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(Who's the funniest one in the pic above? Hint: I'm the one with the sunglasses).
When I started out in improv my goal was to be the funniest one on stage. In retrospect, that wasn’t a very noble one goal. At the time, it seemed important to me for many reasons — primarily, if I stood out from the rest of the group it would prove to myself that I was the star I believed I was destined to be and that I had made the right choice. Every class, every rehearsal, every show was a test to see if I was the funniest one, and if I was not, I felt I had failed. I was devastated. I was depressed.
After having been around the improv scene in Chicago for more than 30 years, I have seen just as many people who are the so called "stand outs" or the funniest ones in their shows go on to have successful TV and film careers as people who weren't.
I have actually been in shows where I have been the "stand out," the funniest one, and it really has not made a difference in my career.
So why was it so necessary for me to try to be the stand out? I am fascinated by this, maybe even obsessed with it, and I’ve come up with a theory based on my own life and wanted to share it with you to see if maybe you had a similar experience.
I grew up in dysfunctional family where I was pretty much neglected growing up. I fought with my other brothers and sisters for my parents’ attention. I was not good at sports, or good looking, or good at school, so I had to carve out a niche among my siblings. So I developed a wicked sense of humor. I was the fat funny one. I had a quick wit and more importantly, I knew how to make my parents laugh. Especially my Dad. No one in my family could challenge me for the title of the funniest one the same way I could not challenge my brothers at being good at sports.
Then I found improv, and I was around people who came from similar families as I did, except they had more confidence and they were funnier than I was. I was jealous and threatened that I would be replaced as the funniest one.
Because being funniest meant that I was loved. It was my whole identity. It was my role in my family and losing it felt like I was being abandoned. As a fat, insecure teenager, entertaining my family and friends was important, because being funny was really the only thing that I got my self-worth from, so I tried to protect it at all costs. Yes, I was a sad clown, as sad as it gets, but that’s who I was for the first 20 years that I was in improv.
Coming to this conclusion — as well as group therapy twice a week, a loving wife, supportive friends and a little spirituality — has helped me realize that I don’t have to be the funniest one to be loved. Having a big, full life outside of improv has made it feel not as important to be the funniest one. And recently, having a daughter has been an even bigger help.
It’s not completely gone, but it doesn’t take over my life as it once did, which makes performing and teaching that much more enjoyable.
If you’ve suffered from the same crazy thinking that I have, I’d love to hear what things you did to overcome it.
In improv, we all want to get noticed and be liked by everyone at the same time. The problem is, it’s hard for those things to coexist. To get noticed, you are going to have to have a strong point of view, and that will piss some people off. And not only is that okay, if you start pissing people off, it just affirms that you have found your point of view.
Take Stephen Colbert. Regardless of whether you agree with his politics or not, we can all agree he has developed a strong point of view. And it did not come overnight either.
If you watched him during his first few months at the Late Show, you could see him trying to find his footing as he transitioned from the bombastic character of Stephen Colbert from The Colbert Report to being Stephen Colbert, host of CBS's Late Show. Could he be as political as he was on his show on Comedy Central? What would be the new point of view of the host?
At first, Colbert was trying really hard to appeal to what he thought a mainstream audience would want. He didn’t know if it was ok to be political, because that might offend some viewers, so we just got a watered down version of the authentic Colbert.
The show struggled a bit at the beginning to find its voice, but when it did, it never apologized for it. It never looked back. Colbert has hit his groove. Now, Colbert is openly criticizing Trump. He’s become the jester who is not afraid to take on the king, and he looks like he’s having a lot of fun doing it, too.
As soon as Colbert wasn’t afraid to piss people off, he found his voice, and surprise, people have connected with him more. Ratings have soared.
Colbert has certainly had to weather more criticism though, even from President Trump himself, who called Colbert a "no talent guy" and "filthy." On the one hand, getting criticized is hard, but on the other hand, it’s pretty amazing that the president of the United States is talking about you.
