Improv: Funny, Brilliant and Magical

Saturday night, we had our best improv comedy show to date. You might even say it was the best improv show ever. Or you might not. Your call.

Anyhoo. We all got some very nice comments and compliments after the show, and we appreciate every one of those wonderful comments. I don't know about you, but I never get tired of hearing adjectives like funny, brilliant and magical. Still, my favorite compliments are the ones that start with, "You guys were..." You know. Plural.

Naturally, I want to be the best I can be in any improv show. Trust me, I'm not above needing ego gratification, so I really want Darren to notice when I make a big breakthrough or do something we were all beginning to think I'd never be able to do. I mean cuz he's the boss and all.

But as far as the audience goes, I just want people to think the scene was funny, brilliant and magical. Part of doing awesome improv is everyone doing the best they can to make everyone look good. The audience shouldn't be able to pinpoint who made a scene funny, brilliant or magical, because the players should all work together seamlessly to build a scene and layer information and give each other labels and make any so-called "mistakes" into improv gold.

I get that everybody in the audience has their own personal preferences when it comes to comedy, and some people prefer big characters while others prefer witty information, etc. But when improv works, the audience should feel like the scene couldn't have succeeded without each of those parts working together as one.

That's what we did Saturday night, and I am so proud of us! If you missed out, no worries. The H2G Friday Company has a show this Friday night: Menos Uno at First Fridays Bixby Knolls. So you have another chance to experience funny, brilliant and magical!

You're welcome.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv-y State of Mind

Lisa and I were discussing my shortcomings yesterday (well, not all of them; that would take a LONG time). Just the obvious ones: girl, blonde and straight. I argued that "blonde" shouldn't be held against me since I am not technically a natural blonde. Lisa countered that blonde is a state of mind more than a hair color and that in that regard, my blondness is in fact natural.

Holy randomness, Batman, what is she talking about now?!? And does it have anything to do with improv?

Please don't doubt me, peeps. It upsets me to think you don't have faith in my ability to tie anything and everything to improv.

See, what Lisa's remarks made me think about was the notion that literally everything is a state of mind. Facts are facts, of course. But a fact in and of itself doesn't necessarily mean the same thing from one person to the next. "I have a cold," may be a statement of fact. But for one person that may mean whining and feeling sorry for himself (cuz it's usually a man who can't cope with a cold, let's be honest) while for another person, it means, "Hey! I have an awesome sexy voice for a change!"

There may be facts about your improv skills and abilities, but it's your state of mind regarding those facts that make all the difference in the world. You can defend your weaknesses and hide behind your limitations. And if you do, you get to keep them. Or you can use those weaknesses and limitations to inspire you to work harder and become even better. You can stick with what you're already good at, and ignore the stuff you struggle with. And if you do, you'll see all your friends and classmates passing you by. Or you can trust that what you're good at will still be there while you take some time to focus all your attention on the stuff you struggle with.

Facts are facts. But your state of mind is what determines what's the truth. In improv and in life. Just sayin'.


By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv/Improve

I've written a lot of improv-tips-for-people-in-improv-classes posts lately because I've been getting questions in class that prompt such posts. But I haven't forgotten our basic premise improv for life, I assure you.

How could I? It's our raison d'etre. Um, duh. Plenty of other schools teach plenty of other kinds of improv. Some schools even teach plenty of similar improv. But no other schools I know of teach improv to non-performers in a way that a) is approachable and accessible and makes sense to "real" people and b) still pushes those real people to improve in the core skills of improv. Which are, you know, the core skills of life.

It would be easy to have a "class" (and I use that term loosely in this context) where you just play around at improv games. People would have a blast and make friends and relieve stress. That's great; of course, that's also referred to as a "party" and those, I've heard, are quite popular.

It's also easy to have a class designed for performers, and push them hard to expand their acting skills and characterizations and commitment. Every acting school, improv school and mime school in LA does exactly that. Well, to be honest, I'm just guessing about the mime schools.

What's tricky is to have a class that strongly emphasizes the fundamentals of improv and requires dedication and commitment without demanding excellent performing skills. People who take H2G classes are most often taking them for personal growth - fun is usually on the list, along with better communication skills, enhanced relationship skills, improved listening, working better with others, etc. Naturally, our job is to push the students out of their comfort zone and help them get comfortable in the discomfort - while still making the overall experience fun. And improv class is fun... but it's not all about relieving stress. Sometimes improv class creates stress for students, especially when they are working out a particularly troublesome demon of some sort.

