Get Out!

I'm just sayin'.

Need a ticket out of your comfort zone? Sign up for an improv class today!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Zombies Need Not Apply

I'm sorry for the sporadic posting lately. I have a few other jobs, which occasionally makes time for blogging scarce. And the truth is, I sometimes feel like I'm just rehashing the same ol' themes over and over, and I'm afraid I'm boring you and you might need a break from me.

But now we have a new round of Level 1 improv classes set to start in the next week or so, and I feel like talking about who should take improv and why, and maybe a bit about my favorite kind of student.

If you are a living, breathing human being, you should take improv. So that pretty much only leaves out zombies. If you think you have to have performing skills or a drama background, let that go - we approach improv from a different perspective at Held2gether, and that is that everyone can do improv, not just performers (although actors are as welcome as everyone else). I am the poster child for "improv for life." I took my first improv class from Darren Held just about exactly 4 years ago; I had never been on stage before and my goals were to get out of my shell, overcome shyness and deal with some serious writer's block. I didn't know exactly what improv was when I signed up for that first parks and rec class, but at the end of that 4-week class, I was completely hooked. I've never NOT been in an improv class since. It did help with shyness and writer's block, for sure.

Oh, and it completely changed my life. There's that.

The thing about improv is that the skills needed to build a successful improv scene are the same as the skills needed to live a successful life: listening, being in the moment, working well with others, not judging yourself, giving your all, accepting people and their ideas, and did I mention listening? So if you want to get better at playing baseball, improv can help. If you want to get better at being a banker, improv can help. If you want to get better at being a firefighter, improv can help. If you want to be a better dictator, improv will probably be counter-productive. But other than that, whatever you want to improve at, improv really can help. In fact, most of the word "improve" is made up of the word "improv." Coincidence? Pshaw.

Oh, and my favorite students? Those are the folks who see the magic of improv and how it brings out the magic in themselves. They accept the struggly times as part of the process, but continue to strive to overcome those struggles. They appreciate their classmates and do their best to make everyone look good. They love that improv is fun, but understand that it's more than just playtime. In short, they respect the game.

If you've been waiting to try improv, now is your chance, peeps! Beginning improv classes start the first part of April. Hope to see you there.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

To Be or To Be for a Little While

My friend Lorna is taking a Spanish language improv class, which is apropos of nothing, except it made me think of some Spanish words. In Spanish, there are two different verbs for "to be" - ser and estar - and they are used in different situations. When you are describing the essential character of a person or thing (in other words, its permanent state), you use ser. When you are describing the current state of being or condition of a person or thing, you use estar.

No, this isn't a Spanish lesson, and yes, it's about improv. I swear.

My point is that I sometimes hear people (okay, sometimes "people" includes "me") describe themselves thusly: "Man, I am terrible at improv," or "I am bad at [insert improv weakness here]" or something along those lines. In English, unfortunately, there is only one verb for "to be" and it sort of implies a permanent state (or the essential character) of the person.

When it comes to being bad at improv, the verb estar would be a much better choice. Maybe you're not that good at improv YET. Maybe you had a terrible class last night and you are bad at creating a pattern RIGHT NOW. It's not your permanent state of being, people.

Look, everybody has an off night or a stumbling block or a hurdle on the learning curve to contend with. Barry Bonds struck out a lot. Abraham Lincoln got fired a lot. Liam Neeson... well, bad example. Liam's essential state is awesome sauce. But you see my point, I think - pick any hero in any field, and you'll see times when they were bad at what they do best. But they didn't STAY bad forever. It seems to be human nature to identify and then HOLD ON TO our weaknesses, while brushing aside our strengths and successes as flukes or temporary states.

From now on, when you're describing what you're good at in improv, think of those things as your permanent state and essential character. Ser. And when you're describing what you're bad at, think of those things as simply your current condition, subject to change at any moment. Estar.

Because really, ALL of us have the essential state of awesome sauce. We just have temporary setbacks of suckiness now and then. No big.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

If You Want Something Done Right...

Some people (who shall remain nameless) who knew me back in the day have trouble believing I can do improv. It's true. You know who you are.

It's not so much about the humor thing, because I've been a smartass my entire life. It has to do with the teamwork aspect of improv, which has actually turned out to be the thing I love most about improv.

To say I wasn't a team player would be a ginormous understatement. Let's review, shall we?

1. The only sport I did in high school was swimming - which is technically a "team," but it's really made up of individuals doing their own events. Needless to say, I didn't do relays.
2. My friends did drama and/or debate... but I didn't want my "success" to depend on other people doing their job. So I didn't do drama. Or debate.
3. I abhorred any type of "group project" assignments in high school and college. The ONE time I trusted everyone on the team to do their job, somebody didn't. It was a mock election, and my team would've won by a LANDSLIDE, except one lame mofo didn't do his part. So we lost. From then on, I did all the work in any group projects myself, guaranteeing all the people on my team an A... and guaranteeing that everyone knew what a major control freak, pain in the ass bitch I was.

