time at the end of the year since we're done with classes and shows until the new year, but I'm swamped with work of both the Held2gether type and the non-Held2gether type, so blogging had to take a back seat all week.

But never fear! Just in time for your weekend shenanigans, I have a helpful post for you. At the drop-in class the other night, they did a game based on cheesy pickup lines. I wasn't there because I was evidently channeling a 95-year-old woman (or Viet) and was asleep before 7 p.m., but I've played it before. And I've heard cheesy pickup lines before.

Stop laughing. I meant I've heard people say them. You know, to other people. None of whom were me.

Anyway, my lameness aside, I am here to help. So just in time for the weekend, I'm going to list for you some of the awesome cheesy pickup lines people posted on the Held2gether Facebook page, which you should really "like," by the way. Hope this helps with your weekend mischief. You're welcome.

• Baby, I'm no Fred Flintstone, but I can make your Bedrock.
• My friend and I have a bet you won't take off your blouse in a public place.
• Come here pussycat. I have wet food in my pocket. [disclaimer: that was actually a suggestion from a cat]
• Your legs must be tired because you've been running through my mind.
• F@#* me if I'm wrong, but is your name Grizelda?
• Wanna f@#*?
• I think I've just died because I see an angel in front of me!
• I'm not ugly, you're just sober.

See, I've told you a million times that improv will literally help you in every area of your life. Even picking up dates in bars. If that's not improv for life, I dunno what is!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Why 2011 Was the Best Year Ever

I was going to write a sappy post about the year winding down and all that Hallmark-y crap, but then I remembered this is supposed to be a funny blog. Sometimes I forget that there's a time and a place for everything. No, really. I am occasionally inappropriate.

Uh, so anyway, the year is winding down and all, but that's no reason to get all sentimental and weepy about resolutions you didn't keep and goals you didn't achieve. Why not focus on the positive? Here, I'll help! Cuz that's just how I roll, my friends.

1. You're reading this blog, correct? Awesome! That means you are both a) literate and b) not severely visually impaired. Yay you!
2. It also means you either own or have access to a computer or handheld digital device, which would imply you are not currently incarcerated or being held for ransom in a dank warehouse. Again, kudos!
3. It would also seem to indicate that you know about improv comedy, which demonstrates your superior intellect and excellent taste. Super! And finally,
   
4. Odds are you are neither married to nor in the process of divorcing a Kardashian. Nice!

Great job on making 2011 a huge success! If you want to make 2012 even better, take some Held2gether improv classes. Get out of your comfort zone, improve some skills, make new friends and have a ball. Who knows, maybe you'll even meet that special someone.

No, not a Kardashian.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Commitment: The Key to Good Improv and Successful Arm Wrestling

Andy, Co-Dependent took offense yesterday when I proclaimed that only three people of my acquaintance could likely beat me in an arm wrestling contest, and he was not one of the three. Realistically, I'm sure he's right - I am, after all, a girl.

But the whole arm wrestling conversation triggered a long-forgotten memory that I will now share with you, as I am wont to do from time to time. At some point, I will try to draw a parallel between my memory and improv, as I am also wont to do.

My dad used to be quite a character: your typical beer-drinking-smack-talking-macho-redneck fireman. Once he was at a drinking establishment of ill repute when another patron got in his face about something. One thing led to another and, rather than resorting to fisticuffs, the two decided to settle their differences by arm wrestling.

My dad was 6 feet tall but lanky and wiry; the other dude was more muscular. Of course you see where this is going. Dad won. Then he won again. And again. The more the big dude lost, the madder he got until he foolishly bet my dad his motorcycle. My dad already had a motorcycle, but when he beat the guy for the final time, he took his bike anyway to "teach him a lesson." Oy.

The other guy seemed to have the size and the strength, and he definitely had the swagger. But my dad had the commitment. When he did a thing, whether it was arm wrestling drunks or putting out fires or building a house, he committed 100% to that thing until it was finished.

And now for the improv connection. (Fair warning, peeps: you don't wanna bet me your motorcycle that I will be unable to tie something - anything - to improv. You'll be cursing me all the way to the bus stop).

I've yammered on about the importance of commitment in improv, and I'm sure you realize by now that there is absolutely no successful improv without commitment. Stay in it, don't bail, don't judge yourself or your scene partners, don't laugh, don't do the wink-wink-nudge-nudge thing, don't leave the location. Fortunately, commitment isn't as hard to learn as you might imagine, and we teach people how to do it every day. We'd be delighted to teach you*, too, so register for a Held2gether Intro to Improv Comedy Class today... and don't procrastinate, because some of the January classes are already full-o-rooni, people!

*Disclaimer: Held2gether does not teach arm wrestling skills. We do not advocate arm wrestling with drunks in bars or elsewhere. Gambling is illegal. Motorcycles are dangerous. Always wear a helmet. Not all firemen are of the beer-drinking-smack-talking-macho-redneck variety, and we did not intend to imply otherwise. May not be combined with any other offers.


By Sonnjea Blackwell

You Have to Practice So You'll Know What to Do if Tim Tebow Learns to Pass.

I mentioned on Facebook yesterday that I'm looking forward to Held2gether presents Wreck the Halls, our last improv show of 2011... but that I'm especially looking forward to rehearsal. Some people assumed this had something to do with alcohol. Honestly, people, I don't know where you get these ideas.

First of all, I feel the need to explain "rehearsal" in the context of improv. Improv is totally made up on the spot, with no way of knowing what the audience will suggest or what your scene partner(s) will say based on those suggestions. So we clearly can't rehearse scenes. Duh. That would be called acting.

But in short form improv, there are a variety of games (you've probably seen 'em on Whose Line) like New Choice or Playbook or Foreign Movie that we play, and it's helpful if the improvisors understand the games before showtime. Just think of rehearsal as football practice: you practice the fundamentals so when the big game comes along, you know what you're supposed to do. You still don't know if the other team is going to blitz, or if Tim Tebow will suddenly learn how to pass, or if your kicker will make the easy 38-yard field goal, so you can't preplan your specific moves. But you understand the game, so you'll know what to do in any of those situations.