I get that getting criticism is hard. But the bigger you get and the stronger your point of view is, people will start taking shots. It’s just human nature. Just know that if you’re starting to receive criticism, it’s actually a good thing. It means your comedic voice is getting stronger and people are starting to notice.
When I was little kid, the first thing I ever wanted to be was a stand-up comedian. I loved the idea of standing up in front of a crowd and making them laugh. Then when I was 18 years old, I took my first improv class, and I have been side tracked from my original vision for the last 35 five years.
Improv has been very good to me; I have had a fair amount of success as both an improv teacher and performer. But creatively, nothing has been more fulfilling than when I have gotten back to my original vision of writing and performing my own material.
When I did my first solo show, “I am 27, I Still Live At Home and Sell Office Supplies," all the stars seemed to line up to make the show a success. I worked with the right director, Gary Rudoren; I was at the right theater, The Annoyance; and it was the right topic — kids moving back home with their parents. It ran for a year and half, and I will always look at this as the high point in my career.
My one-man show was really my love of stand-up combined with what I had learned from Del Close: that truth is funny. In those days we would do honest monologues taken from our lives as the "opening" for Harold shows. The monologues were always my favorite part of improvising, even more than the scene work, and they fostered my obsession with truth in comedy. Del believed you could just get up stage and tell a story without having to elaborate on it and you could get a laugh. He was right 80 percent of the time. I became fascinated with how you could be revealing and funny at the same time. I still am.
So far, I’ve done a total of four one-man shows, and I’ve learned that a good show is a result of a good process. With “I’m 27,” I had a great process and a great show. Gary had me improvise stories I had been telling for years. We never wrote anything down. Instead, I just had the script in my head, and once the show was up, we continued to work on it, making it tighter and tighter. When we finally closed the show, it wasn’t the same show we had opened with. It was tighter, and I was a better performer.
And now, more than 15 years after my last one-man show, “Living in a Dwarf’s House,” I’m finally back to writing another one. I’m trying to combine stories about having Betsy, my Dad dying and being on a plane where they thought I was terrorist. And it's the most fun I’ve had in a really long time.
Though I’m writing things down this time, I’m still enjoying the process. I am writing with the help of Lauren and phone calls with Gary, and I feel my confidence coming back to me. I’m getting to do what I loved so much about the first one: express myself in an honest and revealing way. It’s nice to get back there.
Friday is my birthday. I will be 53 years old. In improv, that makes me ancient. Each year I have the same birthday ritual: I go into a major depression. It usually stems from thinking about how I wish I was more successful, more famous, and have more money — like my friends that I started out with back in the ’90s do. It then ends up with me getting pissed off at God, yelling at him with a fist clenched to the sky saying, "Why haven’t I made it yet?" This is annual ritual is designed to make me feel crappy about myself, and so far it has never let me down.
But this year is different.
Yes, I still want all those things my friends have, but the desire isn’t as burning. I don't feel as desperate. I think the one thing the podcast has taught me is that no amount of success will take away my low self-esteem, self-loathing and self-hatred. That is separate work from my art.
There’s no question that improv comedy has given me a way to express myself, but somewhere along the line I misused it as a way to validate myself. That is always dangerous, because you cannot fix your insides with something outside of yourself. Success, fame and money can’t fill that gaping whole inside me; it’s not possible.
Lately I feel more gratitude for the things I do have. Especially my family — my wife, Lauren; my daughter, Betsy; and my cat, Coco — and all the people around us who have given us so much love and support.
If you’ve been reading this blog on a somewhat regular basis, you have noticed that my own personal forecast has gone from cloudy with a chance of thunder to partly sunny. I owe that to my little joy machine, my daughter Betsy Jane. People say kids will change you, and after ten months, I am realizing they are right, and I am looking forward to even more changes in myself. Being a parent is the hardest, most demanding, most rewarding thing I have ever done. I still question our choice of having a kid, now more than ever since she has started to crawl and it’s hard to keep up with her at 53.
