The Power of Improv

I joined an improv group recently, and it regenerated an interest in writing a blog, keeping my focus on writing and creativity. Creativity must find its outlet, and so to escape the strictly regulated confines of the test- and data-driven climate of my workplace, I dedicate this space to writing and the pursuit of creativity.

In this improv group, we practice the standard “yes, and” idea, wherein one person begins the improvisation and the next must accept the reality that’s already been constructed and add to it. If someone began a skit by putting her arm around my shoulder and saying, “Child, have you come here for confession?” even if I’d planned to play the role of family dog, I had to instantly assume the role of sinner. Okay, so I’m talking to a priest; who am I—quick—a pole dancer, a thief, an overly guilty jaywalker? And who’s this priest; is he saint, is he a monster? The next words out of my mouth will determine that, so thinking is bypassed a little; you just skip along the surface and skim off a shiny bit. It’s liberating to allow others to define the parameters and to define them yourself, knowing that everyone else must go along with whatever stream your mind has jumped into; we all jump together and move with the current.

As a new reporter in college, I would work and rework a piece, refusing what came to mind in favor of something better. My high school creative writing teacher had told us in every variation imaginable that we shouldn’t allow our internal censor to constrict our writing, that editing could come later. I agreed with her wholeheartedly… and continued to let my internal editor censor me. It wasn’t until one night, as I hunched over my computer writhing with the burden of word choices, my newspaper adviser passed me in haste, just before deadline, and blurted, “Don’t think; write.” Ah, ha! Genius.

From that moment forward I understood. It’s the idea of “yes, and,” the freeing of oneself to flow and improvise, with faith that it’s leading somewhere.