Anyway, the reason I look forward to rehearsal so much is because everyone tends to be slightly amped for the upcoming show, but still loose and relaxed because there's no audience. That combo of high energy with fearlessness and the joy of playing with people you know and trust leads to great improv. If you eff up in rehearsal, so what? But precisely because you're that bold, you probably won't eff up, and it's so much fun to see people playing that confidently.

That's how it is in Held2gether improv classes - the level of trust and encouragement makes everyone feel comfortable being bold and creative and adventurous, and pretty soon you're addicted to hearing people laugh and applaud. Which is a pretty good addiction to have, if you're gonna have one.

Um, there's no moral to this story, actually. Just sign up for an improv class already, would you?

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv: More Important Than Collages

I think I may have mentioned it before, but in case you missed out on this useless tidbit about my life, I have a degree in art. You know, the drawing/painting/making-collages-out-of-found-objects kind of art. And without getting into a whole big thing about art and society and the Dark Ages, let me just assure you that art of every kind (ie, painting, acting, writing, photography, singing, composing, improv-ing, etc.) is crucial to a civilized society.

Of course, improv is more crucial than the others. Duh.

What? You think I can't justify that statement? C'mon, people, you know how I roll.

All of the arts fulfill important needs of both the artist and society as a whole: personal self-expression, social commentary, calls to justice, propaganda and of course, entertainment, to name a few of the biggies.

But where improv differs from the other arts is in the skills needed to create it. The technical skills I learned for drawing and painting apply specifically to drawing and painting. They may even help me see the world differently. But they don't help me function in the world differently.

Improv is the only art whose skill set helps people function better in their day-to-day lives. Listening, agreeing, contributing, trusting, working well with others, accepting and committing are skills needed in improv - and, if I'm not mistaken, come in pretty handy in life as well.

And, like the other arts, improv is totally a learnable thing. I'm not being disingenuous when I say that this whole mystique that makes people think arts can't be learned is total crap. You learned how to make coffee, didn't you? Then you can learn how to paint a coffee cup. Or compose a song about coffee beans growing in the sun. Or improvise a scene set in a Starbucks in Times Square.

Whether you want to try improv because it looks fun when Drew Carey and his pals do it, or because you want to push yourself out of your comfort zone, or because you think some of those skills you learn in improv might actually come in handy in the real world, Held2gether improv classes are the answer. January classes are enrolling now!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some glitter and macaroni waiting for me...

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Shows, Classes and a Little Begging

Hello and welcome back to our blog. We took a little break to eat turkey and insult bad drivers, but we're back now with lots of exciting improv-y information.

No, really!

First of all, Held2gether presents Wreck the Halls this Friday night at the LAST First Fridays of 2011. Don't miss out - Elise's Tea Room has awesome teas and tea-room-type snacks, and of course, the improv is pretty darn amazing as well. This show features the H2G Friday Company plus a few guests, including yours truly.

Nextly, it's time to register for January classes. We've got two Intro to Improv Comedy classes, an Improv Comedy Level 2 class and a Long Form Improv class beginning right after New Year's. All the details, including prices, dates and pre-requisites are on the website. They're already filling up, so don't procrastinate!

And lastly, what Darren really wants for Christmas is 500 Facebook fans. If you haven't already, can you please go to the H2G Facebook page and click Like? Otherwise, I'll have to knit him a hat or something. Thanks!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv and the Traffic Circle

I was thinking about survival of the fittest the other day. It stemmed from people who couldn't navigate the traffic circle and my uncharitable thoughts about how miraculous it was that they'd somehow survived long enough to have gotten a driver's license.

What? I know it seems like I don't have a bitchy bone in my body, but that's just my brilliant façade. Ha! And you thought I couldn't act!

Right. So as has been known to happen when I have thoughts, I sought to validate said thoughts by Googling. In this case, I Googled "Darwin Quotes." And this was the first hit I got:

It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.

Now, I'm not going to swear that Darwin said this. Just because Google claims it's so doesn't make it so. But it explained how people who can't manage a gas pedal, a brake pedal and a circle have somehow managed to live to adulthood: They may not be strong, and they're apparently not bright. But they can evidently adapt.

Change happens constantly, and it's not that pleasant or comfortable sometimes. But our survival - emotionally, if not literally - largely depends on our ability to adapt to the changes life throws at us. Maybe it's job changes, or relationship changes that you struggle with. Maybe you find it difficult to deal with never-ending technological advances. Maybe you just wish they'd bring back Gilmore Girls already.

Whatever it is, improv classes can help. I'm not making that up. The very heart of improv is learning to go with the flow. You have no clue what's going to happen in a scene or exercise, and you learn to be okay with that. It's a little scary at first, but after a while, it's exhilarating. You learn that you can adapt and go with the flow and take everything in stride, and you don't freak out or die or stuff.

And once you get the hang of it in class, you start being more adaptable in the rest of your life. So you don't bat an eyelash when you get a new boss. You aren't as skittish about dating. You learn to text and operate all of your remote controls. You realize Modern Family is pretty damn funny.

I can't swear it'll help with the traffic circle, but honestly, peeps - it can't hurt.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Computer Programming or Unicorn Sculpting?

I get bored easily, which is why I no longer have a "real" job. After working at the same place for a decade, doing the same paperwork-y thing day after day, I thought my head would explode. If I had known about improv back then, maybe I could've kept my job without any cranial pyrotechnics. But without improv as an outlet, my creativity was wilting, my personality was best described as über-bitch and I was always hungry.

Oh. Wait.

Anyway, now I do a little of this and a little of that, which usually means a little writing and a little graphic designing. But sometimes it means a little programming. You know, like for computers and stuff.

Stop laughing. Turns out, I'm half nerd (or, as Nate says, a Nerd Muggle). I'm one of those people who, when I took those career aptitude tests in high school, scored about the same across the board for creativity vs. logic, humanities vs. science, blonde vs. brunette, etc. Which means I'm decent at a lot of things, but not great at anything.

