This is a post about improv.

I’ve been in a bit of an improv rut for a little while.  To be honest, I’m not entirely sure when it began, but I do know that I’ve left scenes, and by extension, shows, feeling like I had left opportunities on the table – whether it’s for laughs, or for doing the best work I can.

Part of the problem stems from the fact that improv used to mainly involve this (fig. 1):

Improv when you’re first learning it.

It was a fairly easy formula.  Come up with something that you think would be fun and/or interesting, and do your best to play the role you find yourself in.  If you managed to combine the two, you had a successful improv scene.

Now, however, some of what I’m working on looks/feels more like this (fig. 2):

Improv when you’re trying to learn and apply more advanced techniques.

And to be honest, that’s a bit simplistic in and of itself – I can come up with a number of additional variables that I can throw in, but the diagram starts to get increasingly unwieldy.

It’s a little like working on your golf swing – when you’re at the driving range (or playing a practice round), you want to work on your technique.  On your shot selection.  On knowing when to use what club, and how to swing it.  On how to generate more power, or less, more spin, or less.

But when you’re playing a round with your friends, you just want to play.  You want to take your technique (wherever it’s at, since you’re not going to fix it during that round on the course) and maximize it, and play the best round you can, given where you are at that moment.

That’s what I’ve been lacking; I haven’t been able to perform in a show like it was a round of golf.  I’ve been too busy playing like I’m still on the driving range.

This is a post about improv.

There are, they say, three fundamental ways to learn things.  You can learn by doing.  You can learn by reading.  You can learn by watching/listening (lectures also fall into this third category).  I’ve always been pretty good at learning by any method, although the “learn by doing” method generally tends to lead to the best results for me.

I’m still relatively new to the world of improv – although I had been a fan of the art (and I do believe it is an art) in the past, I never felt compelled to try it until about two years ago, when I took my first class (I had to convince myself it would help my writing, which, to be fair to past me, it did.) and fell in love with it.

What started as a fun thing to try became a fun thing I do quite a lot of, especially now that I perform pretty regularly on a number of teams around LA (<shamelessplug> including Hooligan, every Friday at iO West! </shamelessplug>).

But there’s a problem with performing a lot.  You learn a ton, sure, and you have a good time, naturally, but you stop watching shows.  When I started classes, we were required to watch shows throughout the week.  Not only was it fun (and we were given passes to watch them for free, a nice perk), but it also taught us what to look for, what to strive for, what the people who are much, much better than us do (and even the mistakes that they still make!).  But when you perform a lot, you stop watching.  You keep performing, and rehearsing, and reading, but you stop watching.

And that’s sad.  Because last night I was reminded how much you can learn by watching.

I had a show (<shamelessplug> Thursday Night Formal, hosted by Corn & Pineapple, every second Thursday at iO West! </shamelessplug>) last night, and we invited a group called Big Bennessy to perform.  They’re comprised of veteran improvisers, all very talented, very smart, very funny people.

Watching them put on a show was so much fun, and so educational, it was incredible.  I was reminded just how much we learn when we’re watching, whether it’s understanding the structure of a joke, or the way someone remembers to keep acting in a scene even when they’re not involved in the current conversation, or just the sense that if you have something small to do you should just do it, and then when it turns into something else you should let it happen.

I was also reminded that I need to get back to watching shows.  And if you like improv, you should, too.