Seduced by Comfort

Fair warning, this post is all about me. I mean, me + improv, but still.

If you've read this blog twice, you know that I have some improvy weaknesses. What I'm discovering is that, in attempting to address those improvy weaknesses, I'm compelled to address some real life weaknesses.

This, people, is not fun. We all have those things that we struggle with, or things we don't like about ourselves, or ways of behaving that we'd change if only we knew how. Improv actually goes a long way towards helping with many of those things. So, by improving at improv, you improve in real life - better listening skills, better communicating, better teamwork, more acceptance, more contributing, all those things I yammer about.

But sometimes, there's something that you have to fix in real life in order to improve the corresponding improv skill. You probably won't know that for a long time; you'll be doing improv and getting better at it, and you'll see things changing in your life (for the better!) and you'll be all, "Yay! I rock!" And you do! And that lasts for a long time.

But if you do improv long enough, and are committed to being the best you can at it, there comes a time when you might start to notice that every critique, every specialty class, every against type exercise, every well-meaning troupe joke or comment about you involves a specific thing that you just can't seem to do. Naturally, I don't like the word "can't," but in some cases there is just some kind of block that prevents you from being able to do something.

And then you have a choice: dig deep to figure out what in your personality is holding you back and then deal with it, or accept the status quo. Improv is about pushing yourself out of your comfort zone - but only you can decide how far out you're willing to go. There's no judgment if you decide wherever you are now is far enough. Sometimes people cruise along at that status quo for a couple years and then suddenly decide, it's time for a new push. Whatever your personal goals are is fine.

For me, my career and my life pretty much revolve around improv. And I have to be a role model and set a good example, which means pushing myself even when (like right now) every part of me is trying to hide under the bed and stay the way I am, the way I'm comfortable being. Comfortable is, uh, comfortable... and who doesn't like comfort? But comfort is seductive, and there's no growth in it. So I'm gonna keep pushing, and I'll warn you now that I'm a bit cranky with all this effort, but I'm also pretty excited about the prospect of being better - at improv, and at life.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Give Me Laughter, or Give Me Death

We had a great improv show last night and it felt sooooo good to be back in front of an awesome crowd. I know performers of various ilk, and many of them are addicted to the applause of a live audience. I think applause is all well and good, but give me laughter any day.

And there's the problem. Those of us who do improv want to make people laugh. We want to create something from nothing, and we want to improve our communication skills, and we want to be more outgoing. And... WE WANT TO MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH.

That desire can sometimes lead to very bad improv. See, in improv you don't want to go for a joke or try to force funny to happen. But occasionally, somebody does do something jokey in a scene and, unfortunately, the audience laughs. That laughter is positive reinforcement for bad behavior, and the improvisor might decide to repeat that action in order to get the positive reinforcement again.

So then you have a scene that, albeit funny, was actually lousy improv. It takes a lot of self-control to do good improv and let the humor emerge from the layering of information and the commitment to characters and the development of relationship. But trust me, when you do that, it will definitely make people laugh. And then you get your laugher fix and the satisfaction of knowing you didn't go for an easy joke, or sacrifice the scene for a one liner or what have you. Yay!

It's awesome when the audience is as ready to laugh as last night's crowd was! We have the best fans ever, and we couldn't do this without you - so thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of our hearts. If you're ready to laugh some more, the H2G Friday Company will be on stage at the Wine Down Lounge this coming Friday night. Come laugh at them with me, why don't you?

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Lustful to Terrified in 2.3 Seconds

You know how babies can go from giddy to sobbing faster than a Ferrari can go from 0 to 60? Without getting into a whole lot of psychology and self-help talk, it's because they don't think about their feelings or analyze whether they're correct and appropriate or judge themselves for having those feelings or have decades of conditioning that forces them to suppress those feelings. They feel something, and they express it. When they feel something else, they express that instead. End of story.