I, for one, am not going to apologize for that. Because when that struggly time comes - and it will, trust me - I know that if the student sticks with it and embraces that discomfort and commits to working through it, the result will be life-changing for them. Pushing yourself to overcome obstacles (of any type) expands your capacity and enhances your life. Anyone can stay the same. It takes effort to change and improve. Fortunately, Held2gether improv class can make that effort a whole lot more enjoyable - and effective.

Uh, that's why we call it improv for life, btw.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Just Say Thank You

We have our monthly improv comedy show at Hot Java this Saturday. So yay!

Thinking about the show reminded me of something I wanted to share with you. You're welcome.

When I went to culinary school (yes, I can cook; I just eat out all the time because I hate doing dishes) one of my instructors would get über annoyed if anyone would apologize for something they made. You know, like, "Oh, sorry, I should've browned the chicken longer" or "I'm sorry, I thought fourteen jalepeños would be better than one" or whatever. People do that when they invite others over for a meal. A guest will say, "Wow, this is great bean salad," and whoever made the salad will say, "Oh, it's no good - I should've used haricots verts instead of regular green beans."

Damn, I'm rambling. Anyway, my teacher's point was that, you've gone to some effort to make something for your friends or family and, presumably, you weren't trying to poison them. So don't apologize! Especially if they said they liked it - because if they liked it, and then you babble about how it's not actually any good, you're kind of insulting their taste.

Hey! I have a point! The same is true when you perform an improv show. I hear audience members come up and tell the performers things like great show or oh my god, you were so funny, and the performers mumble about how they sucked or it wasn't funny or somebody other than them was funny or we were off tonight or whatever.

DON'T DO THAT. If the audience thought you were funny, don't insult their taste by insisting you weren't. You may know for a fact that what you did wasn't good improv, but that's a discussion to have with your director/teacher/priest. Unless you purposely did something horrible that you should apologize for, like showed up drunk or naked or refused to speak during your scenes, accept their compliments with a nice, "thank you!"

And for those of you who are coming to see us perform this Saturday, I promise not to apologize no matter how much you compliment us.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv and Trust

I'm torn today... Do I write about why you absolutely, positively should NOT go for the joke in improv? Or do I write about trust? Argh. So many choices.

Okay. I flipped a coin, and trust won. I've mentioned before that improv class is great for building trust, and I totally stand by that. At H2G classes, we holler "Yay!!" till the cows come home and clap till our hands ache, which makes for a safe, supportive environment in which to play. When you realize you can take creative risks and get support and encouragement even when you fail, you start to trust in yourself and others more. It's awesome.

But there's more to this whole idea of trust. You have to be trustworthy yourself. I know you're thinking, "Well, jeez, Sonnjea, I'm trustworthy. I clap and holler "Yay!" with the best of 'em." And I believe you. I really do.

What I'm referring to now is what you do in your scenes. Since we've established a safe place in which to play, your scene partners will trust you - unless you do something to make them not. This has nothing to do with being "perfect" at improv, because there is literally no such thing. It has to do with respecting your scene partners and the art of improv.

If you want your scene partners NOT to trust you, I can give you two sure-fire ways to accomplish that:

1. Drive an agenda
2. Go for the joke

Well gosh, it looks like I'll be talking about going for the joke today after all. There's a surprise.

But first, driving an agenda. When you go onstage with an idea in mind, you have an agenda. Having an idea is fine - we all have ideas. Holding onto it is the problem. LET IT GO. The only reason to drive an agenda is because you don't trust. If you really, honest-to-goodness trusted your scene partners, yourself and the process, you would happily let go of your ideas.

When you drive an agenda, you're essentially telling your scene partner, "My idea is better than yours. I don't even know what yours is, but I'm sure mine is better. We're going to do it this way." I don't have to explain to you why your scene partner isn't going to trust you when you behave that way.

And now, back to going for the joke. Those of you who know me know this is a HUGE pet peeve of mine. Naturally, I'ma tell you why. Improv is a team sport, peeps. The goal should always be to do the best improv you can do. Going for an obvious joke or one-liner does nothing to build a scene. It's the opposite of giving your scene partner gifts of labels and information - it's seeing an opportunity to get yourself an easy laugh.

That, my friends, is selfish. If you want to make jokes and get laughs for yourself, do stand-up. In a team sport like improv, there is no place for glory hounds. Making innuendos, being jokey or acting like a clown are all ways of saying, "Hey! Look at me!!" When you do that, your scene partner instantly knows that you will sacrifice them and the scene in a heartbeat to get yourself a laugh. Guess what? They won't trust you if you do that.

