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Most people who start in improv become obsessed by this art from. We take every class we can afford. We perform in every show humanly possible. We eat like crap and get little sleep. We think the more we obsess, the more it will make us better. We tell ourselves that is what successful artists do. We think this is how we get ahead.
But in fact, being obsessed with improv is not really going to get us anywhere. Great artists are present when they create. Obsession is the enemy. There’s no way you can truly be in the moment when you’re trying to control the future.
When we’re obsessed with getting better, we’re not trusting are own talent, God, The Universe, The Muse… whatever you call it. Our obsessive thoughts jam up the spiritual signals that the Universe is trying to send us so they can't get reach us. We think working hard on our craft will bring us great comfort and security, when the opposite is true.
Every time I get involved in a project, from my first Harold team at iO back in the ’80s to my podcast Improv Nerd to the hundreds of projects I’ve done in between, I obsess about it, and I can tell you from experience that not one minute of this obsessing has helped me get ahead in my career.
Lately I have been obsessing about my current one-person show, “World’s Greatest Dad(?).”
I’ve performed it the last two Saturdays, and every single day, I am either running lines in my head or thinking of new jokes to add the show. My head is tuned in to one station 24 hours a day, seven day a week, and I can't shut it off.
Then last Saturday, several hours before my next show, I was sitting in a meeting, not paying attention. Instead of listening, my thoughts were focused on World's Greatest Dad(?), when it hit me like a two-by-four across my forehead why I obsess. I do it to kill the joy. To ruin the fun. And it comes from a deep-down insecurity that I am not enough. That I am never prepared enough. That my project must be perfect so you think I am perfect and then I am worthy of adulation.
Having that insight had a profound impact on the show that night. I was finally able to stop worrying and start trusting myself and the show more.
I actually had fun doing the show, something I had not experienced until that night.
I realize that there is a fine line between obsessing about something enough to be prepared and not obsessing so much that it consumes every waking moment of your life. I don’t think I’ve reached a perfect balance yet, but I am just grateful that I now have awareness about it, which is the beginning to getting some help.
If you want to get better at your art, you have to constantly stay open to learning.
This has not always come easily for me. After a couple of years of improv classes, I thought I had it all figured out. I was done with classes. I was more interested in the results than in getting better.
But a true artist (and I know plenty) never stops learning.
Today, as old as I am and as big as my ego can be at times, I am grateful that I do a pretty good job at staying opening to learning.
I would even say that learning brings me joy. And if you have been reading this blog for some time, you know joy does not come easy for me, either.
When it comes to learning, this weekend was a big deal for me. On Saturday I re-opened my one person show, “World's Greatest Dad(?),” and it went extremely well. The show and my performance keeps getting stronger because I willing to learn.
For this run, I am working with stand-up comedian Dave Maher. Dave is about 20 years younger than I am, but I wanted to work with him because he had put up a successful one-person show called “The Coma Show” about him waking up from a coma. I also like his style of comedy, so despite the age difference, I decided to give him a call.
We’ve been working together for several weeks, rehearsing and tightening the show. He is smart, funny and gives honest feedback. He’s given me writing notes, performance notes and helped me with the show’s structure. Working with him has been really fun, and I’m so grateful for all of the help. Now I just need to slow down a little and pause for the laughs a little more.
Then on Sunday, was the 8th anniversary show of Jimmy and Johnnie, and our special guest was TJ Jagodowski. I have always learned by watching TJ improvise, and I learn even faster when I am lucky enough to play with him.
TJ’s and John Hildreth's approach to improv is similar -- they can organically find a point of view for character in a scene in a matter of seconds and just heighten the shit out of it. This is something I struggle with since I am more reactive in my improv.
As an improviser, TJ always plays at the top of his character's intelligence, he always responds honestly, and he always brings a sense of playfulness to his improvisation. This can be ego-deflating or inspiring, or a little of both.
When I play with him, it can be easy to fall into the trap of comparing myself to him, but when I do that and tell myself I’m shit, I block myself from learning. Instead, I try to approach playing with TJ as if I’m in a grad school class for improv, and remember that playing with someone who is better than me can only make me better, too.
I am grateful today that I am able to keep learning from these artists and don't have to leave Chicago to do so.
Sunday, Nov. 3 will mark the eighth anniversary of the Jimmy and Johnnie show. For the last eight years, on the first Sunday of the month John Hildreth and I and at least one special guest have improvised together. And the experience has really been a blast.