Improv kinda needs that same type of ability to express every sort of emotion in every conceivable combination. I may start out giddy in my scene, and then my scene partner gives some information that makes me terrified. Then, perhaps, when he saves me from whatever I was terrified of, I feel grateful and lustful. Which most likely then makes him terrified. (What? I can't be the only one who confuses "lustful" with "duck face.")

Improv relies on huge emotional shifts and big reactions to information to drive the scene. To trot out the Ferrari again, your car isn't going anywhere (except possibly downhill fast) in neutral. Same is true of your improv scene. Neutral will get you exactly nowhere. When you feel your scene has stalled, the surest, best way to jump start it again is to have a HUGE emotional shift. If no information has come out to justify that shift, don't fret - have the emotion and then worry about justifying it. Somehow, magic happens and just by committing to a huge emotion, the information needed to justify it flows into your collective brains and you and your scene partner manage to explain exactly why, in the middle of this boring retirement party, you suddenly became so paranoid you hid under the table. Or, you know, whatever it is.

Practicing emotions is one of the things you can do on your own, outside of class, to improve your improv. Try and do it in front of a mirror, so you can make sure your facial expressions match your physical expression. Yell, scream, cower in fear, laugh until your face hurts, whatever. The more you can FEEL the difference in your face and body, the easier it will become to switch from one emotion to another on a dime. Play with subtleties, too - how does irritated look and feel and sound, compared to angry? Or furious?

Look, I am the QUEEN of calm, cool and collected. Not that I don't have emotions, but none of this "expressing" crap comes naturally to me. So I understand your angst. But if I can learn it, you can too. You are just as magic as I am.

Really.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Straining Beetle Wings

One of the things that makes improv unique is that the audience helps create it. We start with your suggestions. That means you have to have suggestions, whether it's a show or a class. People tend to be a little shy with suggestions, but it's actually pretty fun to watch people create a hilarious scene out of YOUR suggestion.

Holler 'em out! Be loud! If we say more specific or keep 'em coming, don't be offended - we get certain suggestions A LOT, so we try to vary it up. Here are a few hints to help you offer suggestions that might actually get used (or at least heard) at a show or class.

• Use your outside voice. Just holler that suggestion out like you're the champion hog caller from back home.
• Be specific with locations. If we say "Where are they?" we mean what is their IMMEDIATE surroundings. Ireland is too broad. Dublin, while admittedly more specific than Ireland is not exactly immediate. A dirty Irish pub is a good location.
• Brothers, sisters, lovers and exes are commonly used relationships. Also, for some reason, "cousins" means "blood relatives who sleep together and breed inappropriately," so we don't need to do that in every show. Bandmates, personal shopper and client, American Idol rivals, quilting bee members are all suggestions we don't get 30 times a week.
• For activities, we're ideally looking for something the players can be doing with their hands. Believe it or not, taxidermy is a suggestion for an activity pretty often. Laundry is another common suggestion, leading me to believe that after people stuff dead animals, they need to wash their clothes. That makes sense. Sanding pinewood derby cars, sorting recyclables and preparing a tea ceremony are suggestions we don't get frequently.

I'm not telling you WHAT to suggest; that would be pre-planning, and we don't pre-plan. I'm just giving you an idea of what types of things are less common without veering into the realm of crazy, like "they're straining beetle wings" or what have you.

Oh, and you can practice your newfound suggesting skills at our two upcoming improv shows: Last Laugh Saturday, on January 26th and Friday Night Live: Uncorked & Unscripted on February 1st! Yay!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Will Be Funny for Muffins

Yesterday I mentioned that I have some improv pet peeves. It's true. I know I seem sweet and mild-mannered, but that's just my blogging alter ego. Like Clark Kent, for example. If, you know, Superman wrote blogs.

Ahem. Anyway, I do have some pet peeves, which I mentioned in this post, cleverly titled, Improv Pet Peeves. So you can check out the list there, but today I'ma talk about one of my all-time biggest improv pet peeves...