So I get why people might have trouble believing I can be a team player. To be honest, if I'd known that improv was a total team sport, I might not have taken my first class. No, seriously. I really, really didn't trust people to carry their own weight, and I wouldn't have wanted to show new people my control freak, pain in the ass bitch self too soon.

But as I've said countless times, improv is magical. The brilliant thing is that it's FUN, so you want to do it well. And the only way to do it well is just to friggin' trust people. No, people aren't perfect and yes, sometimes your teammates aren't successful. But except in very rare instances, everyone is on the same page and trying their best to make the scene work, and that's what teammates do. Not only that, but a control freak, pain in the ass bitch is NOT someone anybody would want on a team. Who wants to play/work/whatever with someone so in love with their own agenda that they force it on everyone else? Um, not me.

When you grasp how amazing working together as part of a team can be, you realize that it's very lonely doing everything yourself. When you let go of your notion that everything has to be "perfect" (which is impossible anyway), you discover how fun it is to figure out how to make a "mistake" work. When an audience tells you you guys are all amazing!, you discover that your biggest win comes not from YOU looking good, but from you contributing to the TEAM looking good.

You probably won't believe me, but when you start to love the teamwork in improv, it will carry over into real life. Seriously, most people I've met since I started improv don't think of me as a control freak, pain in the ass bitch. Well, not all the time, anyway.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv: Say Anything

A student asked me a question before the Level 1 improv class started the other day. He wanted to know about boundaries, and whether or not he should censor himself. He said he was trying to push himself out of his comfort zone so he didn't want to censor, but on the other hand, he didn't want to say or do anything "offensive."

That's a good question, and one that I've gotten many times in beginning improv classes. Unfortunately, there's not really a good answer. Luckily, the relative "goodness" of an answer has never been a sticking point for me, so I'ma just plow ahead.

I have a degree in art, and I tend to err on the side of no censorship. Oftentimes the very point of art is to make folks uncomfortable and force them to think and examine their beliefs and whatnot. Without getting into an entire First Amendment diatribe, I think really good art doesn't just reflect back to society what people are; it should show society where we're lacking and what needs to change.

That being said, I'm not a dumbass. If I'm doing an improv show, I will definitely consider my audience. When we've done First Fridays shows at the tea room with children present, we absolutely censor ourselves and don't drop F-bombs or get raunchy like we might at our grown-up show. I think it's perfectly reasonable to put on family-friendly shows and R-rated shows and challenge ourselves as improvisors to play within those limits. After all, there are plenty of rules in improv already; this is just adding a little more structure to the games. Also, if we are invited to perform somewhere particular, we're certainly not going to do humor that offends our hosts. If we can't give them the type of show they want, it's our job to turn down the gig rather than force our agenda on them. However, when we have our own space, I think we will feel comfortable doing our own brand of humor and trusting audiences to "get it."

So yeah. In a performance, there has to be a certain amount of consciousness regarding the topics and words we choose. But in class... I think there has to be carte blanche to say anything.


Especially in the beginning, when so many people are terrified anyway and working so hard just to push themselves out of their comfort zone. I don't want that extra voice in their heads going, "Is this appropriate? I might offend so-and-so." I would rather have the students turn off the self-censor completely and just go for it. And then, if/when something truly offensive comes out, we can discuss it after the exercise or scene and figure out as a class why it was offensive and what could've been done or said differently to make it work.

It's a tricky thing. I won't tolerate any kind of unsupportive behavior in class - meanness, snarkiness, racism, agism, sexism or any other kind of -ism directed from one student to another. (Not that that's ever been an issue - improv students are awesome). But as characters - there's definitely something funny about seeing really "offensive" types of characters get their comeuppance. And I wouldn't want students to shy away from trying those characters, just because it might not work.

So that's my answer on self-censoring.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Intro to Improv Workshop This Sunday!!

We're offering an Intro to Improv Half-Day Workshop this coming Sunday, March 24. This isn't exactly noteworthy; I mean, we offer these things several times a year and they're always a hoot.

But I did feel it was worth mentioning because somebody on Saturday was concerned about "who exactly the class is tailored to." Which is a legit concern. Except in this case, the class is tailored to anyone and everyone who has heard of improv, so there's really no need for concern.

I suppose technically, it's wide open for those who haven't heard of improv as well, but I'm not sure how they'd go about signing up for a class they have never heard of.

Anyhoo... While this class is designed to be welcoming to people who have never done one second of improv before in their lives, and we focus on the basics, that doesn't mean old pros can't get anything out of it. In fact, much like improv in general, you will get out of the class what you put into it - if you look at it as being beneath you and having nothing to offer, well then that's prolly what you'll get. But if you look at it as a chance to hone your skills, brush up on the fundamentals and help new people by demonstrating how to be a strong, generous scene partner, you'll definitely see some personal growth.