I can't even take credit for the show’s beginning. John had been a guest on Improv Nerd and my producer at the time, Ben Capraro, suggested John and I should put a show on together. So John took the ball and ran with it. Originally Jimmy, Johnnie and Jet with Jet Eveleth. Jet moved to LA shortly after that, but we decided to continue doing the show and just find a guest to sit in with us each week.
When we started, I wasn't very good. I was rusty and tentative and was having a hard time improvising again. I was putting too much pressure on myself, thinking, “I’d better be brilliant. I have been doing this for 25 years.”
It also took me a while to figure out how John played. Though we both are from the same generation of improvisers in Chicago, we had never performed together before. He was a Cardiff Giant guy, which was great bunch of improvisers out of the University of Chicago who always were very smart players and very character-based. I was more of an iO and Jazz Freddy guy, meaning I play very grounded scenes and am more trained to find the game in the scene. Even back when we were in our 20s, those two worlds didn’t collide.
So, as John and I performed together, it slowly became fun again to improvise, though it did not come overnight.
Today, with Jimmy and Johnnie, I get to play with some of the best improvisers in the city, and John is one of the best that I’ve ever played with.
The thing that’s so incredible about John is he always starts a scene with a strong point of view. And he does so organically. He gets it from a tiny little thing that someone says in the scene in the first couple of seconds. Then he keeps heightening the shit out of it until it’s super exaggerated and funny. It’s fun to watch and even better to improvise with. I have asked John hundreds of times how he does this, and I have never gotten an answer. It’s not that he doesn't want to tell me, I think he just takes it for granted.
He is also up for trying new forms, even if they fall flat in the show. I am more cautious, but John wants to keep learning and keep pushing himself.
The other thing I admire about John is that he is very inclusive. We always have an opening act, typically former students of his or mine, and John is warm and friendly to them and it has become a tradition for us to take a selfie with our opening act and our special guest. This kind of inclusivety and camaraderie really inspires me and reminds me that we are all part of one big improv family.
Performing with John over the last eight years has really helped me become a better improviser. First of all, John's energy and most of his choices are more positive than the dark-cloud, negative ones I like to play. And I’m happy to say that his positivity has been rubbing off on me.
I am also taking more risks and making bolder choices. I am more confident and relaxed on stage and yes, I would even say enjoying it.
I think a huge part of that comes from trust, not only trusting John as a performer and a person, but also trusting his talent. Every time I play with John, I know that he will be consistently funny. He’s one of those rare people who gets a laugh from the very first the first thing that comes out of his mouth. When we first started improvising together, I think I was more competitive with him and I wanted to be as funny or funnier than he was. But when I realized that wasn't possible, I just started to relax and have more fun.
So on the eve of my next improv anniversary with John, I’d like to say thank you, John, for making me a better improviser. I’ve been honored to work with you over the past eight years, and here’s to many more.
As improvisers, we are considered "creative types." Some of us may be quirky or even moody, but regardless of our personality, we are all after the same thing: to get in the creative flow.
When we get into the flow, it’s like being a surfer riding a big wave, and it's exciting. Ideas just come to us out of nowhere, and writing a sketch, working on a screenplay or coming up with ideas for funny videos seem to take almost no effort.
But it’s not always easy to get into the creative flow. It’s a skill, which means we need to work at it.
I originally came up with a list of ideas to inspire creativity a few years ago, and here is an updated list of things that help me get my creative juices flowing.
Teaching improv is a gift I take for granted. Not only am I good at teaching and getting better, but I also really enjoy it.
But often I compare myself to my friends who I started out with who are now famous and completely dismiss my gift, which just leaves me feeling shitty about myself.
Last week, however, I had the opportunity to embrace my gift when I asked the teacher of my daughter's preschool class if I could teach the kids improv. She not only yes, but she was excited about it. I was, too, even though I had never taught improv to 2- and 3-year-olds before and had no idea what I was doing. So, I called someone who did: Kim Greene Hiller at The Laughing Academy in Glenview. Kim is an expert when it comes to teaching improv to little kids, and she gave me some exercises I could do with the kids and the confidence I could pull it off.
So I started trying the exercises at home with Betsy and my wife, Lauren. Lauren would hound me saying that I need to keep simplifying for kids. I did. We kept practicing and fine tuning them at home until the big day came.
When I say big day, it was 15 minutes of six 2- and 3-year-olds standing in a circle on piece of dirty carpet in the classroom. The teacher introduced me as Mr. Carrane and I did three or four exercises that Kim had given me.