People who expect me to be funny all the time, simply because I do improv. "Wow, you teach improv? You must be hilarious! Say something funny."

Are you fucking kidding me? I just found out you work in a bakery, but I didn't demand a muffin. Jeez. Boundaries, people.

I get that many people don't understand that improv, unlike standup, is NOT about going for the joke. But even if it were (or if I did standup), demanding something funny is rude and perhaps not the best way to elicit a humorous rejoinder. I'm not funny on demand. Throw in some cash, and I'll see what I can do.

There's also this pressure to be the life of the party when people know you do improv. I'm not that kind of funny. I'm not a girl who can walk into a room and it suddenly lightens up and people start laughing, unless maybe I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe. I'm not, strictly speaking, entertainment (pictures of me 1/2 asleep with Batgirl dolls on me notwithstanding). That's why it's easier for me to party with other improvisors - we just play with each other, rather than relying on one person to be "on" for everyone else.

Also, we drink. A lot. That helps.

Look, I have the best job in the world, and I love that people think doing improv is cool. I'm happy to work at being a good role model by listening well and remembering things and accepting information and being in the moment, to the best of my ability on any given day. Just please don't ask me to "say something funny." Unless you have a muffin for me. I think that's fair.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Fuck You. I'm Magic.

Hmmmm... I'm in a quandary. Do I post about one of my all-time biggest improv pet peeves, or do I talk about magic?

All righty, magic it is. A couple weeks ago, Nate posted a picture on my FB wall of a witch on a broomstick with the caption, "Fuck you. I'm magic." Ignoring the part where he may have been implying I'm a witch, I chose to focus on the magic part.

As far as improv scenes go, it's never a good idea to invoke magic. It's kinda like playing drunk or crazy - if you're magic, nothing really matters because you can just fix anything or change the scene to suit your needs or whatever you want. So while, "Fuck you. I'm magic," is perhaps the awesomest way of denying someone EVER, it's still either a denial or at the very least a label that won't lead to having stakes or a big "what" in your scene.

However, in terms of improv attitude, "Fuck you. I'm magic," is about the best one you could possibly adopt. When the fears and insecurities and crises of confidence come up, you can give in to them. You can be nervous and afraid to go onstage. You can get all heady and freeze. You can rely on jokes and sarcasm, and incur my wrath in the process. Or you can acknowledge the fears and insecurities and crises of confidence and then tell them all, "Fuck you. I'm magic."

Cause ya know what? You are. Here's the definition of magic I found on the internet (so it must be accurate).

mag·ic
/ˈmajik/
Noun
The power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

That's what we do when we do an improv scene - we influence the course of events in our scene using nothing but our imagination, which is pretty mysterious if you ask me.

If you believe you're magic, then you are. I'm totally magic, duh. If you want to believe it but aren't sure how, take improv classes. Seriously, creating something from nothing time and time again will convince you that we're ALL magic just waiting to happen.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Speaking Sprench

One of the cool things about improv is that there are so many different aspects of it, that there's a good chance you'll be a natural at some things while struggling with others. Knowing that "well, at least my information will be good," has given me the courage to get on stage many a time.

Unfortunately, relying on the things you're already good at can be a crutch. If my ego needs a boost or my confidence is flagging, you can bet I'll trot out a go-to character and deliver some mighty awesome information. And Darren will say, "Great information, Sonnjea!" And I'll pat myself on the back and feel better.

But I haven't learned anything. Labels and information are not hard for me, so if I only focus on those skills in class, I'm wasting everybody's time. Sure, I might improve those skills and take them to another level, and that's never a bad thing. But I'm neglecting the areas that really need my attention - in my case, physicality, characters and voices. And stakes, don't forget having stakes.

Yeah, I have issues.

