Author: mullaney

“And scene!” the teacher says as she finishes scribbling a note.

The two students stop their scene and stare at the floor in front of them, waiting for their notes. They know that their scene wasn’t good. It was a frustrating scene to perform. They know they made lots of mistakes, although they wouldn’t be able to name them if asked.

“Well, there were a lot of problems in that scene,” the teacher begins. “You two weren’t on the same page. Steve, you kept trying to make the scene about your ESP powers. It’s ironic since you weren’t listening. And Carol, you kept talking about your problems at the office. Those people aren’t in the scene, why are you talking about them?”

The notes continue for some time as the teacher lists several more mistakes. You can hear the disappointment and frustration in her voice. These are all notes she has given before. The two students feel awful, almost ashamed, and the rest of the class shifts awkwardly in their seats. The only happy thought among them is that it’s not them who are getting dressed down.

Finally the teacher asks them to try again. She gets a new suggestion of a location and has the same two students improvise a scene. This time they aren’t making the same mistakes, but that is because they don’t seem to be making any decisions at all. They are in their head, the scene is stilted, their play overly cautious.

“And scene!” The teacher stops it again and gives them even more notes.

Negative Notes

I would think that most improvisors can relate to this scenario. We have all been in classes or workshops where the teacher has taken the time to point out the flaws in our scenework. It doesn’t feel great when it’s happening. Sometimes, we feel like we have learned something from it, sometimes it’s just a negative memory. I certainly have my share of these kinds of memories, both as a student and a teacher.

The last time I was in Del’s class was one of those nights. He stopped every scene I was in. Over and over he told me that I wasn’t agreeing with my scene partner. It was a tough night. At the time, I didn’t quite know what he was getting at. I thought I was agreeing. I certainly wasn’t arguing. I think now that I understand what he was trying to tell me. I think I have pulled a positive nugget from that negative experience to help me. But honestly, I’m still not sure that I got his point.

So, is this the best way learn? When we make a mistake, is it best to have that mistake compounded by harsh notes from a disappointed teacher? I’m not sure to be honest. The negative feelings associated with that note can go a long way to carving it into our brain and into shaping our future choices. Like a child not wanting to get burned, our gut tells us to avoid doing the thing that got such a negative response in the past. We typically want the approval of those who are giving us notes, so if the negative note is correct, perhaps it can help guide us to avoid similar mistakes in the future. However, there’s something about it that just doesn’t feel right to me.

Positive Notes

One alternative comes to mind immediately. We might want to dwell on positive notes instead. When a student does something well, the teacher should offer generous praise for that specific good choice that the student made. This probably does not happen enough in improv classes. I’m guessing that the majority of notes that I’ve given over the years have been negative ones. My hunch is that specific positive notes are probably more effective than negative ones.

I’m not talking about empty flattery, that is no help and it may actually hurt the student. Some teachers cover their students with blankets of praise. But it does not help to tell students that they are “good” and “funny” without telling them what precisely they are doing so well. What choices did they make that were right and why? Tell them that, and you will help them.

Better Negative Notes

So should we give up on negative notes? I don’t think so. Negative notes serve a purpose. If a scene is bad, and if the note giver understands why the scene is bad, he or she should give that note. But why does it have to make everyone feel so bad? Perhaps there is a better way to give a note.

It starts with priming the students for negative notes. Explain to them that you want them to play as if no one is giving them notes. You want them to make whatever choice occurs to them in the moment. You want them to play from their gut and react to what is going on and to silence that inner critic while they perform.

Next, tell them that they will make mistakes, lots and lots of mistakes. That it’s ok to make mistakes. It gives us an opportunity to learn. And that if they can leave a class with one or two very specific notes about things they actually can change or work on, they should feel happy and optimistic, not depressed.

Then you have to change how you actually give the note. When you spot a mistake, be upbeat about it. Be excited that you have an opportunity to give them a constructive note. When possible, give them a proactive alternative to their choice. Don’t just tell them to not ask questions, tell them to make statements that establish information instead. Mostly, it’s about tone though. Turn mistakes into opportunities. Be upbeat when you give them a note and be specific. And most of all, don’t keep them up on stage for a long time while you are giving them the note. Be brief, and then ask them to try again or sit down.

More Practice, Less Notes

What if students keep making the same mistake over and over? Find or create some exercises which specifically target that problem and use that exercise until they no longer make that mistake (this might be something you spend only part of your time on, spread over several classes). Treat it as a fun drill, and work on it until it becomes second nature. Giving a student a note over and over again is not the most effective way to learn something. Instead, they need to practice the right way to do something.

By the way, I was listening to Improvised New York today. They were interviewing Armando Diaz from the Magnet Theater and he put it this way:

It doesn’t do you any good if I give you a long lecture on shooting a basket; you shoot a basket; you miss; and then I give you another lecture on it.

Yesterday, I uploaded episode #10 of my improv podcast. This week my guest is Kurt Braunohler. I really enjoyed this conversation. We began by talking about how one goes about teaching Harold, but we quickly moved on to other topics like solo improv, image streaming and viewpoints. Finally we talked briefly about Caligula, an exercise that we talked about in the Susan Messing podcast.