But the best part was I had to keep modifying the games in the moment and dropping my expectations. That’s my favorite part of teaching improv -- improvising with my students. There is nothing more exhilarating for me that having to figure out what will work as I go.
With these kids, I had a game where we all make up a story together. At home, I’d practiced with Betsy and she got to make up her own words in the story, but at school, I could tell the kids were shy, so I made it easier on them by giving them a word to say ahead of time. Even then, when I got to some of them and asked for their word, they just said they would pass. But I didn’t try to force them or force the game, I just went with it and kept adapting.
The whole thing went really well. I was excited. The teacher was excited. It was hard to tell if the kids loved it, but I know I loved it, every minute of it. Partially because I had no expectations like when I teach an adult improv classes or workshops, but mostly because I got to show off for my daughter's preschool.
I got to share my gift with her class.
I went into improv to be famous, to be admired and get respect. From the moment the teacher introduced me as Mr. Carrane I got everything I wanted from improv in under 15 minutes and now I am looking forward to going back.
The goal is to be in the moment -- in life and on stage.
I don't care if you are an actor with a script, a storyteller telling us a seven minute story from your life, an improviser doing a long form show, or you’re out to dinner with your friends -- your goal should be the same: to be in moment.
That is where the joy lies in everything we do. Attaining that feeling of presence is fleeting, but necessary.
Today, more than ever, it's harder and harder to be in the moment because we have far more distractions. If we are not texting on our cell phone, we are posting on Facebook or binge watching Netflix.
And because it’s become trickier to be in the moment in our lives, it can affect our what we do on stage.
Being in the moment is the ultimate form of listening. It’s about giving 100% attention to the task in front of us.
It means when you are performing you are not thinking about what you are having for dinner or who is in the audience. You are not judging yourself or your performance. You are in the flow. It is as if you have stopped “trying” and have instead given yourself over to a force bigger than yourself. You have completely lost yourself in what you are doing. That is what is meant by being present.
I am not saying this is easy. Not at all. But when we can truly be in the moment on stage, that is where the magic lies for us as well as the audience. They, too, want to lose themselves in your performance and forget about the stress and anxiety of their lives.
Here are a few things you can do to practice being in the moment, so you are better able to do it on stage:
Got any other ideas of how to be present? Let me know in the comments below.
Great improvisers are great listeners. Great actors are great listeners. Listening is the foundation of the performing arts.
We cannot be in moment if we are not listening. It is impossible.
We cannot react to our fellow actor if we are not listening. It won't happen.
Why?
Because if we aren’t listening, we aren’t open to what we are getting from our scene partner, and that means we have cut ourselves off from any sort of spontaneity.
Listening is a skill. It can be learned. It takes discipline and courage.
Our ego wants us to talk and fill in the silences with blah blah blah blah blah. It will have us talk over other people and dominate with our words.
But to be good actors and improvisers, we need to learn to shut the fuck up if we are to be affected on stage.
I have never done a show and afterwards said, “I think I listened as much as possible.” No, I always find places in my performances where I could have slowed down and taken in my scene partners and the audience more.
When I look back at the good shows, I realize they were good because I was listening my ass off. I was not ahead of myself, but instead I was reacting to the last thing my partner was saying to me.
This is a skill I constantly need to work on. Here are three things you can do in your everyday life that can develop your listening skills to make you a better performer.
If you have any other good listening exercises, please feel free to share them in the comments section since I am always looking for new ways to improve these skills.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from Rob Snow, the Executive Director of Stand Up For Downs, a non-profit organization based in Cleveland, OH, that is dedicated to helping people with Down syndrome.
Rob is a native Ohioan who studied at Second City, iO and The Annoyance in Chicago in the ‘90s before turning to Ohio where he got a “real job, real wife, and started a real family.” After having his second son, Henry, who was born with Down syndrome, in 2009, Rob became passionate about helping people with special needs live full and fulfilling lives.
Last year, Stand Up For Downs began offering monthly improv classes to anyone with Down syndrome over the age of 15, and now they also have a nine-person improv group called the Improvaneers that rehearses once a week and performs shows for their parents after each nine-week session.
Now, Stand Up For Downs is planning on offering training to other instructors on how to teach improv to people with Down syndrome and other special needs, so these kinds of improv classes can be offered nationwide.
I was so impressed with this initiative that I asked Rob to tell me a little bit more about his program and what his hopes are for it. Here’s what he had to say:
I knew from studying improvisation at Second City, iO, and The Annoyance Theatre in the late 90s in Chicago that improvisation teaches so many valuable skills, like problem-solving, quick-thinking, teamwork, listening, building self-confidence, and communication skills like voice projection and eye contact. If these skills could be taught to those with Down syndrome, their workplace and social opportunities could expand greatly.