I went the humanities route, getting a degree in art. Excellent career choice, btw. But when I need to do something techy like write HTML, I get all nerdy and into it. It's kinda like a big ol' Sudoku puzzle, and I love using the parts of my brain that don't often get a workout.

(Clearly, I'm not adept at using the parts of my brain that lead to having a point. Sorry).

Ahem. The point is, maybe you don't want to write computer code for fun. Or maybe you do, but you don't want to sculpt a unicorn. The good news is, Held2gether improv classes in Long Beach are designed to help you use all the parts of your brain. You learn to listen, react, make connections, let go, communicate, laugh and be silly. Yeah, the laugh and be silly parts of your brain probably don't get enough use these days, and you don't want them to atrophy! So come take an improv class with us in the new year.

It's more fun than Sudoku. No, really.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

The Roaring '20s, Improv-Style

Here's how Held2gether long form improv works: We do three separate beginning scenes, each based on different audience suggestions. At the end of the third opening scene, the players can then "clap in" to initiate entirely new scenes related to one of the beginning scenes.

It's super confusing at first, but most of us who have done it are totally in love with the format. And the audience loves it even more! It's like watching a totally unscripted, unrehearsed, off-the-cuff play, which is kinda incredible. Especially if you've met us. Sometimes it's hard to believe we can order breakfast without assistance.

Okay, that's probably just me.

Anyway, here's another little taste of long form for you: the 2nd set of Snow Globes & Shotgun Weddings, which was a huge extravaganza we did in August at the Sky Room Wedding Chapel. In this set, the audience gave us a historical era: the 1920s. And in case you wondered, yes, everyone in the Held2gether long form class was an expert in history. So it's totally historically accurate.

What? Lola was a showgirl, wasn't she?



We'll be doing some short form this Saturday with The Magic Meathands in LA. Come out and see us, and we'll try not to make a mockery of history.

"Try" is the operative word there.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

How to Get Your Improv Fix Without a Class

Everyone is emailing and texting and FBing me about how sad they are that this week is the last week of "official" Held2gether improv classes for 2011.

Um, hello? Darren and I calculated a while back and concluded that I have most likely taken more improv classes in 2011 than any other person in Long Beach, so I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that I am just a tad more of an improv addict than pretty much anyone. Thus, I've also calculated that the H2G improv hiatus is going to be much harder on me than it is on you.

What? I've told you before, this blog is all about me.

Since I'm not one to suffer in silence, I have a plan for surviving until the next batch of classes begins the first week of January. First of all, I will be at all of the drop-ins. Next, I'll be at the two remaining Held2gether improv comedy shows of the year. I'll also be doing "I'm a..." whenever the opportunity arises. With or without booze or other improv peeps. I'll "yes, and" whenever possible. And I'll randomly tell people I'm talking with "New choice," making them finish their sentences in a variety of different ways until I like the ending.

So don't be sad! Sign up for a January class now, while there's still room. Then, be creative! Improv is for life, after all. Find ways to use your improv skills in your life, then report back to me. I'm dying to know how your bosses like the labels you give them!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Show AND Improv on YouTube. You're Welcome.

Okay, so we're doing a show this weekend with our friends The Magic Meathands. Look, it says so right here:

We had sooo much fun the last time we performed with them. Oh, and more importantly, the audience had fun too! We'll be playing in a much cooler venue this time, the Mary Pickford Studio! So come on out and have an awesome Saturday night with us!

In the meantime, here it is! The long-awaited video for Snow Globes & Shotgun Weddings. Enjoy!



By Sonnjea Blackwell

No Muppet Improv!

BFF and I saw an improv competition recently that included a team brandishing muppets. I know there's some really bad stuff going on in the world these days, but muppet improv is an issue I feel needs to be addressed now, before the situation gets out of hand.

In case you wondered, I like muppets. I liked them on Sesame Street when I was 5, and I like their movies now. But there is a time and a place for muppets, and the time and place is not in an improv show.

For one thing, muppets don't do spacework. And they can't make eye contact. I'm just sayin'.

There were a couple of people walking around the stage with muppets on their arms, and some of the character traits seemed to be in the muppets, while the rest were in the humans. So each of the muppet-people was kind of like two characters in one. One of the players had no muppet. That distracted me - did he lose his muppet? Did his troupemates not trust him with a muppet?

If I'm watching a muppet show, I don't want to see the puppeteers. When the people manipulating the muppets are in the scene, I can't fully believe in the muppets because the people are right there. And I sure as hell can't believe the people, because they're just crazy bastards who conduct their conversations through inanimate fuzzy monsters.

As Lisa has pointed out, I am an improv purist (purist is a nice word for snob). And the purist in me thinks the fun of improv is making everything up out of thin air, without sets, props, costumes, makeup, scripts or muppets. I suppose you could argue that muppet improv is a matter of opinion and personal preference.

You'd be wrong, of course. But you could argue that.


By Sonnjea Blackwell

Held2gether Is an Improv School, Not a Kardashian

This whole social media thingy seems like it might just take off. No, really. And I'm pretty sure the internet whatchamacallit is here to stay, too.

Crap.

See, our whole reason for existing at H2G is to bring the joy and skills of improv to everyone. That's why we call it "improv for life." And what better way to do that than through the magical powers of cyberspace and social media, right? Right!

We've gotten oodles of new students who found us by Googling, Yelping, reading this blog and/or Facebooking. A few found us through the magical powers of unicorns, but that's a different blog post.

So, what's the problem? Well, I'ma tell you.

It turns out, I am just one girl. I know it may seem like there's a bunch of people inside my head, and I'm not disputing your armchair diagnosis. But in terms of getting the Held2gether name out there, my voices and I can only do so much. The thing with social media is, it can't be static. You have to add information constantly in order to be relevant.

And the problem with an improv school is, we are not a Kardashian. Okay, that's really not a problem. I just mean, we can't create hype and attention by planning elaborate weddings to little-known athletes we intend to divorce in eleven minutes. We can only create hype and attention by doing what we do, the best way we know how - and hoping you'll share it with your friends and family.