Kurt is a teacher and performer at the People’s Improv Theater. He can be seen performing with Big Black Car and The Faculty. He is also a stand up comedian and performs at various venues around NYC. Several of his shows have appeared at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. He has also appeared at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with his comedy partner, Kristen Schaal.

I uploaded episode #9 of the IRC Podcast yesterday. My guest this week is Lillian Frances who owns and runs the Laugh Out Loud Theater in Schaumburg, IL. She talks about auditions, teaching kids, using your warmups well, and yes-anding life. She performed at iO Theater and with many improv groups in Chicago. She was also a perfomer and assistant director for Boom Chicago in Amsterdam. She directed for Second City National Touring Company, the all women’ improv groups Jane and Sirens, and sketch shows with GayCo and Stir Friday Night.

This interview was a little different than the others, because we ended up talking a lot about what it’s like to run the business of a small improv theater. I really like how Lillie talks about her performers. It’s obvious that she has a lot of respect for her performers and trusts them in ways that not all improv directors do. It’s not surprising that several years after she first held auditions, seventeen of her first hires still work for her.

When working with a script, an actor knows a lot about the scene they are about to perform. They know where the scene takes place and who their character is. They know the relationship between themselves and the other characters in the scene. They know what they are going to say. And if they are properly prepared, they know what their character wants and what actions they will do to try to get it.

When an improviser begins a scene, they know none of these things. They face a stage that could become any setting they can imagine. They can play any character they choose and so can their scene partner. Their choices are infinite. So at the beginning of an improvised scene, the most important thing they must accomplish is to decide on the circumstances of the scene. And the most important tool for deciding those circumstances is agreement.

Simply put, an improviser must agree to all facts and circumstances that their scene partner establishes via dialogue, behavior or action. If I say that I’m a plumber, you must agree that I’m a plumber. If you act like you are in car, I must accept that. If I say that we are in an airport bar, set down your luggage and grab a drink.

For instance, let’s say a player named Molly begins a scene by sitting down and beginning to type something. Next her scene partner Jed enters and says, “I’ve got those numbers for your report, ma’am,” and hands her some papers. The two of them have begun to create the circumstances of the scene. You might think that there isn’t much to this scene, that they don’t have much that they can agree on yet. Actually they already have quite a lot. Namely, that Molly is using a device with a keyboard; she’s working on a report; and that Jed is helping her with the report. This seems pretty obvious, but you would be surprised how often a player will respond by saying something like, “I’m not working on a report, you moron. I’m writing the great American novel.” That is the opposite of agreement. That is called denial.

Agreement doesn’t just apply to indisputable facts. It also applies to those things that might not be said, but are implied in our actions or our words. In the example above, we might assume that the characters work together in an office, and that Jed works for the Molly (he called her ma’am, after all). It’s possible to come to other conclusions about what facts have been implied, and it would be fine to act on them. But whatever the players add to this scene, they need to add information which fits with everything they have established and implied.

Yes Anding

Beyond simply agreeing with their partner, players should add information to the scene with each action or line of dialogue, at least at the beginning. This is often called “yes-anding” your scene partner. Again in the example above, Jed didn’t just enter the scene and say, “I see you’re typing.” That would have simply stopped at agreement. Instead, he added to the circumstances of the scene. They now know that they are working on a report together, and they are one step closer to having a good scene.

Yes-anding is crucial to creating interesting and unique scenes. A good visual analogy is that of a ping pong game. One player serves the ball with their first line of dialogue or their first action. The other player returns the ball by responding to it. Each time the ball crosses the net, a new piece of information is added which makes the scene more specific. A scene shouldn’t begin with one player establishing everything by themselves. If you want to initiate a scene about a father and son pirate team who are about attack a British merchant ship during the American Revolution and who are struggling with their incestuous feelings for one another, write it out as a sketch. Don’t initiate it. It’s too much information for one player to establish without the input of their scene partner. It’s like refusing to serve the ball. What’s the point of improvising it with a partner? Instead, establish one or two things with your first action or line of dialogue and wait to see what your scene partner will do with it.

Other Facets of Agreement

One thing that agreement means is being agreeable at the beginning of a scene. This is not a universal truth, but it is a good principle to guide you through the beginning of a scene. Make choices that keep your characters in relative harmony. Don’t argue with each other. Choose a point of view which agrees with your scene partner. Choose to like the situation that your character is in. What happens all too often at the beginning of a scene, is that one player will pick a fight with the other, many times over issues that are completely trivial. Nothing can tank a scene faster than a fight over something trivial.

You should also generally be agreeable about actions proposed by your scene partner. If your partner says, “Let’s give the dog a bath,” then you should start running water in the tub or fetch the dog. Don’t think about it, don’t debate it, just do it, especially if it is an action that you can do on stage in the place you have established.

What if your scene partner suggests doing something that your character would not want to do? All the more reason for your character to do it. We as an audience like seeing characters do things they don’t want to do. For instance, your scene partner begins a scene by saying, “Finish your spinach, or you won’t get dessert.” Well, first thing to know is that you shouldn’t argue about it. Be agreeable, eat your spinach.