The thing I love about the half-day workshops is that the new people are excited about the chance to learn not just from me, but also from the more experienced students in the class... AND that the experienced people are inspired by the fearless, all-out, go-for-it-ness that beginners bring.

Plus, you know I'll say something to embarrass myself, and that in itself is worth the price of admission. Hurry, there aren't many spots left!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

"Tacos Originated in a Small Village in Baja California Called Taquello..."

I was interviewed for an hour-long radio show this morning about, what else, improv. It was funny because beforehand, I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to talk for an entire hour (well, 48 minutes, if you factor in the commercials). If you've met me, you know how laughable that is. I mean, I can talk for an hour about chalk. And this was improv. All I do in life is talk about improv. Most people pray for me NOT to talk about improv for an entire hour.

Anyway, I have a point. Shut up, I do. Before improv, I still had a tendency amongst my family and coworkers to be a bit of a Chatty Cathy... But although I never really had stage fright or worried if I had to give a speech or something, being interviewed and talking off the cuff for any length of time would have been WAY far out of my comfort zone.

But improv teaches, above all, the importance of being in the moment. It's hard to be panicked if you really ARE in the moment, because panic is about something that might happen in the future... All I can do in THIS moment is listen to the interviewer and respond to his questions to the best of my ability.

And what about that, the answering the questions part? Before improv, I would've had no confidence whatsoever in my ability to talk intelligently on any subject - especially not for a whole hour! But when you take an improv class, you get used to going on stage and having NO clue what's going to happen. You get a suggestion like "maple syrup" or something, and boom! You create a 3-minute scene from it. Sure, 3 minutes is far from an hour, but when you can learn to be comfortable in the gray area - that area where nothing is for sure and anything can happen and you have no control over any of it - that applies throughout all the areas of your life.

In this case, the interview was also about improv, which is something I'm a certain amount of an expert in, so it was not too difficult to talk about the why's and wherefore's of it. But if the interview had been about tacos or tablecloths or the Swedish design aesthetic of the 1970s, I could have still talked about it for an hour. Adding information is one of the first things we learn in improv, and being specific and having "expert" knowledge about stuff is just part of the game. My information about tablecloths and Swedish design would've been all BS, but it would've sounded good. Tacos... come on! It's meat in a fried container - how could I NOT be an actual expert on that?

Anyway, I just wanted to say that whatever your Comfort Zone Limit (CZL) is, improv can expand it. I never knew I'd need to be interviewed for anything, so it wasn't a goal of mine to acquire that skill. But the skills of improv apply in literally every area of life, and when you expand your CZL, you expand ALL of your abilities, without even really being consciously aware of it. Until one day, somebody asks if they can interview you on their show about sloths. And then you calmly say, "Sure. Two-toed sloths, or three?"

By Sonnjea Blackwell

I Love the Smell of Roses... MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Oh. My. God. We laughed so hard in the Level 1 improv class last night that our sides ached, our cheeks ached and one lady said her eyes even hurt.

Last night was emotion/commitment night, which means it's the first time we delve into the notion of having a HUGE, heightened emotion as well as total commitment to a character or emotion or whatever kind of label. And my peeps friggin' brought it last night, which was super fun... AND a really important lesson for them.

We did an ordinary ol' 3-person transaction scene in a store, then replayed the same scene with an emotion or a movie/TV genre suggested by the audience. The hilarity that ensued was caused ENTIRELY be the students committing to that emotion or style. There's nothing inherently funny about the statement, "Boy, there sure are a lot of erotic novels in this bookstore" or "Do you take VISA?" or "We're looking for Beatles albums" or "I love the smell of roses." But when you say those lines and you're SUPER sad or evil, or you're in a murder-mystery or a western, those same lines become HILARIOUS. The spacework and stage picture change, but the lines stay the same and it's proof that, if you are committed - really, really committed - the audience is completely on your side and they will reward you with eye-pain-inducing laughter.

And isn't that what we all want?

By Sonnjea Blackwell

How Much Effort Is 100%, Anyway?

I can hardly walk today. Oh, stop it. Get your minds out of the gutter, people.

I realized over the weekend that I don't really put 100% effort into... well, much of anything, really. I know how hard I have to work to accomplish certain standards that matter to me, and that's how hard I work. I'm guessing I average around 70% effort, if effort can be quantified in that way. It's not exactly that I'm lazy, although I'm sure there's an element of that involved. But it has more to do with fear than anything else.

Doesn't everything?