We love social media because it's accessible to everyone, which is exactly how we feel improv should be. If you want to help us make sure that everyone has a chance to learn to express themselves in a fun, safe, supportive environment, please take a moment to play with us from time to time on the social media platform of your choice: comment on and/or share a blog post; "like" our FB page, post some stuff on it and/or ask your friends to like it, too; write a review; tag yourself and your friends at our shows.

Thank you! I'll be back with more profound improv = real life thoughts next time. Unless I have to rant about bunnies or Star Trek instead. I just never know which voice is gonna get to the keyboard first.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

I Can't Help It If My Idea Is Better Than Yours

Some of you who know me as a person know that I'm not always all sweetness and light. I know it's totally hard to believe, but it's true! Sometimes I actually get a little cranky.

Usually my crankiness has to do with hunger. What? I'm a pretty simple girl.

But other times my crankiness has to do with not getting my way. I wouldn't say I'm a control freak; I simply like to know what's happening and when. And where, of course. Oh, and if at all possible I like to be in charge of it. I don't think that's asking a lot, personally.

So you can imagine my dismay when I learned that improv requires you to let go of your agenda. Um, what? My agendas are awesome, people!

But after a little practice (okay, a huge, ginormous amount of practice), I learned that holding on to my agenda strangled my scenes. That's because a scene can't unfold naturally if one (or, god forbid, both) players are determined to steer it in a particular direction. Sure, you can have a vague idea at the beginning of a scene, like we're hicks or what have you, but if you are hung up on getting your way, you are killing your scene.

Oh, okay, fine. I see my own point. Being hung up on getting my way in real life makes me miss out on all the potential wonderfulness of other peoples' ideas. (I said "potential" on purpose; I'm still not too sure about some peoples' ideas). Trying to be in control of every situation is not only pointless, it's also stressful and pretty much sucks all the fun out of life.

The good news is, after a few improv classes with Held2gether, I learned to let go of my agenda. You know, most of the time. If my agenda involves food, though, it'd probably be a good idea to let me have my way. Just sayin'.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Tips: No Character? Be a Blender!

It's been a rough week. What? I know it's only Tuesday; I don't judge you when you're having a hard week, do I? Part of the problem is that there's very little improv happening this week. Anyway. As usual when I'm having any sort of mental meltdown, I vented to Lisa who was all nice and non-judgy and everything and wished me a day filled with "sunshine and rainbows and unicorns." Which reminded me: unicorns!

I know some people (you know who you are) don't think unicorns exist. Um, whatever. But in a recent H2G improv show, Andy, Co-Dependent was labeled a half human/half unicorn mutant, and he played a very convincing half unicorn. In fact, I had trouble believing he wasn't a pure-bred unicorn, that's how committed he was.

I've recently been a human/otter mutant as well as a human/gerbil mutant. And what I've learned from playing and watching these mutants is that it's easier to take on a character if it's some kind of animal. Or a blender. Duh. That's because your brain isn't all judgy the way it gets when you try to be a fully human character: "That's a British accent? Really?" Or "Uh, hello, hookers have bigger boobs." Or "Seriously, again with the ditzy chick?" You can probably think of one or two things about your mutant character that sort of make them that critter - like my otter was breaking open abalone on her chest, and the gerbil was gnawing on everything and everyone and had little rodenty hands. The audience picks up those cues and gets it, and it works. And it's really easy to commit because your brain doesn't judge everything you do as a unicorn or a blender or whatever, because it really doesn't know any better.

Naturally, the goal is to have your brain not be judgy of your human characters as well. And of course, Held2gether improv classes are a big help. But depending on how well-developed your self-judgy instincts are, they may take some time to overcome. So in the meantime, why not give your human character an animal trait? It'll take your mind off your bad British accent, and audiences love seeing people with quirky characteristics.

Now I'm gonna gather up some sparkles to take to the unicorns so they can spin me a rainbow. Cuz that's just how they roll.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Tips: Fearlessness, Yes. Sparkles, No.

Turns out, among my many improv analogies, I somehow overlooked the improv-is-like-being-a-trapeze-artist analogy. I'm sorry! If you're mad, please blame Lorna for not taking a trapeze class sooner and inspiring me with it. (Thank you, Lorna!)

Of course, there are a couple of differences between improv and trapezing. First of all, obviously, you don't have to wear sparkly, spangly costumes to do improv. In fact, we really prefer it if you don't. Darren has a tendency to get distracted by shiny objects and if all the students are shiny, his head will probably explode. Second, improv requires very little upper body strength. And finally, there is no net in improv.

But there really are many similarities: both require fearlessness, a high degree of trust, the ability to work well with your partner, balanced give-and-take, and a desire to entertain people, among other things.

If you think about it, denial in improv is akin to a trapezer refusing to catch his partner as she comes flying towards him. In both cases, one partner has tossed something (either information or their own body) to the other, only to have the something unceremoniously dropped. Obviously, in a trapeze act, if one person fails to catch the other, the show is pretty much over.

Guess what? In improv, the scene will also come screeching to a halt if one person drops the other's information: if you deny it, or fail to react to it, or just flat-out don't bother to listen to it. You don't want to drop your partner to their messy and untimely demise, so do your best to catch them!

Of course, if you don't leap, you're in just as much trouble as if you don't catch. Nobody wants to watch a trapeze show where the trapezists just swing back and forth and back and forth and back and... It's B-O-R-I-N-G. Somebody has to f*ing leap, or there's no show.

In improv, you have to be brave and leap, also. Make a bold choice. Make an important discovery, confession or admission. Have a huge emotional reaction. Otherwise, you're just two people swinging back and forth and back and forth and back and...

Lorna said that the most important coaching she got during her trapeze class was, "Don't let your brain get in the way." This is also the most important coaching for improv. Scenes go fabulously when the players aren't in their heads, wondering, thinking, trying to be clever, being afraid, being cocky, judging, keeping score, strategizing... Your brain is used to being in charge, but to truly be in the moment and in sync with your trapeze partner or improv partner, you have to shut off your brain and connect and trust.