When I look back at my tiny little career, the things that I am the proudest of are the things I either created or were a part of that were built from scratch. I don't why, but they have always been the most fulfilling and rewarding. I think about my first one man show, "I'm 27, I Still Live at Home and Sell Office Supplies," or being part of Jazz Freddy, or starting the podcast Improv Nerd. All things created out of thin air, and now Betsy is on the list. She is my best creation yet.
So, happy birthday to Betsy’s father. She is the greatest gift he could have ever gotten.
Alright, you have put together a great improv show and you are really excited about it. Now the important part: How do you get people to come and see it?
If you’re like most improvisers, you will rely on people magically just showing up. Which in most cases doesn’t work. Some people are fortunate enough to be part of a theater that seems to almost automatically get packed houses, but for most of us, we need to put in some good old-fashioned publication relations and marketing to get noticed.
Learning how to market your own shows can seem overwhelming at first, but the steps you have to take to get the word out aren’t rocket science. In fact, they’re pretty simple, once you know what to do.
So here are some easy tips on how to market your improv show.
In her wonderful book, Presence, author Amy Cuddy asks actor Julianne Moore what presence is for an actor. Moore answers: "The key to presence -- and this is one thing they tell you in school -- is relaxation."
When I first starting out taking improv classes, I cannot tell you how frustrated I was that I could be loose and funny when I was hanging out with my friends, but as soon as I got into class or on stage I would become scared and stiff. It took me awhile to figure out what was wrong. The reason was simple: In social situations with my friends I was relaxed. I wasn’t tense or putting pressure on myself. I could just be myself.
Among my friends, I had a built-in trust and support that didn’t translate to the group of strangers in my improv classes. It took me years to act as comfortable on stage as I was in my real life. Today, the more relaxed I can be for a show, for an interview for the podcast, or for an audition, the better I seem to do. When I'm relaxed, I'm able to have more fun, which always leads to a better outcome.
Unfortunately, being relaxed isn’t something most improvisers even consider. They are too busy running around from their day job to a show, to a rehearsal, to class and back to another show. They tell themselves, “I am so busy that I don't have time to relax.” Then they wonder why they are not farther along in their careers.
Being relaxed is not just a state of mind -- it takes work to be relaxed. You cannot show up two minutes before your group is going to go on stage and expect to be relaxed. It doesn’t work that way. We are not machines; we are artists with very sensitive wiring.
To help you be as relaxed as possible for your shows, classes, rehearsals and auditions, I’ve come up with a few tips I’d like to share with you:
If you have any other suggestions, please feel free to add to the list by adding to the comments below!
If you've been in an improv group for a while, you’ve most likely hit a consistency level with your shows. This is a good thing. But it can also be a trap.
When some groups get to the point where they’re consistently doing good shows, they’re usually happy with this and seem to go on auto pilot. The shows slowly became rote because the players would rather do what they know will get a laugh than challenge themselves.
They have forgotten what attracted them to improv in the first place: “the rush.” The rush of taking risks in front of complete strangers, the thrill of knowing that it could succeed or fail miserably at any moment. If you haven’t felt that feeling in a while, it’s time to challenge yourself.
That’s what I love about playing with Jimmy and Johnnie, a three-person show that I do once a month with John Hildreth, who is a wonderful improviser and teacher, and a special guest. Before each show, we talk briefly about one thing we want to do differently in the show to challenge ourselves. It’s simple, but I’ve found it to be really effective.
In out last show, our special guest was Dee Ryan, who I love playing with, and we decided to throw out our usual way that we start each show, which is by doing a three-person scene that we are all matching energies in, and instead do a series of short, two-person scenes until we hit a crescendo and then do a three-person scene. The show was a blast because changing things up forced us to discover new territory as a group, which is exciting. It gave the show a different energy, and we achieved the Holy Grail for improvisers, which is “the rush.”
