There's an expression that goes, “Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?”

This applies to improv.

I have seen my students time and time again wanting to "do it right" and follow the rules, rather than trusting their instincts and having fun. They would rather be right than happy.

There are a lot of reasons for this, and they all boil down to fear.

The longer I teach, the more I believe that the most important thing in improv is being in the moment.

Spolin said it first: “Improvisation is transformation,” which means scenes will naturally evolve into something else and go to unexpected places. But transformation can only happen when you are truly in the moment.

And in improv, the best way to be in the moment is to trust your instincts.

Easier said than done when that nasty fear is involved.

Sometimes after my students do a long form in a class or workshop, a student will say, "I wanted to do a walk-on, but I was not sure if we could do walk-ons."

I get it. My whole life I was always looking for approval or permission. I didn’t want to make a mistake and look like a fool and be called out in front of the class.

When that’s how you have been living your whole life, it's hard to let it go in a silly improv class.

Today, my philosophy about improv has changed. When we start doing a specific game, exercise, scene, or type of long form, the instructions are just a starting off point. The goal of the game or scene is for it to transform. I’d rather see the students trust their instincts over my instructions.

Wait, Jimmy, if people don't listen to you, won't it be chaos and nobody will learn anything? Thanks for bringing that up. For the most part, people follow instructions and if they do take risks, they’re not going to even come close to sabotaging what the class is doing, so the benefits of a game transforming outweigh the negatives for the students.

I have done Zip Zap Zup where it transforms to saying people's names or saying sounds or even students passing objects. If you resist the transformation, you miss out of the fun.

Yes, at times I may give specific instructions in game or a long form. For example, let's say I have seen too many walk-ons in class. I may give a direction that there should be no walk-ons in the next long form. And guess what? Students will trust their instincts over my instruction and I may get three or four walk-ons, which is far less than the 12 that they did in the previous exercise.

Even though they didn’t follow my instructions exactly, we have succeeded as a group because my point with saying no walks on was to limit the number because they were getting in the way of our scene work, but we also had people trust their instincts and take a risk over an imposed rule.

So the next time you are in that fear place on stage or in class or in rehearsal, ask yourself would I rather do it “right” or would I rather have fun?

Want to try a new approach to your improv? Sign up now for Jimmy's Level 1 improv classes, either in-person in Chicago or online, starting the week of Sept. 12!

If you've been improvising for a while, at some point one of your teachers/coaches will say you need to take an acting class. This may be confusing.

If you are like me, you might think something like, “I am improviser, not an actor.”

And then a huge acting opportunity will come along, like a play, commercial or even a TV show, and you will blow it. Not because you are not talented, but because you don’t have acting training.

If you are still not sure why taking an acting class might be worthwhile, here are three reasons why improvisers should take an acting class.

  1. It helps you get good with a script
    Guess what improvisers? If you want to do commercials, TV and films — the things that actually pay you money and may bring some exposure to your career — then you are going to have to audition to get them. Which means you are going to have to be good with a script. This translates to knowing how to ACT!

    Improvisers have had the reputation for years that when they get in a casting session and are asked to read off the script they usually suck. The reason they do is they usually have no formal ACTING experience or training. Remember, the last time I checked, there was no one getting rich off just doing improv.

  2. It helps you develop your serious side
    Improvisers, for the most part, want to be liked and make people laugh. They are terrified to go to the places where actors love to go to naturally. Acting classes are a great place to get improvisers out of their comfort zone and rewire their brains to give them the confidence to go dramatic and let go of needing to get a laugh. Not only is this going to make them a much better improviser, it’s also going to give them so much more range as an actor. In my career, 80 percent of my TV and film credits have come from dramas, not comedies.
  3. You are both an actor and an improviser
    Yes, you call yourself an improviser, but you are also an actor. An actor should know the basic terminology of acting and know that your work ethic as an improviser is not going to cut it in theater, movies and television. Acting takes discipline. Actors prepare their asses off. Even if you are doing a scene in class, you will have to memorize the script, emotionally prepare for the scene and meet with your partner outside of class to rehearse. This takes hours and hours of work and commitment. Since improvisers can be extremely lazy and a little flaky, taking an acting class can be a rude, but necessary awakening if they want more from their career and themselves.

If you are looking for an improviser-friendly acting class, I highly recommend Green Shirt Studio in Chicago. Jack Schultz is Green Shirt’s Artistic Director, and he is an incredibly respected and supportive teacher, especially with improvisers. Green Shirt classes start Aug. 20, 2023. Plus, you can try one of his classes in the Chicago Triple Threat Workshop, running from Aug. 26 through Sept. 16. For more information go to https://www.greenshirtstudio.com/classes/.

Keli Semelsberger has been teaching, directing and performing improv for more than 26 years. She founded the award-winning Charlotte Comedy Theater and she is the author of her new book, Improv Shaman: The Transformative Journey of Divine Play. We talked to her about being enough, taking care of yourself and how to be more vulnerable.