I'd argue that DON'T LET YOUR BRAIN GET IN THE WAY is also the most important coaching for life. What would you do if your brain didn't conjure up all the reasons you might fail? What would you learn? Who would you talk to? What would you wear, say, eat, sing, try?

Held2gether improv classes in Long Beach are great at teaching you how to get out of your head and fly with a safety net of incredible encouragement and support. Classes start the first week of January. Register before December 1st for discount pricing.


By Sonnjea Blackwell

Starbucks On Earth

Andy, Co-Dependent had to miss class this week because he's traveling. But he texted me his contribution for a "location" suggestion and, being the lazy student I am, I used it rather than coming up with a suggestion of my own.

And now, being the lazy blogger I also am, I'm going to use it to make a point. You can thank Andy when you see him.

In improv scenes, the more specific you can be with your information, the easier it is for the audience to visualize the scene. After all, you have no costumes, no props and no sets, so the audience has to work very hard to imagine what's going on. It's the improvisor's job to make it as easy as possible so the audience doesn't hurt their brains.

Often the audience will already be tired out by coming up with suggestions - and it's hard enough to get them to offer suggestions that are more specific than "Ireland" or "Earth." So if you get a suggestion like "Starbucks," count yourself lucky!

Andy's suggestion last night was "Starbucks in Times Square." You might initially think, Jeez, Starbucks is the same whether it's in Times Square or Bakersfield. That's the thing about Starbucks - it's just the SAME.

And yet, that added bit of information is what the whole scene was based on - cold, impatient New Yorkers and tourists demanding hotter coffee while they waited for the ball to drop on New Year's Eve, a fact that pitted one Starbucks employee against the other.

Last night, the improvisors had Andy to thank for that added bit of location information that elicited very specific information. But usually Andy isn't in the audience, so you can't count on any kind of suggestion being that specific. So you have to make it that specific yourself, and do it fast. If you label your beach Miami Beach, that's going to mean something different to the audience than Jersey shore. Where are you on the beach? In a cabana? Lying on the sand? Standing in line at the concession stand to buy churros? Disneyland is too broad; Main Street USA is better; trapped in the boat on Pirates of the Carribean is awesome. Try to give the audience a location that they can reach out and touch. And remember, if you can't really picture where you are or what you're doing, the audience won't be able to, either.

Naturally, Held2gether classes, which are located in a large, well-lit auditorium with a stage and hardwood flooring that's been scuffed up by the tap dancing ladies, in the middle of Recreation Park in Long Beach, can help.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

We Love You When You Shut Up

I found this photo on a FB friend's wall today, and I am reposting it here as a reminder to myself.

Obviously, it's my job to talk about improv. I'm not going to shut up and start posting totally blank articles on this blog. That would be lame. I'm reminding myself to shut up when I'm doing improv. So here's that reminder:

Dear Sonnjea,

We've talked about silence before, but since the Happy Bunny's advice for yesterday was to shut up, I'm going to go with it. I'm already a day late! Far be it from me to anger Happy Bunny.

Sometimes there's a tendency to feel like you have to get out all the information in an improv scene in one fell swoop. And of course, you do want to be adding information. But in real life, you don't say things like, "Well, Martha, my sister, here we are at the DMV again because you have to renew your license and it's going to be difficult because you're 97 years old and you can't see very well and I have an eating disorder."

Or do you? No. You don't. Nobody talks like that.

Labels and information are important, don't get me wrong. But give and take is important, too. Let sister Martha have a line! As long as you and your scene partner are listening to each other, the information will come out much more naturally if you each add small bits, layering the information as opposed to dumping it all out with a cement mixer.

Oh, and another thing. In the real world, if you say, "Why Martha, you smell lovely! That Febreze mouth wash is working wonders for your halitosis!" and Martha doesn't respond within a nanosecond, you don't keep on yammering. You give Martha that kind compliment, and then you stop. It was a wonderful compliment, and there's an excellent chance it's going to take Martha a few seconds to fully absorb it. And then, when she has, she'll respond. Give your scene partner the same window of opportunity. Just because they haven't responded in the time it takes you to take a breath doesn't mean they're not going to. They will if you let them.

And finally, dear Sonnjea, try to remember that just because you like giving information doesn't mean it's always the best information that could be given. You're in an improv scene with someone, and their information is just as important as yours. So please. Shut up.

Sincerely yours,

Sonnjea

By Sonnjea Blackwell

So Many Choices!

Improv is all about making choices: choose to agree, choose to lose, choose to know each other, choose to care.

In the span of 30 seconds, you need to figure out who you and your scene partner are (and who you are to each other), what you're doing and where you're doing it. Then you have to figure out why today is special.

That is a lot of information to come up with based on a suggestion like, "They're trying on hats."

But making the right choices in those few seconds will get you pretty far. Want me to break those choices down for you? Well, I choose to anyway cuz I have to write something.

1. Choose to Agree: You know this. Agreement is the #1 rule of improv. First line out, wins. If you think you're a ballerina but your scene partner speaks first and says you're feeding giant squid, you are feeding giant squid. And let go of your agenda - you are not a ballerina feeding giant squid, okay? Also, remember what you've said during the scene and don't say things later to negate what you've set up. The audience will remember.
2. Choose to Lose: This works in two ways. One: if an argument or contest develops in the scene, someone has to lose. If no one loses, the scene loses, which means the audience loses. So bite the bullet and take one for the team. And two: scenes involving status are hilarious, so choosing to be a low-status person in the scene (ie, being a loser) can give you and your scene partner something to work with.
3. Choose to Know Each Other: It's much harder for you and your partner to have anything meaty develop if you're strangers, or even relative strangers. If you're on a date, make it at least the 3rd date. If you get stuck in a transaction scene, be a regular at the store and know the clerk well.

No, I didn't forget Choose to Care. It's my topic for the week, so it gets its own special paragraphs and everything.