If your scene partners can't trust you, they won't feel safe playing with you. If they don't feel safe, they won't be able to commit. If they can't commit, you don't have a scene. Period.

Trust me. I know about these things.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

How To Take an Improv Class

Someone asked me before improv class recently, "What do you think I should do to get the most out of class tonight?" Well, since you asked...

Relax: You'll be much more in the moment if you're not freaking out. Sure, improv is scary, but remember that everyone is in the same boat as you and just wants to learn as much as they can. Take a deep breath. Let it out. Repeat.

Don't try to be funny: Trying to prove how funny you are means you will be driving an agenda, trying to force something to happen. Instead, focus on the objective of each exercise and strive to accomplish the goals. Not all exercises are meant to be funny! And anyway, the point of class is to learn the fundamentals of improv - when you know how to do good improv, the funny just happens without you trying to make it happen.

Listen: Each exercise is designed to help you learn one or more skills, so listen when the instructor explains how to do it. You may not see the reason for a particular exercise, but trust that there is one. Listen when the instructor gives you feedback. Listen when the instructor gives everyone else feedback, too. There are probably 16 people in your class - if you only listen to your own critique, you are literally missing out on the vast majority of the instruction that takes place.

Watch: It's great to demonstrate your enthusiasm by jumping up and being willing to go first. But if you're unclear about how an exercise works, let a few others go first so you can watch them, listen to their critiques and learn how it should be done. There's nothing wrong with letting someone else be the guinea pig sometimes.

Be patient: Some people have this idea that they want to be better at improv. But you aren't just going to wake up tomorrow and be better. You have to go through the process to get better. That means treating class like class, rather than a performance. It means taking in the feedback you get, and doing your best to apply it. It means accepting that there are ups and downs on the improv learning curve, just as there are on any learning curve. It means sticking with it when you're frustrated and working through the tough spots. So be patient! It is a virtue, you know.

Take responsibility: It can be tempting to blame your scene partner when an exercise didn't go the way you'd hoped, or argue that the instructor didn't explain the exercise well enough, or insist that you really did do such-and-such correctly when the instructor explains that you didn't. Don't do that! I'm assuming that you are in class to learn - why else would you pay someone to teach you improv? The only way to learn is to accept the feedback your instructor provides. Your scene partner will get their own critique of the exercise, and if you start throwing blame around, people will soon decide not to trust you. If you don't understand how to do an exercise, ask for clarification before you do it. And being defensive or deflecting the critique totally defeats the purpose of taking a class - how will you improve, if you don't accept feedback and learn from it?

Trust: Trust yourself, your instructor, your classmates and the process. Nobody is saying that trust is easy or automatic. But improv is based on it... and without it, you will not progress very far.

For Pete's sake, have fun! Go into class with an open mind, high energy, a willingness to fail and the desire to play! Where else in life do grownups get to play games, be silly and laugh their asses off? Sure, learning improv is difficult - but it shouldn't be work!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Don't Let Them Intimidate You!

Darren and I have noticed over the past few years that every improv class has its own unique personality. It's amazing how different one Intro class can seem compared to another. Even though any given individual may struggle or excel in any given skill, it seems that the Intro classes in particular have a strong group dynamic. One whole class may just get it. Another whole class may understand "yes" but not "and." Another class may tend towards a really dry, smart sense of humor with little commitment. Or whatever.

Sometimes you may find yourself in a class with a bunch of people who seem so brilliant you assume they've been doing improv since birth. And, if you're the "any given individual" who's struggling this time around, that can be really intimidating. Since I have zero performing background, that pretty much describes me in every Level 1 improv class I've ever taken.

I discovered a trick to not let the brilliant improvisers intimidate me, though. And I will now share my trick with you, as I am wont to do from time to time.

Don't compare yourself to them. No, seriously, that's my trick. (I didn't say it was an easy trick.) But it does work. Before each class, review in your mind what you did well and not so well at the last class. Then determine to improve the "not so well" thing, and focus all your attention in class on improving that one skill. After class, compare your today self with your last class self.

This serves two purposes: one, you are so focused on the one skill that you forget to pay attention to the brilliant improvisers around you; and two, when you compare your today self with your last class self, you will see improvement. When you recognize and acknowledge the progress you're making, your confidence builds and you become less inclined to belittle your skills.

When you aren't putting yourself down and comparing yourself to the rest of the class, you'll see that being in a class with strong improvisers is nothing but a plus. You can learn so much from everyone you work with in improv, whatever their skill level - especially when you realize that they are also learning from you, whatever your skill level.