Anyhoo, long form improv started up last night, and I gave myself a little lecture before class. First of all, I gave myself credit for all the things I have already learned and the things I kick ass at in long form. It's not necessarily a long list, but I figured I should critique myself the way I critique my students - start with what I/they did right. So I acknowledged my strengths and then I committed to working on my weaknesses. And I told myself that, by focusing all my attention on those weaknesses, I might do bad improv for a while. I might actually (gasp!) have bad information or be unable to justify something.

In class, we did an exercise I've done a few times before. I decided to do it with a Spanish accent and character (I've never done accents before; I'm accent remedial). It started well, and Viet and I got out some good information. Yay us! Then the other duo had their part of the scene and, damn them, they used French accents. And they were good French accents. Bastards.

Naturally, when it came back to me and Viet, I lost my accent. All I could manage was a mangled conglomeration of Spanish and French. Sprench. My information went right out the window as I struggled to get the accent back. I couldn't follow up on anything Viet and I had set up. I have no idea what I even said.

And you know what? I couldn't be happier! I was so committed to pushing myself and doing things to challenge myself that I wasn't holding anything back in my head "just in case." I had no backup plan. I had a bad Spanish accent and, when I couldn't hold onto it, I had nothing else. That means I truly put it all out there.

Sorry this post has been all about me. I just wanted to share my experience in the hopes that it will help you feel comfortable trying the stuff that's hard for you. You couldn't always do long division, either, but you didn't just insist on adding 2 + 2 because that's what you were good at... If you don't try the stuff you struggle with, it'll never become stuff you're good at. Just sayin'.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

What's On the Agenda?

Improv, as you may have heard me mention once or forty hundred times, is all about letting go of your agenda, your preconceived notions, your attachment to your own brilliant ideas and your insistence that your way is the right way.

Basically, improv is not about you. Imagine my dismay at learning that.

But life isn't about you either. We are constantly adjusting, compromising, retooling and adapting because other people and situations rarely conform to the [extremely well thought-out, comprehensive] plans we have in our heads. And yet, as often as we have to do this in real life, it can still be frustrating and difficult (at best) or downright angst-inducing and paralyzing (at worst) to be forced to let go of what you have believed is "right."

I'm not saying it's any easier in improv, at least at first. You're scared, and all you have with you onstage is someone you barely know and your effing brilliant idea - naturally, you'll tend to cling to that idea. But as time goes by, you learn a few things, namely:

1. OUR idea is better than any idea that either you or I had been clinging to;
2. Holding onto something that tightly = strangling, which is what you'll do to your scene if you don't let go;
3. You're not the smartest or funniest person in the universe.

When you've experienced these things often enough, you'll learn to really believe they're true. And when you do, you will not even want to hold onto your agenda because you'll have discovered trust in the process, in yourself and in your partners. And that's when the real fun begins.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

What Improv Isn't

Tonight is the first night of a new session of beginning improv classes, which is when I always give the "what improv isn't" spiel. I've had a long break, so I figure I'll practice on you now. You're welcome.

First of all, improv is not standup. If you want to tell jokes and be the center of attention, that's awesome... but it's not improv.

Improv also is not effortless. Yes, good improv looks effortless. That's because good improvisors know the rules of improv and play by them. When you agree, add information and commit, you're halfway to a good improv scene. I've yammered about breaking the rules and I'll say it again: it's a higher percentage choice to play by the rules. Just because you're willing to gamble with the success of your scene, doesn't mean your scene partner is. Play fair. Not only that, but if you continually break the rules, your scene partners won't trust you. They might still like you - maybe even a lot - but they will never know when or if you're going to break the rules, which puts a big burden on them. FYI, people generally are not fond of big burdens.

Improv also is not "whatever makes me laugh." Nope. I laugh at my dog all the time and trust me, he doesn't know anything about improv. Just because you get a laugh in your scene doesn't mean you just did good improv. Going for the joke and belaboring innuendoes doesn't build an improv scene. Relationship builds an improv scene. Think of it this way: if the average 7th grade male will laugh his ass off at what you're about to say, maybe don't say it.