There are a few reasons why it's important to care about what's happening in an improv scene. First of all, audiences take their cues from the performers. If you don't care, they won't care. So when your scene partner gives you some information, make it matter... a lot. Remember, there's no "kind of" in improv. You're not kind of sad or kind of angry or kind of happy. You're devastated, or enraged or f*ing giddy. Then the audience can get behind you.

Second, not caring is equivalent to a denial (see "Choose to Agree" above). If your scene partner says, "It's time I told you the truth, Brenda. I'm having an affair with our dogsitter," and you just blow it off or take it totally in stride, you've cheated your scene partner and the audience. That was big information! We want to know what that means to you! And your dog!

Third, nothing can save a floundering scene better than an emotional change. So if things are going nowhere, show you care about the last bit of information - no matter what it was - by bursting into tears. Or laughing hysterically. Or confessing your love. Don't worry if it doesn't seem to make sense; just being in an emotion will help you find the information to justify that emotion.

Obviously, learning to make choices quickly and decisively is a skill that will benefit you in every area of life. So choose to come to a Held2gether improv class and we'll choose to make it the most fun you've had ever.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv and So-Called Limits: Pshaw!

There's an improv exercise called Spotlight. The game is very simple: the group forms a circle, one person steps into the center of the circle and belts out a song and, as quickly as possible anyone from the circle taps that singer out and begins singing a different song that was inspired by the previous song. So "Singing in the Rain" could spawn songs about rain, or weather, or songs from musicals or songs by the same singer, etc. Each singer should only be in the circle for at most a few seconds before someone taps them out and starts another, somehow-related song.

I have always had a love/hate relationship with this game.

The game is about commitment, not singing. You sing the song, off-key, mangled words and all, with all the abandon of singing alone in your car. The people in the outer circle sing along or clap or whatever to support the singer. I love that part - the singing along part.

The part I hate is coming up with a song that's related to the song being sung. As I'm typing this now, I have had probably a hundred song-leading-to-another-song ideas pop into my head. But when I'm hearing a song, it's practically impossible for me to think of the melody of another song. My brain doesn't seem to multitask in that way.

But when you teach improv classes, you sometimes have to force yourself to do things that you're not so good at. When we do Spotlight with the Intro to Improv Comedy class, it often takes a little while for people to get brave and start jumping in. Which means that the ones who are brave could be left in the middle singing for a half hour. So I have to save them, whether I can think of the tune of a song or not. It's not so hard for me to make the logical connections: Manic Monday => Monday, Monday => Ruby Tuesday => Easy Like Sunday Morning, etc., but I usually can't think of the tune.

Too bad for me. I have to jump in and sing it like I mean it anyway. So I do.

Which brings me, finally, to some kind of point. It turns out that, with the proper motivation, I can force myself to do things I always thought I couldn't do. I've started to apply that logic to my own classes - I think I can't do [choose from any number of things], but when I imagine that I'm teaching that particular thing, I can force myself to up my game and do it. Maybe not spectacularly, but better than I've done previously.

Maybe that's not the motivation that works for you, but there's a good chance there's something that could get you to push past your "limits," in improv and in life. Try and find out what works for you, and then use it to your advantage. After all, the so-called "limits" are really all just self-imposed mental constructs. And since we made them, we can un-make them.

Naturally, H2G improv classes can help. With the bravery and commitment, I mean. Not with the singing. You're on your own with the singing.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

I Know Everything. No, Really. I Totally Do.

Okay, okay. Enough with the Justin-Bieber-mocking. How 'bout I actually give you some information on information instead?

The whole instant expert thing in improv can be really fun or a total nightmare, depending on how you feel about spouting nonsense. I am a big proponent of it, so I like being an instant expert. But there is a difference between spouting instant expert nonsense and just vomiting bizarro information, and it's kinda important to know the difference.

First of all, experts all have one thing in common, and that's that they love to share their knowledge about their area of expertise. So be bold and sound absolutely sure of your "facts." Then make sure the information is about the thing you are an expert in. If you've been labeled a surgeon and you're all bold and everything, but you just start talking (boldly) about the nanoscepter intersecting the hypotenuse, we don't know what that means or what that information has to do with anything in your scene. But if you tell your nurse or the other doctor, or even the patient, "We're going to have to use the nanoscepter to intersect the hypotenuse in order to stop the patellar hemorrhage," we still don't know what it means, but we know that the patient is seriously f*ed up, and you are just the person to fix him.

Another hint to giving good instant expert information is to use specifics. Throw out statistics: "The nanoscepter procedure has restored lateral brain function to 43.2% of patients." "Over 16,457 people work at Target world-wide, and of those, 87% are functionally color-blind." "Valentine's day began in 1527 a.d. in Egypt, when Pharaoh Tentwilo left his mummified heart to his queen after his untimely death." It doesn't matter if you don't know what happened in 1205 b.c. or what the atmosphere of Venus is or how to cook beef wellington. If you commit to your expert character and your information, we'll believe it.

Finally, remember that not all experts are scientists or doctors or engineers. If you're labeled a hillbilly, porch-dwelling redneck, you are still an expert! Every character, in fact, is an expert in his or her own way. The hillbilly, porch-dwelling redneck may know everything there is to know about chiggers, or moonshine or the mating habits of bayou crawfish, and some of those details should come out in the scene to help define the location, the characters and even the characters' relationship (crawfishing buddies, for example). The scene isn't about those details, but the details add necessary background to the scene.

The real trick to being an instant expert in any field is trust. Just trust yourself and don't judge the information that pops into your brain and comes out of your mouth. Easier said than done when it comes to knowing how to prepare for an arctic expedition or a Justin Bieber concert, I realize. But that's where Held2gether improv classes come in. H2G classes have helped 99.87% of students achieve total improvisational stellardom with a statistically insignificant incidence of judgeocity and three orders of magnitude more giggledom.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Would You Lie to Me?

Here's a little known fact: improv can help you lie better.