So we began teaching monthly classes to anyone with Down syndrome in the Cleveland area over the age of 15. We saw such incremental results after only a few classes, so I thought, “What if we auditioned an advanced group and taught them weekly? What type of improvements would we see then?” So The Improvaneers were born in April 2018 after auditioning more than 25 individuals and casting nine to be in the world’s first all-Down syndrome improvisation troupe.
Ultimately, the hope is that as many individuals with special needs can benefit from the skills taught through improvisation and we can blow open the doors on social and workplace opportunities. This will also begin to change perceptions of those with special needs in a major way around the world so that they can get the respect they deserve.
Emotion is something to be very careful with. They can wear their heart on their sleeves in more prominent ways then most typical performers. Improvising a sad scene can trigger emotion very easily. They also feed off one another, so if one person is upset the other has sympathy pains for them and often then goes into their own sadness. It can be a domino effect.
We were very careful to note those differences and they will play a prominent role in the manual on this program so those instructors we certify to teach a program have a playbook to handle these unique aspects.
I am crispy. I am burnt out. I am tired.
I have had a very creatively busy summer, and I am grateful.
I put “World's Greatest Dad(?)” up and have taught my ass off and I have enjoyed it. I actually don’t think I’ve ever worked as hard as I have done lately, and for someone who can be a bit work-anorexic, I’ve realized that there is a part of me that actually enjoys working that much.
But, as you know, us creative types can only run so long on fumes until the light goes on in the car that says the tank is empty and you are out of gas.
I wish I felt inspired to write about improv, or my life, or anything that you might find mildly helpful. I don't have that for you.
All I know is I wanted to feel connected to you. And the thought of re-running an old blog just didn’t feel right. I’ve done that the last couple weeks and I wanted to write something.
I know this feeling will be temporary if I take care of myself and take a short little breaks to recharge the batteries. To fill the well up again.
This is what I am trying to do right now. But apparently I am not succeeding because I am still typing on my lap top.
So, if you have any suggestions on what kinds of things you can do to feel inspired again when you feel creatively burnt out, I could really use that now.
Improv is considered a young person’s game. Improv classes at iO and Second City are often overrun with 20-somethings just starting out in life trying to make it big in comedy someday. But what if you are over 35 and you’ve just gotten into improv? You know you are never going to audition for SNL or write for Key and Peele – it’s just not going to happen. So, often, you are filled with self-doubt and wonder why you’re wasting your time doing this at all.
If this is you, I want you to you know that you are no different than the 20-something person who is fresh out of college with stars in their eyes. Don't kid yourself -- they have the same self-doubts as you do, they difference is they can justify theirs. Youth will do that.
You, on the other hand, have a harder time doing so. You are an adult, and you tell yourself that adults are not supposed to be silly. They’re not supposed to play. Your childhood was over a long time ago. This makes it hard for you to sneak out of work early or leave the kids with a babysitter for a couple of hours so you can play. You feel guilty because you are “wasting time” with no chance of a big pay-off.
And the more fun you have, the more you start asking yourself: "Why am I doing this? Why am I spending all this time and money? Where is this going to lead me? Am I too old to get good at this?"
If these thoughts have been plaguing you, know this: These are just negative voices in your head that are trying to prevent you from having any joy. The truth is, you are having more fun than you would ever admit. YOU ARE HAVING FUN. That’s what matters. And that is worth something.
Sure, you may never become famous or be on a TV show, but who cares? You are doing what most adults only wished they could do, and that is not act like an adult for a couple of hours a week.
No, you are not going to be on SNL or write for late night talk show. Yes, that is the reality, but who gives a shit? Let those kids in the skinny jeans and untucked flannel shirts worry about being famous. That is not how you are going to measure your success. If you do, you will lose.
If you are comparing yourself to the younger people in your improv class, it will only be a matter of time before you’re going to want to quit. You’re going to start coming up with excuses like "I need to focus on my job,” or “My partner does it like it,” or my all-time favorite, “I can’t afford it." (This is the lamest because it's never about the money.)
No, these excuses won't work with me. You can only quit if you are truly not having any fun doing it anymore. So don't you dare try to twist my words or find a loop hole on this. I won't let you get away with it.
If you are an older improviser, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to redefine what success in improv means to you, right now, while I am talking to you in this blog. Is it completing a program, starting your own group, getting a commercial or a part in a play? Decide what it is for YOU.