That was pretty profound for a girl who is staring at the clock, waiting for sushi time, don't you think?

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Critiques... AKA "Hell"

Sometimes in improv classes, students get upset and defensive when they are being critiqued. Even at Held2gether, where the feedback is always super supportive and encouraging, people sometimes have a hard time.

I get that. I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm not a huge fan of having my shortcomings pointed out for the whole world to see. It's not comfortable being told you're not perfect. Trust me when I say it's a whole lot more difficult at other places. I've had non-Held2gether instructors whose critiques were anything but supportive. When that happens, it's like a fog envelops you and you just stand numbly on the stage, waiting for the critique to end so you can go back to your seat, or rush off to the bathroom to cry or leave and never come back. Or, you know, so I'm told.

Personally, I think it's idiotic to give unsupportive feedback. When a student feels bashed, they really can't take in what the instructor is [ostensibly] trying to teach. On the other hand, when students feel like the teacher acknowledges their efforts, then it's a bit easier to assimilate the part about how they denied every single thing their scene partner said or whatever.

But the thing is, even in an über-supportive environment like H2G, class is meant to be a learning experience. And the only way to learn is to listen to the feedback your instructors give you, and try your best to apply that feedback. At H2G, we want you to push yourselves out of your comfort zone, and we know that means sometimes scenes will go horribly awry. That's awesome! That means you tried something you weren't sure of, which is the entire point of class. So when a scene or exercise doesn't go the way you'd hoped, and the critique includes a bunch of stuff you need to work on, instead of getting upset or frustrated, pat yourself on the back for having had the courage to just DO IT.

To get the most out of improv classes, you have to be willing to fail... and fail BIG! But (to be unbelievably cliché) the only way to truly fail in improv is not to try.

Yeah, yeah. It's the same in real life, peeps. But I don't think you need me to tell you that.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Tip: Listen!

In one of the Held2gether Improv Level 2 classes that began last week, Darren asked the students to introduce themselves and tell what skill they really want to focus on developing during this class session. There were several different answers, but there was only one answer that multiple people gave: listening.

I've yammered on about the rules of improv time and time again. While some rules vary from one improv philosophy to the next (spacework, asking questions and the use of puppets, for example), three rules apply to pretty much any type of improv comedy: agreement, information and commitment. Nothing starts if you don't have agreement, nothing develops if you don't add information, and nothing matters if you don't have commitment.

Listening isn't even on that list of rules. And hey, guess what! I'ma tell you why. There's a surprise.

It's because listening is a given. Its importance is implied: you can't agree with something if you haven't heard it. You can't add relevant information if you don't know what information preceded it. And commitment without listening amounts to crazy, unfocused energy on stage. Which is, just to be clear, not helpful.

Listening is hard in real life for a variety of reasons. Sometimes we're so busy multitasking that we don't really hear what people are saying. Sometimes we already think we know what someone's going to say, so we don't bother to listen. And some people are just boring, so we can't bring ourselves to care about what they're saying. What? You know it's true.

In improv, there are also a variety of reasons people find it difficult to listen. Perhaps it's panic, pure and simple. I mean, it's pretty hard to focus on someone's words when you're terrified. Or it could be that you're attached to an agenda, so you don't bother to listen to your scene partner. (I don't mean "you" personally, of course. None of you ever has an agenda. But I've heard tell of some people in the improv world who do.) Or maybe you're having trouble listening because you're busy judging yourself or your scene partner or the suggestion or the audience or the person who invented improv.

My personal belief is that everyone can learn to listen better. Of course, the cool thing is that improv class is a fun way to improve that skill. You experience first hand how NOT listening is detrimental to a scene or game - but in a safe, encouraging environment so you don't have to feel bad about it. And when you start listening better, your improv improves and the positive reinforcement you get (laughter, applause, the undying admiration of your classmates) spurs you to learn to listen even more closely. And pretty soon, you're listening to your boss. Your spouse. Your kids. Your boring neighbor.

Well, 3 out of 4 ain't bad.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv Word of the Week: Synergy

Improv is an excellent example of the adage the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Hang on a sec, I'ma tell you why.

But first, I'ma analyze that saying. Cuz, you know, analyzing the crap out of everything is just how I roll. It seems like a "whole" is pretty much synonymous with the "sum of the parts." I mean, you have a bunch of individual parts, you add them together, and you get a whole. Right?

I guess it's sorta right. You get a total, at least. But if you get really existential about it, you could say there's another component that's required in order to make a total a whole. That component is synergy.