Okay, look. I'm not advocating lying. And in most ways, improv promotes more virtuous traits, such as honesty, listening and teamwork. But there is a time and a place for everything, and sometimes you gotta make shit up.

Let's say, hypothetical speaking, that you told your friend you couldn't go to the Justin Bieber concert with him because you were feeling ill. (Just the prospect of going to a Justin Bieber concert makes me feel a little queasy, but that's another blog post.) Then, instead of tucking yourself into bed with Nyquil and The Breakfast Club, you go to your favorite bar with some non-Bieber-fever-peeps. Naturally, as Murphy's Law would have it, the Bieberite shows up after the show to find you, not sick at all and downing martinis with abandon.

We'll ignore the fact that there's a good chance you're not concerned about maintaining a friendship with a legal adult who attends Justin Bieber concerts, and pretend that you do want to keep this relationship. WTF do you say to redeem yourself?

You could go with the obvious - and not at all believable - miraculous recovery story. "Dude. I took the Nyquil, and I felt better. But by then you had already left for the concert and there was no way to meet up with you." Um, lame.

Or you could use the skills you learned in H2G improv classes and become an instant expert: "Oh, Bieberite, I'm so glad you're here so you can tell us all about the show! You know, I was so devastated to miss it that I was determined to get better in time to join you. So I went on the internet and Googled typhoid fever remedies, because that's what I had. Anyway, it's often fatal but one thing that seems to put typhoid into remission is the combination of dim lighting and distilled potatoes. I didn't have any potatoes at home, but since vodka is made from potatoes, I figured a martini would work. Anyway, it's because the low light causes your corneas to constrict, while the vodka increases endorphin exoplasmic recession, which results in the spontaneous introspection of the typhus virus."

At this point, the Bieber-peeper will start to wonder if this might be true. There is so much factual-sounding information, that it seems unlikely you could make it up. But don't take any chances. Make sure to finish strong. "I felt better almost immediately and could have met you in time for the show, but unfortunately, typhoid fever is highly contagious for 7.75 hours after it has gone into remission. The only way not to start an epidemic like Typhoid Mary is to remain in a dimly lit area with plenty of distilled potatoes so that everyone who comes into contact with the carrier will have the necessary immunity to stave off the disease. As much as I wanted to see Justin sing, I couldn't in good conscience subject him - or you - to the grim possibility of death by typhoid fever."

Thanks to your improv skills, your friend is now thanking you for being so considerate in thinking of Justin's well-being instead of being mad that you bailed on the show.

Of course, on the off chance that you don't have friends who try to drag you to pop concerts, you can always use your instant expert skills to impress a date, convince the boss that you're smarter than the other guy who's going up for the same promotion or explain to your neighbor why mowing your lawn every week is actually bad for the environment, the economy and U.S-China relations.

You're welcome.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Committed to Commitment

Along with information and agreement, commitment is one of the three pillars of improv. On any given day, I could argue that any of those is the most important. Today I say that commitment is the most important.

Yes, I'll tell you why. Cuz that's just how I roll.

Let's say you have a 2-person scene. If one person denies something, it stops the momentum and the scene basically has to start over. But as long as both people aren't in denial mode, it's still possible to make a scene work. Same with information: if only one person goes to Crazyville, the other person can still justify the weirdness. If both people are spewing randomness, then you're screwed.

With commitment, it only takes one person to eff up a scene. As soon as one person bails, you have no scene - because you can't do improv alone.

I was in a non-H2G class recently, and we were doing an exercise involving relative status in the scene. After connecting with my partner and getting a hoity-toity vibe from her, I inferred that I was the low-status person in the scene so I became very small and meek and said, "I'm sorry we ran out of gas, Donna. I know I was supposed to fill the tank, but I forgot. I'm really sorry." Perhaps not a brilliant start to an improv scene, but at least I gave her a name and some clear information. She looked at me for a second, then spun around to the non-Darren teacher and said, "What is she doing? I don't know who has the higher status!"

I was beyond startled, because as we learn from the very first Held2gether improv class, you don't bail. Like Jester told Maverick, "You never, never leave your wingman." Sure it's a class, and class is about learning, but by staying in the scene and working it out herself, "Donna" woulda learned more than she did from the non-Darren teacher telling her, "Well, she's acting very meek and apologetic, so it seems like she's given you the status in the scene. And by the way, don't ever bail like that again."

To be fair, abandoning a scene outright is very rare, even in a classroom setting. But there are other ways of bailing. Like making it clear to the audience you think your scene partner's information is idiotic. Or starting an argument with your scene partner because you don't like where their information is going. Or just having no energy or enthusiasm for the scene, or your character, or the information. Any of these forms of bailing also make it impossible for the committed partner to make the scene work because, essentially, you've forced your partner to try to do improv alone. You're mocking the scene, or you're trying to steer the scene, but you're not playing with them in the scene.

I actually think commitment may be the easiest of the pillars to adhere to, once you make up your mind. Agreement and information both rely to a certain extent on your brain functioning properly while you're in a scene - and sometimes brains have a mind of their own. But commitment only requires, um, commitment. Just decide that, no matter what, you're not gonna leave your wingman. Then don't leave. Period.

Sorry, I have to leave. It's time to go watch Top Gun.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Great Improv Show!

By all accounts, Last Laugh Saturday last Saturday was "the best show H2G's ever done," "decent," "funny, but not as funny as Snow Globes," "f*ing brilliant," and/or "meh."

So what I'm saying is there is no such thing as "by all accounts" in improv.

What constitutes a great show, anyway? Is it a show in which the performers are funny and don't break any improv rules? (Good luck with that, by the way). Is it a show in which the performers are funny in spite of breaking the rules? Is it a show that the audience is into, regardless of the funniness and/or rule-breaking-ness of the performers?

These are not rhetorical questions, by the way. I really want to know.

A teacher once told me that you can't trust the audience because sometimes you can give 'em total crap and they love it, while other times you could do the best improv ever done and they'll be bored and Face Booking on their iPhones the whole time. That's because audiences, like other groups, have a mass mentality which occasionally has nothing to do with what's going on around them - like f*ing brilliant improv, for example.