This Sunday is Father’s Day and it’s making me think a lot about my dad, who died a little over six years ago, a few months before my daughter, Betsy, was born.

In one of the last conversations I had with him, I read him a list of 11 things he gave me as father. My dad didn’t take it well. I think getting compliments made him uncomfortable.

One of things I thanked him for was teaching me good manners. In fact, people still tell me that I have good manners to this day, and that’s all thanks to my Dad.

The reason he had such a hard time taking in the compliments I gave him was he couldn’t forgive himself for getting into some legal trouble around the year 2000 that sent him to prison.

His guilt and shame about that overshadowed some of the good things he did as a father.

Last week was Betsy’s last day of Kindergarten. They had a ceremony for the parents at her school where the kids sang a song, we watched a class video and each kid got an award.

Betsy received the "Ms. Manners" award "for always being respectful and courteous to everybody," which immediately made me think about my dad. I was proud of her, and I was proud of myself, too, for being able to pass down to my daughter one of the 11 gifts that my dad gave to me.

Had my dad been alive, he would probably would have had a hard time taking any credit for it, though. He probably would have said, "I had nothing to do with it. It was all your mother."

But even though he wouldn’t have been able to acknowledge it, I know it was him. I’m giving him most of the credit.

I read a book recently where someone said that their relationship with their father improved after he died. That was true was for me.

My dad and I had a complicated relationship. I believe most people have complicated relationships with their parents. But it’s often a hard thing for people to get in touch with because they feel like if they say something like that, it means they don’t love them.

I love my dad more today than I ever have, and that doesn’t change the fact he and I had a complicated relationship. I think I’ve learned more from my dad now that he is gone than when he was still here. Being a father helps, too.

My Dad and I shared one tragic flaw — we believed that to be loved, you had to accomplish something. But I’ve learned that being loved or admired for your accomplishments isn’t real love. Real love was right in front of him all the time, in his five kids, but he couldn’t really see it.

I’ve never felt more love than from my child. And in my dad’s case, times that by five.

I think my dad finally understood this on the last day I saw him, which was also his last day on earth. He was on morphine. He could not speak. I said I loved him, and he waived backed. And in the that tiny gesture I felt he loved me too.

Want to study with Jimmy this summer? There's still a few spots open in this Saturday's Long Form Tune-Up or the Summer Intensive Aug. 6-7. Sign up today!

Kindergarten ended this week for Betsy. She made it through, and more importantly, I did, too.

Watching your kid grow up is emotional. One day she has a new BFF, the next she doesn't. It's like watching the stock market.

When she was a baby all my friends that were parents said, "Enjoy this time. It will go fast." At the beginning it did not go fast enough. I could hardly wait until she walked, talked and could read at a sixth-grade level.

Now, at 5-and-3/4 years old, my friends who were parents were right.

I can't believe Kindergarten is over. I will miss Betsy telling us about "free play" and who got into fights. I will miss packing lunches and rushing out the door in the morning to walk her to school. Yes, I’ll have to do it all over again starting in the fall when she’s in first grade, but it will never be Kindergarten again. Next year, she’ll be just a little bit older.

For the last nine-and-a-half months we’ve had the same morning routine. I would walk her across the street and take her to the back door of the school, where I would say "Goodbye! Have a nice day at school!" And if I was really brave I would say, "I love you Elizabeth." (She is Betsy at home, and Elizabeth at school, but signs her name Liz because it takes less time. She's learning time management.)

Then the morning of the last full day of Kindergarten, something changed. We got about 20 feet away from the back door, and a group of older kids were standing in front. As we got closer, she whispered to me, "Dad, you can go."

What?

"Dad, you can go."

She felt self-conscious that I was standing with her and wanted her independence. I was caught by surprise. I know that my friends who are parents would say, "That’s a sign you are doing a good job as a parent."

I said, "Bye, Betsy," and watched her head past the older kids into the school.

If this was hard, I can't imagine what it’s going to be like when I have to drop her off at college for the first time.

I walked away feeling really sad. But as Betsy said to me the other day, "Dad, there is such a thing as happy tears." I had never thought about it that way. Unfortunately, I almost never let myself cry, but if I could, I know that right now I would be crying happy tears.

Want to study with Jimmy Carrane? There's still time to sign up for his in-person Long Form Scene Tune-Up on June 18 or the Art of Slow Comedy Summer Intensive Aug. 6-7!

Rich Sohn is a master teacher and improviser at The Pack Theater in Los Angeles. He's worked at The Annoyance Theater, iO-Chicago and Second City. We talked to him about how he found his voice as a teacher and improviser at The Annoyance, how the Annoyance style brings such freedom on stage, and what he learned from working with Del and Mick in Chicago in the '90s.

Do your art for the joy of it. Don't do it unless it brings you happiness.

It's not about the fame and fortune. Those will come or they will not.

Make up your own definition of what "making it" means and fuck the rest.

Do what makes your heart sing or skip a beat, just don't have a heart attack.

I am out of cliches, but my point is we need you and your art.