When we hit complacency, we are dead as improvisers, artists and people. To get the rush back, you have to constantly expand your comfort zone on stage.
Here are three tips for how to keep challenging yourself on stage:
For me, challenging myself and forcing myself to get out of my comfort zone is just a way to keep learning. The best players in improv never stop learning or challenging themselves, and I hope this is you.
There is a saying I’ve heard that goes: "Don't quit before the miracle." But when you’re in the arts and creating shows, how do you know how long you have to wait?
I have been doing the podcast Improv Nerd for over five years. I’ve had some really big name guests. I’ve toured with the show all across the country at improv festivals and theaters. But the audiences have always been unpredictable. Sometimes we’ve had as few as two wayward improv students, and sometimes we’ve had some really nice crowds of about 80 people.
They've never been huge. Until last Sunday.
Our guest was Rachel Dratch and it was part of the Chicago Improv Festival. We originally had the show booked in Judy’s Beat Lounge at the Second City. It sold out in a matter of hours, so we moved it to a larger venue at Second City’s e.t.c. Theater. Then that show sold out, too, and finally they moved it to the Second City Main Stage. And for the first time in more than five years, I was actually performing the show in front of more than 300 people.
Plus, not only did it sell out, the show itself was incredible. Rachel was as honest and open in the interview as you could hope for. But the best part for me was getting to improvising with her again. We had been in a couple groups together back in the '90s in Chicago, and performing with her again was so easy, just like improv should be.
I joked at the top of show that my goal when I started out in improv in my 20s was to be on Main Stage. I just didn’t think it would take 30 years to get there and only last an hour.
But you know what? I did it. Who would have thought when I started doing this silly little podcast that I would end up on Main Stage doing it for one night? I certainly didn't. And the thing that is so cool is I did it with something I created.
I cannot tell you how many times I have wanted to quit doing this podcast. And to be perfectly honest here, I am not certain of its future. I have put a lot of time into it, so much so that my wife Lauren is getting annoyed at me and wants me to move on to other things. I have sunk of a lot of my own money into it. I have bitched and moaned that I think I should be farther along with it at this point. It should be more popular and I should be living off it. That has not come true, yet. But what is true is that I have not quit on myself.
The thing that sucks is you never know when something is going to catch on. We’re trained to think that if something doesn’t catch on in a couple of weeks we should abandon it immediately and assume we are doing something wrong.
I’ve often been a quitter in my life – whether it was in little league, in school, or in my improv career. But finally with this show, I’ve stuck with it. I just kept trudging down the road, even when I didn’t want to, so when a big opportunity finally arose, I was prepared. I had done the live show close to 200 times by the time this one came along. I have a staff of six people who make the show run like a Swiss watch. All of us were ready for our big moment and it showed.
When I first started doing the podcast I felt entitled. I thought, “I am Jimmy Carrane and I am getting these great guests. Why isn’t this an instant hit?” I was not ready. I look back and I am glad that this big show came when it did.
The hardest part of not giving up is you never know when the miracle is going to come. I think they call that faith. So whatever you do, if you believe in yourself or your own project, keep going. Don't give up before the miracle happens.
As you know, jealousy and self-defeating attitudes are something that has plagued me for my entire improv career. For years, whenever someone else got something I wanted, I judged them for it, and whenever a new opportunity presented itself to me, I would immediately assume that I wasn't good enough to get it. Oy.
Courtney Rioux, a life coach in Chicago who works exclusively with performers who want to become unstuck, is someone who truly understands the kind of negative self-talk that we improvisers and actors have that holds us back. So this week, I asked if she would be willing to write a guest blog about this, with some tips on how to start thinking more positively. Enjoy!
***
Okay, I admit it. I used to be insanely jealous of other actors and improvisers who were having more success than I was. I was unhappy with my career and I thought I should be further along than I was.
The funny thing is, the more I focused on what I didn’t have and comparing myself to others, the harder it became to allow new opportunities and growth to come into my life.