There is a bit more to it, however. The initiation implies that you do not like spinach, otherwise why would they insist that you finish it? You have to agree to that as well. You don’t like spinach. What do you do then? I just told you that you can’t argue about it, that you have to eat it. You do. You just don’t have to like eating it. It can be quite fun to watch a character do things they don’t want to do. So always remember: Do the thing that your character doesn’t want to do.

Differences of Opinion

One thing that agreement doesn’t mean is that the characters (as opposed to the players) must have identical opinions. If one player establishes that they are standing outside a pink house, the other player must agree that the house is pink. However, if the first player says that they like the color of the house, the other player could decide that their character isn’t so enthusiastic about it. Facts require agreement, matters of opinion don’t.

This can be a tricky concept for a new improviser or for one that has been brow beaten by teachers who never let characters disagree on stage. There are some who believe you can never say the word “no” in an improvisation. I think they are wrong. You can. Often you can create really incredible scenes with characters who can’t agree on anything at all. Note here that the players are still agreeing on all matters that are factual. Their character just might not have the same opinion on it.

This doesn’t mean to pick fights over trivial matters. While differences of opinion are not technically denial, the arguments that they cause are often destructive to good scene work, especially for beginners. Your first choice in any scene should be to make your character like the situation they find themselves in. Choose not to argue especially over little things. If it seems natural to have a dissenting opinion about the matter at hand, then give it a try. Even then, make sure you are not simply arguing. It’s much easier to keep a scene moving when the dissension is mild rather than a vicious argument.

Respect, Trust and Yes Anding

Agreement cuts both ways. You shouldn’t establish something your scene partner won’t want to do. That doesn’t mean something their character wouldn’t want to do, but instead something that they themselves would be uncomfortable doing on stage. This is almost always a judgment call and the standard is quite different depending on the sensibilities of the performers and the level of trust between them.

For instance, it might not be a good idea to start a scene by saying, “Take off your pants so I can ass-rape you.” There are some improvisers who would jump at the chance to do that scene, but many others would not. If you make an initiation which makes your scene partner uncomfortable and they refuse to agree to it, you have made the mistake, not them.

Higher Levels of Agreement

Let’s say your scene partner starts a scene by saying something like, “I’m really hungry. I wish I had something to eat.” They have initiated a problem. It might seem like responding with, “Look there’s an apple tree. Let’s get an apple,” would be a good idea. However, by solving the problem you have denied them. To yes-and a problem, you make the problem worse. A better response might be to say, “There’s a restaurant down the road, but it will take a couple of hours to get there on foot.” In effect you are saying, “Yes you are hungry, and you won’t be eating anytime soon.”

Creating problems and making them worse is a great tool for making interesting scenes. Discover a zit on the face of a character who is vain. If you find yourself in room with a dangerous looking robot, make the doors locked. If someone is looking for their lost dog, tell them that you saw one get run over. If someone asks if their wedding dress makes them look fat, say yes.

Another common mistake players make is to defend themselves. It’s a natural tendency to do this in real life. But it doesn’t help you in an improvisation. If someone accuses you of something or establishes that you have a negative character trait, don’t dispute it, agree to it. If they say, “You’re always so mean to me.” Be mean to them. If they accuse you of cheating on them, admit that you have and be proud of it. If someone makes your character a racist, embrace that trait. It is fun to be an asshole on stage, and if someone establishes that about your character, treat it as a gift.

Agreeing to Absurdity

What if your scene partner establishes something absurd or crazy? Do you agree with it? That depends on what exactly they initiated, but there are generally two different ways to deal with it.

The first way is to treat the initiation as absurd. Say that you are in the stands at a little league baseball game with the parent of another child. And suppose that they tell you if their child loses that they are going to kill the child’s dog. Obviously, they have established themselves as an absurd character, an exaggeration of an overzealous little league parent. If you were to simply say, “Oh that’s nice.” You aren’t yes anding the fact that they are crazy. In a way you are ignoring it, and thus denying them. Instead, you should confront the absurdity a little more head on. Try saying something like, “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” That would give the absurd character a chance to elucidate and elaborate their point of view.

The second way to deal with this initiation is treat their absurdity as if it is the most normal thing in the world. Say to them, “I hope you kill it in front of them. That will teach them the importance of good sportsmanship.” In the first example you are taking their initiation and making them an absurd character. In the second example you are making the world of the scene into an absurd world.

At first glance, agreement is a rather simple and straightforward concept, one basic rule among many that every improviser must learn. But it is far more pervasive than that. Agreement is the very foundation of improvisation and it affects every aspect of your improvised work. It is the closest thing we have to a golden rule or a fundamental theorem. Agreement will never be something you master and then move on from. Instead, it will continue to guide you and challenge you with every scene you create.

I originally wrote this in January of 2001 and posted it on the Improv Resource Center as the Fundamentals of Agreement. I decided to take another look at this and republish it here. Rereading it, I thought there were a number of small things I would change, but after some consideration, I left it mostly as it was. However, I did add a couple of sentences near the end to clarify a point.

Episode #8 of the IRC Podcast has just been uploaded. This week’s guest is Susan Messing. She performs regularly at the Annoyance Theatre in Chicago, where she teaches level four classes. She created the curriculum for level 2 at iO Theatre and teaches there as well. Among the episodes we discuss are Caligula, Busby Berkeley, and Doublemint Twins.