According to Wikipedia, synergy is 2 or more things functioning together to produce a result not individually attainable. So let's say we have a bunch of individual ideas. We add them together, and we now have a collection of individual ideas. But unless those ideas function together, they are still just a collection of parts. It's the functioning together notion that elevates a collection of individuals into a cohesive unit, able to achieve something none of the parts could.

What? I've been gone for the better part of 2 weeks. I've had time to think about shit.

In improv, every player in the scene has their own ideas. You "yes, and" each other's ideas and add information, which is basically adding parts together. However, unless/until you get on the same page and start functioning together, you will never become a whole, cohesive unit. That means you have to let go of the concepts of my idea and your idea and think only in terms of our idea.

Taking time to connect (eye contact, peeps!!) at the top of the scene and consciously letting go of any agendas is the best way to jumpstart that synergy. You still have ideas, and so do I. But since we are operating in terms of "we," a synergy develops between us and those individual ideas evolve into something bigger, better and funnier than either of our ideas could have resulted in otherwise.

We could come up with a laundry list of reasons why people don't connect and/or let go of their agenda, but the entire list really boils down to lack of trust. If you truly trust yourself, your scene partner and the magical process of improv, you will be able to connect and be in the moment and let go of the need to force an agenda. I don't know anybody who has developed to the point where they can trust 100% of the time. I know I can't. But it's a goal, and the more you work at it, the more open and in the moment you will be - and it's in that free, open space that synergy can begin to operate.

At least I think so. Your idea may differ.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

ASTD Improv Training

Four weeks from today, Darren, Viet and I will be presenting at the American Society for Training and Development International Conference and Exposition in Denver. Just the title of the darn conference is a mouthful. Literally tens of thousands of proposals are submitted each year, and we're super excited, a little nervous and incredibly proud to have been selected to present.

Our session, entitled Got Creativity?, is an interactive session demonstrating how improv training can help companies counteract the current downward spiral in creativity and innovation. We have fancy power point slides and a killer workbook to go along with the presentation. We're expecting around 300 people at our session, which is HUGE.

Anyway, my point is just this - ASTD, a hugely fancy and prestigious organization dedicated to on-the-job training, development and teaching, sees the benefit of improv training in the workplace. Which is, you know, what Held2gether does.

Just sayin'.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv & Jury Duty

Holy cow, between the Cold That Will Not Die, jury duty and our sold-out improv show last Sunday, I am friggin' exhausted. So it should come as no surprise to you that I will now cheat and use something from my own recent experience and tie it to improv in a clever improv for life fashion.

Here's the thing. (That was for Darren; never mind). Jury duty would be an exercise in frustration if you didn't just live in the moment. You have to block out a whole week during which you call in each night to see if you have to report the next day. Maybe you could go ahead and go to Vegas, maybe not. Who knows? So no Vegas for you.

Then you get called in. Swell. All the courthouses in LA county have wireless internet access, so you can bring your laptop, smartphone, reading material, whatever. They say "BE HERE BY 8:30 OR ELSE." So you get there at 8:30. Along with the woman who works there and like 2 other dorks. At 9, they start the juror orientation, which goes until 10:10. Then they give you a break! Thirty minutes to reward you for being late and then not listening to a court woman for an hour. Then you come back and sit around. Maybe all day, maybe not. Who knows?

Oh! Then you get called into a courtroom. Maybe you'll be picked, maybe not. Who knows? Except after only an hour, during which time they don't get to you, it's lunchtime. Because, you know, that hour of strenuous work tired everybody in the judicial system out. Lunch is an hour and a half, and you've been warned to be back ON TIME OR ELSE. Maybe you could make it home for lunch and a short nap, maybe not. Who knows? So you eat at McDonald's and nap in the car.

You go back (on time!) and wait in the hallway outside your courtroom, as instructed. Maybe they'll let you in, maybe not. Who knows? Forty minutes after the "on time" time, they come out and tell you the parties have reached an agreement and you are done. You get to go back to the jury room where they tell you maybe you'll get sent to another trial, maybe not. Who knows?

Improv is like that: maybe your partner will label you, maybe not. Maybe you're astronauts, maybe not. Maybe you'll have a hilarious character, maybe not. Who really knows? But when you get used to being in the moment and dealing with the who knows? of improv, it carries over into real life. And you can be in the moment and go with the flow at jury duty, or wherever. Without, you know, getting all cranky like the woman who kept telling everyone, "I had jury duty once; it nearly ruined my life!"

Now where is my Vicks?

By Sonnjea Blackwell