So, what's an improvisor to do? First of all, have the intention to give the audience the best show you can. Then do improv the way you've been taught - and the way you know you can - to the best of your ability. When a scene works, enjoy it, but don't dwell on it because you have to be in the moment for your next scene. When a scene tanks, enjoy it, but don't dwell on it because you have to be in the moment for your next scene.

Yes, I said enjoy it when your scene tanks. Don't try to tank it, obviously. But when one does tank, just enjoy the badness of it. Enjoy the fact that, even though this scene sucks, you get to do improv. In front of an audience. Which may just be the awesomest thing ever. And as nearly as I can tell, what makes a good show is one in which the performers do their best not to break the rules, where they commit even (or perhaps especially) in scenes no one can save, and when they are so obviously having the time of their lives that the audience can't help but be drawn into the joy.

At least I think so.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Turn Off the Spew-o-Meter

Sorry for my absence. If you've been to the Held2gether website, you can see I've been busy posting new classes for 2012 and the last couple shows for 2011. So it's not as if I've just been sitting around twirling my hair or worrying about my fantasy football league or whatever it is you think I do.

Excuse me, but does anyone else find it disturbing that there are constantly Groupons for stuff like Botox and liposuction now?

Oh, and FYI, I so know who Howie Long is.

This gloom is making me feel gloomy myself. Like maybe I should dye my hair black and do my makeup like Elvira or something.

Right. I'm trying to make a point, and that point is not that I'm certifiably insane, thank you very much. My point is, only three-year-olds and stoners spew random information stream-of-consciousness style like this. As we learn social skills, which takes some of us much, much longer than others, we learn to filter our thoughts and exercise give-and-take in our conversations. We listen to people, and then we respond to what they said - with a logical rejoinder, not some random factoid that no one really cares about in this particular context.

I'm always yammering on about how improv classes can help in real-life situations. But this is a case where real life can help your improv. I've seen eleventy gazillion scenes where one person says something like, "Dammit, Frank, you're judging my potato-peeling skills again! I want a divorce." And for some reason, that information doesn't register in the other person's head and they say, "I'm thinking of getting liposuction on my knees, Jane."

Um, what?

Often the spew-o-meter keeps on spewing, too, adding random fact after random fact: "Besides liposuction, I'm also suffering from depression because I like to saw people in half and today I ate a jack-o-lantern."

It's virtually impossible to build a scene this way, because nothing relates to anything else, so nothing sticks and you essentially have two people spewing random stuff. Spewing randomness is typically a result of feeling panic in the scene. Luckily, there is a sure-fire cure for spewing, and that is to listen.

Just pretend that you and your scene partner are actual human beings having an actual conversation. If that were the case, you would listen to what they said and then reply to it. You might reply calmly, or you might have a big ol' emotional reaction to what they said, but it would be in response to what they said.

"Well, that's just fine, Jane! I can't be married to a woman who treats potatoes so sloppily anyway. I just wish I hadn't wasted the last 15 years with you and your lumpy mashed potatoes." Or, "What! No, you can't leave me! You're the only person who's worse than me at anything. Without you, I'll be the bottom of the barrel." Now your scene partner, who will also be pretending you are an actual human being, can listen and respond and the information will get layered nicely and a scene will develop.

I hope this has been helpful. I don't look like Celine Dion. For one thing, I'm blonde. Evidently my arms are not weirdly long. I want a cheesecake.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Long Beach Improv Show! And It's Free!

Tomorrow night! The LAST Last Laugh Saturday of 2011. Don't make Horsey mad... come see us!

Get there early if you want a seat and a chance to write weird sentences on slips of paper for Fishbowl - if you wait too long, Nate will write them all.

See ya tomorrow night!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv & Running: Fear, Toenails and Sticking With It

I had an email conversation with Anonymous Friend the other day about some stuff. Her premise was that running and improv have many of the same benefits. I pshaw'd her because, as everyone knows, improv is the best thing ever and running makes my toenails fall off.

It's true. You should've heard the Vietnamese lady who did my pedicure with all my gross loose toenails after the 1/2 marathon last year. I couldn't understand the words, but her expression was clear: this girl should stick with improv.

Anyway, when Anonymous Friend got over the ickiness of my toenails, she had this to say:

If you weren’t born a natural runner, there are a lot of mental hurdles to climb before you lace on your first pair of running shoes. If you didn’t participate in sports growing up, you think there’s no way you can become a runner. Or if you’re overweight, you’re afraid of embarrassing yourself at the gym or getting laughed at by the drivers in the cars that pass you. But eventually you decide to stop listening to the naysayers and just do it. (Srew you, Phil Knight. I’m not paying you royalties for that.) And even when it hurts and even when you suck, you still keep going. I can’t decide which is more beautiful: when a person hits the wall yet refuses to quit, or the moment when that person chose to take that first step to begin with.

Alas, running hasn’t given me the ability to run 6-minute miles or a resting heartrate below 60 bpm. But it has taught me a stick-with-it-through-the-sucky-parts-because-it-will-get-better-eventually attitude, along with a belief that I can do anything if I stop being afraid. (The stop-being-afraid part is a little tricky.) Sounds kinda like improv to me. :-)

Those are some good points, AF. Obviously, there are many differences between running and improv, but the mental attitude AF is referring to is an important key. To succeed in improv or running, you have to let go of self-doubt and comparing yourself to others and worrying about what others think of you - in other words, stop being afraid. The classes that have been my worst have been the ones in which I felt intimidated by other students' talent, ability, hair, intact toenails, whatever. AF helped me realize that my goal for every class should be what my goal would be if I was running: courage to stick with it and be MY best, even when I hit the wall. Period. My goal should never have anything to do with the other people in a class, or a show or whatever (other than in terms of giving them my best in every scene).

So thanks, AF! (FYI, I still think improv is better. Besides the fact that improv doesn't harm my toenails, no one has ever said they're a big fan of my running.)

By Sonnjea Blackwell