In 2015, I took my first improv class. Several years and moves later, I’m finally taking a series of classes (I’m in level 3 of 6). This post is about why I started.
People relate to each other in all different ways.
Some make steady eye contact. Some nod when other people talk. Some interrupt with questions or with their own, probably more valid, stories. Some look for reasons to agree with each other.
Where my family comes from, there’s a culture of “No”. (Actually, it’s more like “No no no”). It can be in the style of “No, and”, which is how you agree with someone.
Isn’t Italian food your favorite?/No no no, it’s delicious.
We’re having pasta for dinner./No no no, it’s spaghetti.
Or it can be the more typical “No, but”.
Isn’t Italian food your favorite?/No no no, I prefer Thai.
We’re having pasta for dinner./No no no, eggs tonight, pasta tomorrow.
You know how in German, it’s possible to negate an entire sentence with a nicht at the very end? Well. In this case, instead of listening for yes or no to find out what someone thinks, you ignore the no-no-no completely and pay attention to what follows it instead.
What no really means is simply this: I’m talking now. It marks a shift of the spotlight.
But even though these nos carry zero weight as far as the substance of the conversation, they do influence its tone. You start with a word that implies denial. Negation. Rejection.
And maybe, over time, you internalize it.
What if you don’t like how you relate to others (and to yourself)?
On the one hand, I’m a problem solver. I have evidence! There was that broken seat-back pocket on a plane that I adjusted with two hair bands. There were the survey questions I suggested to help a friend understand why his research subjects acted the way they did. There was figuring out how to keep our visitors and ourselves happy with different levels of outdoor time and physical activity while maximizing time together. Plus, you know, lots of math classes.
But, when it comes to my own sticky problems? What sticks for me is that “no”. Even when I solicit feedback from other people, my default—for years—has been to look for reasons to reject it out of hand.
To be clear, I don’t reject the feedback or criticism. I’m pretty good at accepting those. Eventually.
What I reject is the proposed solution.
And I do want to do new and different things, in new and different ways.
It’s just that I don’t want to do it that way.
And yet… what if I’m missing out on something amazing by looking for reasons for why not to do X instead of why to do X?
And… why do I reject even my own ideas?
Maybe there’s another way.
So I signed up for an improv comedy class.
Even though I’m not a comedian. Even though I’m the person who laughs at the jokes, not the one who makes them. Even though, more often than not, my voice shakes when I’m talking in front of other people.
Luckily, improv isn’t about becoming a comedian.
Here’s what improv is about: Accepting suggestions.
Exactly what I suck at.
It’s about saying, “Yes, and…”, which means actively accepting a suggestion: not only accepting it as true, but taking it to the next level. Heightening.
Here’s an example:
You and a scene partner are on stage. Your scene partner mimes brushing her teeth. You say, Ready for your date?
Guess what? This means there’s a reason for you, whoever you are to each other, to believe that she has a date coming up.
She still has options:
- She can be excited or nervous and say yes and talk about what she has left to do.
- She can say she canceled it because she ate some bad fish this afternoon and now she’s going to sleep it off.
- She can be exasperated and ask if you’re serious because just a towel isn’t really appropriate date attire.
- Or she can say something else, as long as it supports a reality where you would ask her about her upcoming date.
It also means you have to grapple with this:
The most difficult suggestion to accept can be the one in your own head.
You’re on stage (again). You ask for a suggestion of a non-geographic location and someone in the audience says ice cream shop.
And the most vivid association you have with an ice cream shop is getting broken up with, in front of a crowd, in high school.
Your scene partner is miming scooping ice cream into cups. Your first thought is to sob while ordering some flavor that your character will think represents heartbreak.
Your entire job in this moment is to “yes, and” yourself.
But you falter.
You think: Is this funny or just sad? Does it make sense? Am I giving away too much about myself? Will my partner support me?
Making the choice to accept what you come up with? It’s a fight against self-preservation. But it’s also a fun, silly, fascinating way to explore your own mind.
And the thing is, improv is a cooperative game. Your scene partner will support you.
Where better to practice accepting your wild self, finding out just what you’re capable of, than in a setting where everyone else will accept you, too?
This Glass Has Water 