She can be seen performing every Thursday at 10:30 in Messing with a Friend at the Annoyance.

If you were studying to be an airline pilot, you would have to log many hours in flying simulators. It’s my understanding that these simulators are often programmed to put the pilot into crisis situations: the cabin loses pressure, an engine catches fire, one of the many mechanical systems fail. The trainee goes through the simulation and tries various strategies to get out of the crisis and land the plane. Sometimes they fail, sometimes they figure out a solution. After the simulation is done, a trainer reviews what the trainee did and gives them feedback. They then try again to see if they can do better the next time.

Imagine if you had a similar machine for improv training. Maybe it works a bit like the Holodeck from Star Trek. You program it so that a student can go in and practice certain nightmare scenarios, like a belligerent scene partner or one that fails to add anything to the scene, stands there blankly and occasionally asks questions like, “Where are we?” The student could run the simulation over and over again, trying one strategy after another to see if they can survive the scene.

What might be some improv crisis situations that you would like programmed into the machine so that you could practice?

Cross posted at the Improv Resource Center

Recently I was talking to a guy who I have been coaching. He is probably 19 or 20. We were walking into a music room for rehearsal and he said something along the lines of, “I wish I had taken more music classes,” as if it were too late for him. I’m sure I’m taking his words a bit out of context, but it made me laugh, because I couldn’t help thinking of John Ward.

John “Dr. Wimpy” Ward, was a very dedicated and passionate member of the New York improv scene over the last eight years. He took classes, performed and was a huge supporter of others. He often appeared as an agent with Improv Everywhere. He was a funny man and by all accounts a joy to play with. He started doing improv in his mid 50s. This last Sunday he passed away very unexpectedly.

Auditions for improv teams were held the weekend before he died at the UCB Theatre. It’s a collective freakout the community goes through every year as hundreds of UCB students compete for a handful of coveted spots on Harold teams. And among the hundreds of hopeful 20 something kids, desperately wanting to be on a team, was John Ward, a man in his 60s who looked remarkably like my childhood vision of Santa Claus. He was one of the few that got a call back, and I bet he was as thrilled as anyone to be seriously considered for a team.

It’s hard to resist the urge to reduce a man’s life down to a simple life lesson. I’m sure there was much more to John than his improv career, judging from the stories trickling in about his life before improv. But his example is an obvious slap in the face to anyone who thinks that it’s too late for them to be an actor, a musician, a writer or a comic.

If you’d like to learn a bit more about John, I’ve included some links:

• A tribute on the Improv Everywhere site
• A thread on the Improv Resource Center following the news of his passing
• John’s page in the IRC wiki

If you knew John and have things you’d like to share about him, please feel free to add them to his wiki page.

Episode #7 of the IRC Podcast has just been uploaded.

This week my guest is Billy Merritt who performs and teaches at the UCB Theatre in LA. We talk about premise based Harolds (Pirate Harolds, Robot Harolds and Ninja Harolds) and his character based performance classes where he has his students to create a single character over eight weeks. We also discuss character wheels, the cube edit and the hawk edit.

I’ve never been the most organized person. I can be passionate, dedicated and sometimes obsessive about the things I love doing, but organization doesn’t come naturally to me. One thing I’ve tried before is little “To Do” lists, but it’s not something I’ve done often or methodically. Recently that has changed.

I first started thinking about this because of Checklist Manifesto, a book by Atul Gawande. I have not read the book yet, but I’ve heard several interviews of him. The book is about how checklists for complicated procedures help minimize mistakes and save lives. He is a surgeon and he has seen how a simple checklist for a surgical procedure can dramatically reduce the number of complications. I don’t do anything as grave as surgery, but there are a lot of things I want to accomplish each day. I thought checklists might help and started using them.

My first checklist was a weekly one. Initially, I drew up a list of daily tasks. I realized quickly that I didn’t have enough time each day to do all these things. So I cut the list of daily activities to a minimum. However, there were plenty of other things I wanted to do, some only once a week, others several times a week. So I added those to my weekly checklist too. For example, I want to practice guitar every day, so there are seven boxes next to it on the list. Other items may have only one box next to it, like doing payroll for my mother’s home health care workers which I do every Monday. I have four boxes next to exercise. I don’t care which days I work out, as long as I work out three or four times during the week. My final task for each week is to review, edit and print my checklist for the next week.

After using that checklist for a month or so, I decided that I needed a separate checklist for my podcast. This is what I’d call a procedural checklist. It contains a series of steps for a single task or project. Usually the tasks should be completed in a particular order. The checklist for my podcast has been evolving over the past few episodes and it now has 28 steps, from the first email to ask someone if they will do the podcast, to backing up all the audio files when I’m done.

It may seem like I’m creating a lot of work for myself, but I think it’s really the opposite. I’ve found that if I do some preparation before the interview, the interview will go much more smoothly than if I wing it. I’ve also found that if I conduct the interview well, the editing goes much better and takes less time. Finally, by codifying the steps for promoting it, I get that part done quickly and painlessly.