It doesn’t matter what kind of art you do as long as we can see it and you are not hiding in your bed. That makes you a "hermartist" — someone who hides and withholds his gifts from the world. Hermartists don't know better; they hide because they are scared. If that is you, know it's ok, totally ok. We can wait for you to come out and play when you are ready.

Creativity needs light, like plants need water and humans need oxygen and readers of this blog need another metaphor.

Actors and improvisers are sensitive creatures, which makes us both good at what we do and often very affected by what is going on in the world around us. And when the world gets crazy, such as with the news about these recent shootings, it can be tempting to want to give up on acting and improv altogether and think that making theater or comedy in times like these is useless.

But that isn’t true. Our art can help us feel more connected to others, and it can help others heal as well.

This past week, after the news about the shootings at an elementary school in Uvalde, TX, I felt very hopeless. But I reached out to my like-minded friends on Facebook who reminded me that we do improv shows for all sort of reasons: community, connection and compassion. They were right.

If ever there was a time that we needed all that stuff, it is right now.

That and healing. We need healing.

People say "Laughter is the language of the Gods," and we speak that language. It doesn’t matter if you are making people laugh at your boring-ass day job or on stage in front of 100 people. The Universe is not judging how many people you make laugh. All that matters is that you shared your gift of comedy with someone else, end of conversation.

Yes, keep doing whatever brings you joy, even in dark times.

Watch Kindergarteners in a dance recital. They are not doing it for fame or fortune. They are simply doing it for the joy of it. Sadly, as they get older, they will outgrow this, and they will start to do art only when they think it is “worthwhile,” but for this brief moment, they know that performing just for fun, even if they aren’t that good at it, is the point.

My hope, for all of us, me included, is that we can bring more of that into our lives and if we do, we can affect others. Sometimes my best work goes unnoticed, like when I’m joking around with the teller at the bank or speaking gibberish with my 5-and-a-half year-old daughter while she gets ready for school.

You are more prepared than you think you are to perform. You always have been. So just trust yourself and get out there. The world needs you.

Want to get back into the swing of improv? Don't miss Jimmy's Long Form Tune-Up on June 18 IN-PERSON! Sign up today!

Patti Stiles is a world-renowned teacher and improviser who lives in Melbourne, Australia. She is the author of Improvise Freely: Throw away the rule book and unleash your creativity. We talk to her about why she doesn't like rules in improv, how we can shift from rules to tools, how to enjoy making mistakes more.

I think sometimes improvisers get hell bent at working at certain theaters or making a house team, and then they stay too long at places out of frustration or insecurity.

I think moving on is even harder if you work with improv gurus, whom you make your higher power because you think they have all the answers. I know because I have done this too many times to count.

Often when we stay somewhere too long, we’re not only doing because we want to achieve a goal or get validation. Sometimes we stay too long because we fear that if we leave, we’ll miss out on a great opportunity that is just around the corner or that if we leave our improv and our life will fall apart.

In some cases, if we have been at an improv institution for a little while and still haven’t reached the “top,” it may be best to stay a little longer. But in other instances, the best way to apply what you have learned from that teacher, school or theater is to leave.

That was my experience working with Del Close back in ’80s. I learned a lot from him, especially about doing honest monologues as opening for the Harold. In fact, I enjoyed that more than improvising scenes.

Del was a guru and I willingly drank the Kool-Aid and believed his type of improv was the only true form of improv. Eventually, I left and found The Annoyance Theater, which was quite a different style than Del was teaching, even though a fair amount of the improvisers there had studied with him.

Though I had done pretty well at iO and had made a house team there, at The Annoyance I reached a new level of creative and critical success by doing my one-person show, “I’m 27, I Still Live at Home and Sell Office Supplies,” that I would never have achieved had I stayed at the iO doing Harolds.

The show was influenced by Del and his work, and my director Gary Rudoren, who also had been a student of his, played a big part in that as well.

And then eventually I left the Annoyance Theater and years later started teaching at Second City before I left the Training Center. But that transition, too, helped me because I took what I had learned there and actually got better as a teacher, and in some cases, as a person. Once I stopped teaching in Second City’s institutional system, I didn't have to hide behind their name and reputation, which did not work well with my people-pleasing ways, and find my own path as a teacher.

I say this because recently, after 17 years, I left group therapy. Being in group was certainly hugely influential in my life, but after that much time, I felt I had learned everything I was going to learn there, and if I stayed, I knew I would stop growing.

And while I'm happy that I made the decision to leave, doing so has brought up those same feelings I had each time I left or was fired from a theater. But when I look back at each of these transitions, I realize that didn’t fall apart when I left. I actually got stronger, wiser and better looking. We all have to move on sometimes or we stagnate. And sometimes it's our decision to move on and sometimes it's not, but either way, every new transition means we are moving forward.

Patrick McCarthy is an actor, improviser and one of New York's most respected improv teachers. He teaches and performs at The PIT in New York. We talked to him about what truth in comedy means to him, why it's important to take an acting class, and his journey from addiction to sobriety.