Finally, improv ain't easy. Learning anything new can be scary, and learning something like improv that forces you to respond instantaneously to something you never saw coming can be terrifying. It still scares the crap out of me. That's why I still take it. But if you accept that it's not going to be easy and then determine to learn all you can from it, it really will change your life.

If you're in one of the classes that starts this week, YAY YOU! Have a great time. If you're not - why not?!? The next round of classes is already filling up, so don't procrastinate!

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Letting My Body Be in Charge

This year, I'ma do improv more from my body and less from my head. People often tell me they are taking improv to learn to think faster on their feet, or listen better, or not judge themselves or others. And those are all awesome reasons to take improv. And improv will help you with those sorts of mental goals, because it helps take you out of the part of your brain that strategizes and plans and plots and judges, and helps you focus more on the part of your brain that listens and accepts and responds.

Yay!

But that's still your brain. I want to get out of my brain. One of Darren's goals for me is to have bigger stakes, to make things matter more in my scenes so I can have bigger reactions. The thing is, stuff DOES matter to me in my scenes, but in real life I'm so good at reacting calmly and "appropriately" and being a peacekeeper that I literally don't know how to have a huge reaction to stuff. Well, my brain doesn't, anyway. (Don't feel too sorry for my brain; it's good at plenty of other stuff, like justification and thinking fast and not going to Crazytown).

So I'm actually going to try to just respond to stuff in my scenes with more physicality. Maybe I'll slap people, or fall to the floor, or scream or... who knows?? My brain is throwing out the options IT can think of, but we'll see what I do when I let my body be in charge. This is a whole new, terrifying experiment for me. But hey, that's what improv's all about, right? I'll let you know how it goes.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Improv: The Secret Decoder Ring for Life

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: improv is magical. It's like some fantastical secret decoder ring that gives the wearer the power to do whatever it is they need to do. Yes, I'ma tell you why. C'mon, peeps, you know how I roll.

See, a while back I posted something on FB about being shy, and I got a bunch of snarky comments arguing the point. Technically, my friends were correct - I'm really not that shy anymore. But I was VERY shy before I started doing improv. And I can still be overcome with shyness from time to time, and in certain types of situations... but now I can put on a pretty good show of being reasonably comfortable, even when I'm not. And, more than that, I can recognize that I'm being shy and opt not to be; AND I have the tool to accomplish that. Which I'll share with you in a sec if you'll just hold on! Sheesh.

Another thing that I haven't really shared with people (yes, there are a few things I haven't blabbed on the interwebs - yet) is that I used to be more or less invisible. I could meet people a dozen times, and they would have no recollection of it. No one ever remembered my name (and it wasn't as fancy in the past as it is now). I would joke that I could be a spy because I was utterly forgettable. Except I don't know a lot of languages and my martial arts skills are negligible. Sigh.

Anyway, improv changed those things, and not because we give lessons on being outgoing and/or memorable. It's because we give lessons on being in the moment. And, if you ask me, being in the moment is the secret decoder ring for life. If you are truly present at each moment of your life, you get to live it fully without fear or self-judgment or just anything. I'm shy when I worry that people will judge me or dislike me or laugh at me (yes, I see the irony in the last one; that's fodder for another blog). But when I'm truly just PRESENT, I'm listening to people and responding to what they say, and my mind isn't spinning out into all those stupid what if's - and then I'm not shy.

As far as the invisible thing, there are psychological reasons a person might choose not to be noticed and I don't dispute them. But I would take it a step further and argue that you can take yourself so far out of the present moment that people honestly don't really notice you - even when they have multiple conversations with you. It's like you literally aren't there with them in that moment. By learning to be present, you can be with people and then, of course, they remember you.

There are countless other things that improv has improved for me and people I know, and I know it could help you with stuff, too. I mean, you know, if you had stuff you needed help with. Which I'm sure you don't. You're friggin' awesome.

Still, who doesn't want a secret decoder ring?

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Is She Your Wife? Or a Beekeeper?