Of the two types of checklists, the weekly “To Do” list and the procedural list, I think the latter is more effective and worthwhile. I don’t think there has been a single week where I have accomplished every task on my weekly checklist. Perhaps I have accomplished more than I would have otherwise. But I think checklists really begin to shine when you use them to walk you through a process you do over and over again. I am really happy with the result. A checklist helps me eliminate mistakes, keeps me focused on only the task I’m currently doing, and raises the quality of my work overall. It also provides me with a method to review my work and improve every time I do a podcast, by translating what I learn into new steps.

I think this might have a profound impact on my teaching in the future. I’ve always had a plan for my classes. Sometimes there is a curriculum to follow. Sometimes I come in with a number of options. Sometimes I figure out what I’m going to do on the way to class or drastically change course in the middle. I’m sure there are things I have learned when teaching something that are now long gone from my memory. In the future, I’m going to write out my plans more carefully, probably with branches and options, but definitely with steps. Each time I come back to a particular lesson plan, it will contain within the procedure many of the nuggets I’ve learned from the previous attempts to teach that lesson plan.

Over the last few days, I’ve taken what I’ve learned from the podcast checklist and tried to apply it to other things. I have a short procedure to go through when I sit down to practice my guitar. I’m working on some lesson plans for practicing improv by myself. I even came up with a procedure to write blog entries. This is the first attempt to follow that procedure and it seems to have been beneficial, keeping me focused and on track and producing a post which I hope is more useful than if I used my previous method: stare at a blank page, type stuff and edit until I have something I’m not embarrassed to publish. I’m convinced that using checklists would be beneficial for other creative uses like rehearsal procedures, show checklists, video projects, etc.

A checklist app for the iPhone and iPod Touch

I downloaded a checklist app for my iPod Touch. It is quite useful. It’s called Quick Checklists. This is a great app for those shorter lists that you might use often, like writing a blog post or working out at the gym. You can create a template for a list and easily make changes to it on the fly, or change the template for future use. It’s perfect for my purposes. I’ll keep my paper checklists for more involved projects, but for day to day stuff, this app is great.

My checklist for blogging

For those of you interested in my blog checklist, here it is (some of these only apply to WordPress blogs):

• Choose a topic
• Research via the web, books, talking to others on the subject, etc.
• Brainstorm thesis or basic point of the post
• Write outline
• Write post
• Take a break
• Edit for clarity
• Read aloud
• Edit for readability
• Title it
• Add links
• Find image or media to accompany it
• Insert the “more” code
• Choose excerpt
• Add tags and category designations
• Publish
• Plug it on Twitter, Facebook, etc

Episode #6 of the IRC Podcast has just been uploaded to the site. This week, I talk to Caitlin Tegart, a sketch writer and director who teaches for the UCB Theatre in NYC. We discuss how sketch writers can help themselves by not worrying about how good an idea is, that instead they need to simply get their ideas onto the page. We also discuss the process of taking a bunch sketches and turning them into a show.

Caitlin’s work as a writer can be seen at omgoose.com and ucbcomedy.com (with her beta team Diamonds, Wow!).

And don’t forget to become at fan of the podcast on Facebook:

Improvisors often go through a stage where they do nothing but improvise. Every night of the week they are going to classes or rehearsals, they are seeing improv shows or performing in ones themselves. This focus on improvisation can lead to great strides in their skill and knowledge of improvisational theater, but it can also insulate them. If our job as artists is to bring the truth of our lives on stage and all we know is the truth we see in other improv shows, we do not have much to offer an audience. To be great we must be seeking out experiences so we have something interesting to share.

Here is a list of things I think improvisors should spend their time doing besides improvising:

1. Learn to act – some people are actors before they come to improv. Many are not. These days many improvisors start by going to see an improv show and signing up for a class with no prior experience performing. There is nothing wrong with that, but if you don’t have training as an actor and you want to be great, get some. And take opportunities to act, especially in plays, but also in video projects, sketch shows, etc.
2. Go to the theater – don’t just watch improv shows, get out to the regular theater and watch some plays. You might not think of yourself as a fan of theater. Get out there and see a variety of plays, contemporary plays, classic plays, Shakespeare, original plays and one person shows. You will get some great ideas for characters, situations and techniques to use in your shows. When you think you have seen all kinds of theater, keep going, but instead of watching plays, see everything else. Go see performance art or dance or clown shows. Watch live music or opera. Go see stand up or variety shows. Go see a lecture or watch a religious ceremony. Within an improvised show, you can put anything else that might work on stage. As Del use to say, “Harold eats everything,” so make sure to feed Harold a diet with lots of variety.
3. Read books – like watching theater, reading books should give you lots of ideas for your scenework. You should read both non-fiction and fiction. You will glean ideas about characters, settings and story lines, store up lots of details and specifics that will spill out into your scenes.
4. Watch movies – especially movies that have unique and interesting points of view or use novel storytelling techniques. If you live in a major metropolitan center, seek out smaller, independent movies that have a certain buzz around them. You will want to see some bigger blockbuster movies too, so that you understand what is happening when someone starts a scene on planet Pandora. But if you want to get interesting ideas for how to put together shows, you want to see movies like Short Cuts, 500 Days of Summer, Memento, Pulp Fiction, Magnolia, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the more unconventional a movie is, the better.
5. Know the news – find a good source of news and consume it regularly. Listen to NPR on the way to work. Read a good newspaper. Find some interesting podcasts. Read books about current events. Find a magazine with in-depth, thoughtful articles. If you are going to get onstage and take suggestions from an audience, you better know what’s going on in the world.
6. Develop a secondary performance skill – learn to play music or sing. Learn to perform magic. Study dance, clowning or some other movement based art form.
7. Write – keep a journal. Write short plays or sketches. Write character monologues. Write erotica (and send me a copy). Write top 10 lists. Write jokes. Write your mom. It doesn’t matter, just write.
8. Meet new people – don’t just hang out with other improvisors. Find some other channel to meet new people and keep a line open to old friends. Learn how to start conversations with strangers and do it often. Hang out with your weird relatives. Make a point to ask about their lives and their experiences. Do they believe something different than you? Ask them to tell you about their religious or political views or their philosophy of life. Make them tell you all their best stories. Don’t debate them. Just listen, and ask questions.
9. Have new experiences – try something you have never tried before. Learn how to shoot a gun or ride a motorcycle. Ski. Take a cooking class or join a volleyball league. Like a writer, the more life experience you have, the more you have to share on stage. As a bonus, it will also help you meet new people.
10. Travel – travel whenever you can. Get to know the corners of your country, but travel abroad as well. When you do, make sure you meet new people and ask them all about themselves.