I don't know about you guys, but I'm a perfectionist. And a pleaser. Not being a complete idiot, I understand that "perfect" is unattainable... and yet, since I have the drive to achieve perfection anyway, sometimes the only way to not make myself crazy is to just do stuff half-assed. Because when I CHOOSE to do a less than perfect job, I haven't failed in my attempt.

The pleaser thing compounds the mediocrity that perfectionism gives rise to. Giving people what they want is half of being a pleaser; the other half is becoming adept at figuring out what they want, so you can give it to them. Most people have absurd but specific expectations - parents, teachers, bosses, the mailman - and so I can skate by doing a mediocre job and still managing to satisfy most of the people most of the time... and those I can't please, I eventually "choose" not to try (see the procrastination thing, above).

Yes, I have a point, and yes, it has to do with improv. I've been reading all these books lately that have to do with fear and how insidious it is. I'm starting to think that every negative attribute a person can have boils down to fear, in one way or another. Perfectionism = fear of failing. Pleaser = fear of not being loved. And in coming to these conclusions, I realize that, as hard as I work at improv, I still don't give it EVERYTHING, because part of me still wants to be perfect at it, and part of me still wants to please people (teachers, the audience, my classmates) with it. As long as fear is part of the equation, I will always be acting to avoid it. I won't try things that I know I can't succeed at (the first time around), because I don't want to fail. I won't try weird things because I don't want to displease people.

Part of giving 100%, in my estimation, is pushing until failure no longer applies. Because you DID fail, and you didn't give up. Or because you pushed and pushed and you DIDN'T fail. Or because you learned something about yourself in the process that made the eventual outcome irrelevant. Or because, in pushing that hard, you learned to say "Fuck you, fear. I'm magic."

So I can't walk very well today because I actually pushed myself 100% at the gym yesterday. Not that I have anything to prove there; Nate has already seen me at my most spastic anyway. But I want to get in the habit of seeing what I really CAN do, after so many years of just doing what I HAVE to do to get by, so I'm practicing this 100% effort thing in as many areas of my life as I can - improv being at the top of the list, naturally.

Care to join me?

By Sonnjea Blackwell

I'm Good At Snowboarding! Can I Work at this Funeral Parlor?

Certain people at H2G HQ have the kind of jobs where they go to offices and have bosses and underlings and actual responsibilities. I personally do not approve of such scenarios, but it seems as if they're here to stay, so I accept them and try not to judge.

In any event, in the course of doing his job, one such individual is often in the position of interviewing hiring candidates. He asked me to write a blog about how improv classes can help these people with their interviewing skills. I'm happy to oblige.

It seems that, when asked about their strengths, candidates frequently list any number of things they're good at (or at least things they think they're good at) THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE JOB THEY ARE APPLYING FOR... from snowboarding to karaoke to speed-reading to cooking to sex. Well, I made that last one up - if you're going to mention sex at an interview that is not actually for a job in the porn industry, I think improv is probably not going to solve all of your problems.

Conversely, when asked about their weaknesses, these same people list any number of things they suck at THAT ARE DIRECTLY RELATED TO THE JOB THEY ARE APPLYING FOR.

Now, I know that my readers - employed or otherwise - would not do such a thing. But in case you are reading this to an illiterate friend or relative, I will explain how improv classes would help in these instances.

In improv, we always want to make connections and unearth what something means. If I tell my scene partner, "I resent your condescending attitude," we need to figure out why. Perhaps it's because it makes my character feel insecure, or because his character is actually completely incompetent and yet thinks he's all that, or whatever. We want to connect our next bit of information onto the last, so we can build a relationship and, therefore, a scene. If I say, "I resent your condescending attitude," and he replies with, "You love ice cream!" that's not connected and not helpful.

When you learn that skill, you can apply it in an interview situation. If the HR person asks what your strengths are, and you have none that directly apply to the job at hand, but you are good at snowboarding, don't say you're good at snowboarding. Instead, think about the skills needed for successful snowboarding, think about how those skills connect to the job at hand, and list those... Say you have the ability to assess new situations and adapt accordingly, or that you're always one to take initiative, or that you're a risk-taker who nevertheless weighs the needs of the team before making a decision. Think about the question, understand what they are really asking, and make those connections in your brain before you answer. All in a couple seconds. That's what improv teaches you.

Oh yeah. If you're asked about your weaknesses, don't hand them a laundry list of reasons not to hire you. Think of something you're not good at, and explain how the skills you lack in that situation are something you're not great at. Maybe you're not good at karaoke... you can say, "I am uncomfortable being singled out or being the center of attention. I'm much better in a collaborative situation." That takes a weakness and turns it into a strength; essentially, I'm a team player.

I am NOT suggesting you lie in your interviews. Far from it. I am suggesting that improv will help you understand questions and how to logically reply to them in a connected manner that will allow you to tell the best possible truth, instead of the truth that gets you sent home without the job.

By Sonnjea Blackwell