im·pro·vise – verb \ˈim-prə-ˌvīz also ˌim-prə-ˈ\
: to speak or perform without preparation
: to make or create (something) by using whatever is available
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Recently, when I read Katherine Willis Pershey’s blog post on improvisational comedy, I was struck by how much my parenting would benefit by conforming to the rules of the form.
For instance, comedienne Tina Fey wrote about four rules of improvisation in her book BossyPants. Briefly, those rules are: 1.) Agree, 2.) Say “yes, and . . .”, 3.) Make statements (don’t ask questions), and 4.) There are no mistakes, only opportunities. Of course, the way Tina Fey describes them, the rules themselves sound a bit like a night of improv. And little did I know when I first read Katherine’s blog post, everyone thinks parenting (and business and relationships and church and families and teachers) could benefit from the rules of improv. That’s how cool Tina Fey is . . . and how cool I am not, since the book came out three years ago, and I still haven’t read it.
But coincidentally, just a couple of weeks after reading about improv and trying to apply the rules to parenting, I actually had a chance to attend an improv comedy night. A group of five comedians and one musician performed an hour of off-the-cuff hilariousness at the end of a three-day business conference. My brother had invited me to join him.
As I spewed out giant belly laughs in a room full of strangers, I remained composed enough to observe Tina’s four rules in action. True to form, each time a new set started, one of the comedians would step out of character, describe the scene, and “action!” In that split second, all the actors had to agree with the scenario, add their own character’s story, contribute rather than clarify, and just go with it when someone added an illogical line or started cracking themselves up.
Watching the actors perform, I realized that there are probably a lot of other rules to improv, which is ironic, since it’s supposed to be, well, improv. With the majority of my day spent in highly scripted, online information sharing (I’m not sure “communication” even applies), however, it’s nice to know that I can learn how to wing it a little more effectively in my in-person interactions, particularly with my family.
For instance, occasionally, the “yes, and . . .” rule is suspended. In a method called, “try-again,” an out-of-character performer occasionally breaks into an improv scene and says “try again.” The actor speaking has to come up with another option rather than the one response they blurted out. Also, no one person says too much at once. In an improv scene, the humor emerges from the interaction, not from a lecture. Finally, emotion is good only when it is controlled. I love it when Jimmy Fallon or Jerry Seinfeld crack a smile or even a giggle during their stand up acts. But in improv, the scene lives or dies by responding to the emotion expressed. Unintentional emotion can crack the veneer.
I’d love to give you examples of the ways I have mastered parenting through the rules of improv. But at this point, there aren’t many. What I can tell you is we’re all still laughing here. And if we get really good, we may take this show on the road.
Have you ever done improv comedy? What rules would you add?
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WORD COUNT: 532
Photo above by thisisbossi, via Flickr, used with permission under the Creative Commons License. Definitions of my word of the week are from Merriam-Webster Dictionary Online.
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What a great idea – using the principles of improv in everyday life and relationships. Love Laura’s description of musical improv, too. Let me know if you ever take that class – it sounds like fun. Scary, but fun!
Diana – I think it would be scary, too. I don’t know of any classes near me, but I’m sure they exist. I’ll report back if I find and take one!
Two words: Carol Burnett
And Tim Conway, Harvey Korman, Vicki Lawrence …
I love all of those people. You’re right, Sandy. They were the best at improv. No doubt about it.
I’m thinking of improv in music, where there are also rules, which I might also call limitations, or context. The song or tune has a tempo, a key, a chord progression, a certain amount of time available to improvise (for example, the length of one verse, or verse plus chorus, if it’s a song; twelve bars, or two or three sets of twelve bars, if it’s the blues). As your first definition suggests, it’s not so much the lack of rules but the spontaneity, the unrehearsedness, that makes it improv.
In the band I used to be in, we performed a song called “Ride On” in which at some point I’d take a verse on my flute, and at some point Judy would take a verse on her fiddle, and near the end we’d take a verse together. We did rehearse this, but it was also pretty freeform, and different every time. And it worked every time. I think there was something about the structure of the song that lent itself well to our instrumental riffs, songs, laments — just enough structure and limitation that we could find great variety within it. And there was something about our careful listening to each other, our attunedness to each other, that allowed us to pull off simultaneously playing lines we’d never played quite that way before, adapting our volume, even — one quieter, holding back, accompanying when the other was singing forth, and vice versa; and matching our diminishing volumes at the end, like two people bringing the same plane in for a landing.
The thing about improv, in those troupes, or your family or Ann’s family or my family, or a musical group, or that TV great show that I also used to watch (both U.S. and British versions), is that it is not a solo act. It hangs, or falls, on the mutual work of the … tribe.
Laura – Thanks for adding this. I’ve enjoyed some jazz improv a few times and love the interplay between musicians. You’re right: it’s essential. And I love how you weaved in your own word of the week. I do find that the more I ask people about their words each week, I do tend to find a lot of overlap. Thanks for joining me here!
How fun! I used to love watching “Whose Line Is It Anyway.” They cracked themselves up so much all the time, they did not hold the audience in the scene in a sense of sustained sense of reality, but it sure was fun! I can’t do improv in an acting sense. Like you said in your post, though, we improv ALL THE TIME at home. And we do crack each other up. Sometimes someone will take on a voice or persona and we’ll go with it. At times, someone won’t realize what’s going on and interrupt with “What? What are you talking about?” Then all the momentum screeches to a halt. Everyone has to be in on it for the improv to work.
Ann – Great point about drawing everyone in. I have a brand new fascination with this form. In fact, I’m hoping that I can find an improv class to take sometime. I think it would help me better explore the connections with my life. And I agree, even when the comedians crack up at themselves, it can be lots of fun. Our local high school has an improv club, and they perform between musical groups at the Spring and Winter School Concerts. What a great opportunity for them.