There are a couple things I notice about this list after writing it. First, I like to give advice, but really I’m giving advice to myself. Some of these I do, some I wish I had done more, some I’m working on right now. But they are all things I want to do more often. Second, a lot of these cost money. Many improvisors have trouble scraping together enough money for classes let alone all these extras. However, a lot of these don’t cost money or can be done cheaply. Besides you won’t have enough time to do all of them. Pick a few that you do think you can work into your routine and that don’t cost a lot. These are just some ideas to get you thinking.

Episode #5 of the IRC Podcast has just been uploaded. Tara Defrancisco is a former member of the Second City Touring Company. She performs and teaches for iO Theater and ComedySportz in Chicago. She discusses several exercises she uses in her classes and workshops. We start by talking about "What’s in the Box?" a short form exercise to help people make quick decisions and to yes and those decisions. Next we talk about an exercise where students initiate scenes as if they are expressing an important idea to a real person in their life. Last we discuss a couple of exercises designed to get students to make new and different character choices in their scenes.

I’d like to note that we mention Susan Messing (Annoyance and iO) and Noah Gregoropoulos (iO) during the podcast but only mention their first names.

For more info on Tara, check out her website, TaraDefrancisco.com. And don’t forget to become at fan of the podcast on Facebook:

About a month ago, I changed my eating habits quite drastically. This is an update on how it’s going.

First off, I’m mostly over my cravings. I no longer feel like I did when I was quitting smoking. In the first week, I was a bit obsessed with food, and I never felt satiated. Now, I’m feeling much more in balance and less obsessed. If there is a sugary treat in front of me, I do find it hard to resist, but if none is around, I’m not thinking about it. Secondly, I’m feeling much fuller when I eat then I did before I started this. I can eat a serving of spinach and a poached egg and feel very satisfied for several hours. When I eat an average sized meal, I will often feel stuffed. I’m having no trouble feeling satiated by simple vegetables, meat, whole grain bread and brown rice. I’m still having butter on my toast and drinking whole milk, but I don’t need it to feel full.

I have continued to lose weight, almost 10 pounds since I started. I think I would have lost more by now, except that every weekend, I’ve ended up going off the diet for a meal or two and gaining some back. I lose weight all week only to bounce on the weekend from some restaurant meals or a house party. Still, by mid week I seem to be on track again. I anticipate having less trouble with this over the coming weeks, since my Saturday plans will not be including many parties or meals at restaurants.

I would definitely recommend this approach, however, you most likely will have to stay on the plan indefinitely to keep the weight off. I think you would be able to indulge in the occasional treat, but the bulk of your eating would have to remain, whole, unprocessed foods, simply cooked.

This is not a short cut. That’s fine with me. And I think it allows for occasionally eating more indulgent meals. I’m not sure how much I want them though. Yesterday, I had a lovely piece of chicken, some asparagus and some brown rice for dinner. It tasted great.

Unprocessed Food Diet

Episode #4 of the IRC Podcast has just been uploaded. Kevin Hines is a performer and teacher at the UCB Theatre in NYC. We begin by talking about a couple of exercises he uses to get students reacting quicker and more realistically to twists and turns in their scenes. We next talk about The Macroscene, a show that came out of his last performance class. Finally, we discuss an exercise he uses to rehearse third beats for Harolds.

To take a class with Kevin, check out the classes page at UCBTheatre.com. He can be seen performing with Reubin Williams on Saturday nights and also writes videos for UCBComedy.com.

Now you can become a fan of the IRC Podcast on Facebook:

Episode #3 of the IRC Podcast is up and ready. This week my guest is Matt Donnelly who shares a couple exercises he uses in his workshops. The first he calls History, Philosophy, Metaphor and it’s a way to deepen the beginning of scenes by asking students to take an underdeveloped detail of a scene and elaborate using one of three techniques. Next we talk about Bull, Matador a method of creating and playing games which asks which character is vulnerable and then puts the players in either the role of a bull or a matador.

Matt, currently lives in Las Vegas where he teaches with Improv Vegas. When he is in NYC, he teaches workshops at the The PIT.