One of the things that's difficult to convey to new (and even not-so-new) improv students is to spell everything out. Naturally, you don't want to insult the audience's intelligence, but you also can't assume they'll all be on the same page as you. If you call your scene partner honey, you may think that means she's your wife. It might. It might also mean she's

• your girlfriend
• your daughter
• a hooker
• someone you barely know
• your pet dog
• a beekeeper
• a woman named Honey
• an acquaintance whose name you can't remember
• I think you get my point

Everyone in the audience - not to mention your scene partner - will have associations with the word honey. And if they make an assumption that's different from yours, the scene doesn't make sense.

It doesn't just happen with relationships. You may think your information is crystal clear, but I can't tell you how many times I've critiqued a scene and the student tells me, "Oh, well, in my head, we were counting jumping beans and he was my 6th grade teacher, and we'd recently met again and now that I am 39 the age difference doesn't matter and I was trying to convince him to go out with me."

All right. Technically zero times for that specific example. But I do hear, "In my head, blah blah blah." Guess what? We're not in your head. You need to find a way to make that information clear and, ideally, in a relatively organic-sounding way. Don't worry about that organic-sounding thing at first; that will come with practice. But until you get there, exercises like Add Info Lineup, where each player spells out a specific piece of the puzzle (who, what, where, relationship), will help you get in the habit of spelling it all out. That's why, at H2G, we never stop doing Add Info. Getting out the foundation of a scene is a fundamental skill. Um, hello... professional baseball players still do batting practice, you know.

Being clear with your thoughts and information is helpful in real life, too, in case you hadn't noticed. In my experience, most misunderstandings come from muddled communication. If you don't spell out your position, your friend may make an assumption based on their own way of thinking - and if their assumption is different from what you have in your head, there's a good chance you're going to end up pissy at one another when you have that, "Uh. Whatever, you just don't get it" conversation.

So spell it out. In improv and in life, people appreciate knowing where you stand and what's in your head. So don't keep it locked up in there. What's in my head right now is, Ugh, I probably should've waited a few more hours after having the stomach flu to eat.

By Sonnjea Blackwell

Label Your Own Damn Self

Hello, and welcome to 2013. Let's cut right to the chase, shall we? The year can either happen to you, or you can make your year happen. And the difference largely lies in how you label yourself.

You know I'm always yammering on about labels in improv, right? Well, that's because if you and your scene partner(s) don't label yourselves and each other, you end up with a very vague, nebulous scene that just kinda happens. Some stuff happens, and some time passes and then, mercifully, it's over.

Guess what? If you don't label yourself in real life, you'll get the same result. Stuff will happen, time will pass and then, like it or not, it's all over. Even worse, if you don't label yourself in real life, others WILL - and then you will endeavor, perhaps subconsciously, perhaps consciously, to live up or down to their labels. In improv, it doesn't so much matter if you label yourself or if someone else does, as long as you are labeled and those labels build a character and a relationship.

In real life, IT FRIGGIN' MATTERS, PEOPLE. We get labeled the second we pop out of our mothers' nether regions... and our families, friends and societies keep heaping the labels on, fast and furious: pretty, smart, strong, ugly, lazy, dumb, shy, outgoing, mean, generous, rigid, hyper, boring, critical - UNTIL we take charge and label our own damn selves.

Maybe I WAS shy, or boring, or rigid. And maybe those behaviors served some purpose (even if that purpose was simply keeping peace with the parents or teachers who gave me those labels). But if they aren't serving me NOW, why the fuck should I cling to them? We hold on as if those labels are a life preserver, never realizing they're actually a big, useless anchor.

If no one had the power to tell you differently*, how would you label yourself? Who would you be, what would you do, who would you love, where would you go?

If you have trouble experiencing that much potential, try improv. It will help you get out of your comfort zone and be willing to take chances. It won't happen overnight, but it will happen. I promise.

*Oh, and guess what? No one does. You're welcome.

By Sonnjea Blackwell