• “We don’t do short form, we do long form. It’s much more sophisticated and interesting.”
• “Improv? I don’t do improv comedy. I do improvisational theater!”
• “You know how they are so obsessed with game? Well we just follow our gut and let what’s funny take care of itself.”

Odds are, if you are an improvisor, you have said something like this when describing your work. You might even have some statement like this in the description of your group or show, maybe even your personal bio. And maybe you have heard someone else say something similar, contrasting what they do with what you do and casting your work in a negative light. Chances are you have felt that defensive lurch in your belly, a wave of anger as you think of things to say in response, to put them in their place.

Me? I’ve been on both sides of this. Gems like this fell out of my mouth quite regularly in my 20s (and probably well into my 30s). I was passionate about the kind of improv I was doing and convinced that there was no better place in the world to study it than where Del Close taught. I wasn’t above being arrogant about my training and the shows I helped conceive. And I certainly wasn’t above putting some other show or theater or group or genre down when describing my work, even if I had never seen what I was putting down.

I’ve also been on the other side and know what it feels like when someone puts down what I do, when describing their work. I still get a little irritated when I think back to someone who used to describe Harold as a “middle form” and her show as true long form. Even to this day, more than 10 years later, I still feel irritated by some of her statements along these lines. She wasn’t from iO. She didn’t study with Del. How could she possibly say that?

Of course, like I said, I’ve done that myself, many times. I’m sure there are people out there who may not like me very much because of similar things that came out of my mouth, or things I posted on the internet.

So this leads me to a new rule for myself (and maybe one for you too):

Don’t put someone else’s work down, when you describe your work

Every time you do something like that, you run the chance of alienating someone unnecessarily. Instead, just describe what you do and be done with it. Talk about your work using positive, affirmative descriptions and if you mention someone else, make sure you are doing it to clarify what you mean, not to place your work above theirs:

• “We improvise plays, with the goal of creating real, nuanced interesting characters and situations.”
• “We play fast and hard. We want your gut to hurt from laughing when the show is over and for you to keep laughing for days after.”
• “We call what we do improvised theater because often it’s a mix of drama and comedy.”

I’ll give you a good positive example of this. I recently heard an interview of a couple of the guys from Centralia. One of them talked about the early days of Burn Manhattan and how they wanted to somehow combine elements from two different kinds of Chicago theater, the raw, emotional power of Steppenwolf with the spontaneous, creative fun of Second City. He didn’t put down either Steppenwolf or Second City. Instead he was praising both theaters and wanted to find out how to combine some of the best methods and ascetics from both places. He used other people’s work as a way to describe what he does, without putting what they do down.

This is the third part in a series about how Dale Carnegie’s book (How to Win Friends and Influence People) might apply to the improv and theatre world. (Part 1, Part 2)

What is the unprocessed food diet? It’s pretty simple. Follow these guidelines when preparing food for yourself.

1. Eat unprocessed, whole foods like meat, eggs, nuts, vegetables, fruit. Buy it fresh when possible, but frozen is fine too.
2. Cook foods simply without adding oil, spices, sugar, salt or anything else.
3. Do not mix foods together.
4. Eat smaller portions than you are used to.
5. Eat as often as you like, and as much as you like overall–no need to count calories.
6. Eat as many of your meals like this as you can, and especially avoid chain restaurant meals and processed foods from the supermarket.

Here are some sample recipes:

• Fill a 1 quart microwavable dish with fresh spinach to the brim. Cover and cook on high 2 1/2 – 3 minutes.
• Grill a piece of chicken or fish until done using only a little unflavored Pam if necessary
• Wash and slice a tomato.
• Clean some mushrooms and boil them for 20 minutes

I think you get the idea.

I have been on the diet for about two weeks now. For the previous two months, my weight bounced around from between 191 to 196 pounds. I didn’t weigh myself on the day I started, but lets assume I was 192 pounds around February 2nd. On February 9, after doing this for about a week off and on, I was 190 pounds. This morning, after the 2nd week, I am 187 pounds (my lowest weight for the week was 186 pounds). This is the first time I’ve cracked 190 pounds since August of last year and I have been exercising and trying to eat well this whole time. So it seems to be working.

It is not necessarily the easiest way to lose weight. While I can fill myself up on these foods, I often do not feel satisfied. I also found myself gorging on a seven layer dip at a party when I was given the chance. I also feel a bit like I’m trying to break an addiction, to what in particular, I don’t know. But I often have the feeling of my belly being full, but my tongue craving some taste or sensation that it’s not getting. This is beginning to diminish, but it’s still there.

While I’m trying to do this as much as possible, I’m also still eating a few of my meals out at restaurants or at functions where my friends might bring some food. I also anticipate that as time goes by and I get closer to my goal, I’ll be able to loosen this up a bit, still eating many of my meals like this, but perhaps adding some seasoning and homemade sauces back into the mix.

UPDATE 2/17: I think I found another way to give me that satiated, satisfied feeling when I’m full but still seem to want more food. Yesterday I drank a glass of organic whole milk. It seemed to do the trick. I am going to try drink a small glass (6 oz) to cap off my hunger after meals and at the end of the day.

UPDATE 2/18: Adding this chart to see progress.
My Weight Chart:

Episode #2 of the IRC Podcast is up and ready to go. My guest this week is Jill Bernard from HUGE Theater and Comedy Sportz in Minneapolis. She shares some exercises she uses in her classes. She describes a warm up called Loser Ball which teaches students to embrace failures. Next she talks about an exercise where only one player speaks and the other remains silent. We also talk about an exercise, morphed from a Meisner exercise, where she gets her students to actually do something, rather than pretend to do something.

If you are interested in taking classes with her, visit hugetheater.com.

My intent with this series of posts was to go through all the principles from Dale Carnegie’s book and discuss how each one might apply to the improv world. But as I have been thinking about this topic, I have been tempted to wander down a different path. I may still return to the original plan, but I don’t think I’ll be able to until I’ve written about this.

I’ve been thinking of my own interactions with people over the years, where I did well and where I came up short. I feel like there are some situations and stories I’d like to share that might help me in my future interactions in the theatre and comedy worlds. One thing I’ve been thinking a lot about is status.

Pay less attention to status

I remember when I was in Chicago, I was intensely aware of status within the improv world. I was a part of many conversations that likened the ImprovOlympic subculture to a second high school. The new students were the freshman. After a few classes you might find yourself on a team and begin to feel like a sophomore. The players on house teams felt like the upperclassman, the cool juniors and seniors, with whom everyone wanted to hang out. And that was just the status within iO. There were similar communities at Second City and the Annoyance and while you might feel like a big dog at one theatre, you might be considered a peon at another.

Your status was determined by several things, your talent, how long you had been in the community, what team you were on. Your status was higher if you were a coach or a teacher. And of course, like in any community if you were well liked by your peers, that tended to raise your status.

I remember feeling at the time, that my personal status had a lot to do with how long I had been around the theater. I felt deferential to some players because they had been there a year or two longer than I had. And I also felt entitled to a greater status because someone started taking classes six months after I did. I spent six years at iO, four of them on the house team. I was a coach, a director and a teacher there. I remember feeling like I had a certain status there, one that I had earned.

Now here is where the story becomes particularly unflattering for me. Anyone who knows iO, knows there is a long running show on Monday nights which features “iO’s most accomplished performers and alumni.” I wanted badly to be in this show, but while I was respected as a performer and certainly valued as a coach and a teacher, I had to wait to play in that show.

For a long time, it didn’t bother me much. The people who were invited to play were players who had been around longer than me and were great performers. Even in the early days of that show, some people from my generation were invited to play. However, they were clearly performers who were better than me, and I didn’t mind at all that they were getting a chance that I wanted. As the months and years went by, more and more of my peers were invited to do the show. Eventually even some of my teammates were regulars in that show, but not me. I felt this was a good thing. I was getting closer, moving up the queue. It wouldn’t be long now when Noah or Charna would give me the nod to play one Monday night.

And then I got skipped over. They started inviting one or two people to play who I had coached or taught. If I remember correctly there was even someone who started performing in the show while he was still in classes. I thought I was at the top of my imaginary waiting list for the show, but apparently I was wrong. It wasn’t about how long you had been waiting to perform in that show, it was about how talented you were and how ready you were to be in that show, and really that’s how it should be.

I know I have been in other situations since where I valued one person over another simply because they have been around longer. Being around longer should mean something. If someone has spent five years performing at a particular theater, their experience and their loyalty should count, especially if that experience makes them a better performer. But ability should always trump status when we are talking about casting someone in a show.

One thing that is easy for me to forget, is that people have all kinds of experience and talent beyond what I first notice. This might be their first class in long form improv comedy, but they may have been an actor for years. Perhaps they are a musician who understands many of the concepts I am teaching implicitly already. And maybe, they have worked for years for another theater and they know a hell of a lot more than me. I have certainly taught many people over the years who had more raw talent than I did.

So, I hope I can really put this into practice. I think the older I get, the more I realize that this status is less important than I once thought. There was a time when I only wanted to be coached or taught by people who had been doing this longer than I have, but I realize now that I have a lot to learn still, and that there are a lot of people younger than me with less experience than me who nonetheless have a lot to offer.

Over the years, I’ve sometimes been in the position to cast people for shows, to pick people for teams or decide which shows should get a run at a theater and which should not. I always hoped that I was making the best decisions I could. In those positions, the most important factors should be how good are they or their show and do I want to work with them. Their status inside the theater community shouldn’t be all that important. And yet I know it is. Why? Because people get upset. The actor who has been at the theater for years might feel slighted if they aren’t cast as the lead. The most veteran team is sure to feel passed over if the most plumb time slot is given to a newer team. The politics inherent in decisions like this still makes my head hurt even though it’s been years since I’ve had to make one.

Everyone thinks they just want their fair share, what they deserve because of their status. But really we all want more, more than is collectively available, and so a lot of people feel bitter in the end. If you ever catch yourself thinking something like, “I should be in that show, because I’ve paid my dues,” or “Why does she get to teach that class, I’ve been around here longer,” stop it. Stop it right now and tell yourself that paying your dues or hanging around a theater longer doesn’t entitle you to anything. At least that’s what I’m going to try to tell myself, the next time I hear myself thinking that.