Ever been there? Are you there now? It sucks, doesn’t it?
When it comes to money or opportunities, a “lack” mindset can really keep you feeling like crap. Energetically, there’s no room for growth or success in that space.
Nowadays when I catch myself in a “lack” mindset, I stop and examine the thoughts that are running through my head. You wouldn’t believe the creative (and majorly unhelpful!) ideas that I would cling to — although you might be able to relate to some of them.
Check out some of the beliefs I caught myself thinking that kept me in a mindset of lack:
Yikes! It’s amazing how powerful those phrases become when left unchecked. We actually start to believe them, and behave accordingly. The good news is, even the simple fact that you’re reading this article speaks to your desire to move beyond those limiting thoughts (and you certainly can).
Tapping into Awareness and Truth
In Brene Brown’s new book, Rising Strong, she shares five little words that are the secret to awareness and truth. These five words will help your brain realize that even though you’re thinking destructive thoughts, they’re not Truth with a capital “T.” They’re simply thoughts that are running through your head.
Ready to learn those five little, amazing words?
“The story I’m telling is…”
If you just add the words, “The story I’m telling is…” before you say the beliefs that are keeping you unhappy and stuck, you can shift them later.
Here’s what it might look like in practice:
When you add those five little magical words before your thoughts, you leave room for the truth. Those five magical words help remind you that there is a more empowering way to reframe your thoughts to help you succeed. Here are some ways to reframe your negative thoughts:
As humans we are awesome at making up meaning for everything that happens in life. What we could do better is making up more empowering meanings.
I dare you to try this today. As you move through your day, just notice when those limiting beliefs come up. Warning: Sometimes those buggers are hard to catch! When you do catch one, identify it as a story and turn it around.
I promise you’ll feel much better once you do.
What story are you telling right now? How can you transform it and find a more empowering truth in that story? Please share in the comments below!
Courtney Rioux, The Whole Artist, coaches performers who feel stuck in their career and want more out of life. She's here to help you shift your mindset from stuck and unhappy to empowered and joyful — all while making it feel fun and easy. It’s like therapy without the therapy. Join her for a free call every month by signing up here.
When Betsy was born, people said stupid things to me like, "You are going to learn a lot from her." I was so annoyed by that, why, I can't tell you, but they were right. So far she has taught me about patience and unconditional love and how to survive on a minimal amount of sleep.
But the other day, Betsy was sitting in her high chair and trying to learn how to feed herself. My little determined daughter would grab tiny handfuls of cold oatmeal mixed with little specs of prunes off the high chair tray and attempt to put them in her mouth. About 85 percent of her food landed elsewhere — the floor, her clothes, her face — so much so that she looked like she was face painting. She was having fun.
Her mother was far more annoyed than I was, but what I realized as I was watching her was if you are going to learn a new skill it’s going to be messy. At this stage in her development, she was going to miss much more than she was going to succeed. What was so fascinating to me was she didn’t seem to have any judgement about how much food landed in her mouth versus how much food landed in her hair. She was having fun with the process.
I’ve talked, and probably even written in this blog, about how messy it is to learn improv and how most people starting out, me include, want to skip this step and go right to genius-level. It does not work like that, thank God, because if it did, it would just produce more dicks, myself included. By accepting that learning and growing is going to be messy without judging ourselves for making mistakes, we become humble and infinitely more teachable.
What I learned from her is she does not beat herself up or put unrealistic expectations on herself when she can’t reach her goals; she leaves that up to her parents. Instead, she just trudges along doing the best she can. The progress I see with her feeding herself is gradual. Some days more food lands in her mouth than on her face, and sometimes it's like we are starting over. But slowly, she is getting better.
One of the problems many improv students have is they want to get better fast, and they can’t see the incremental progress they are making along the way. All they see are the bad shows or bad moves they make in a scene — the places they messed up. But here’s the thing: If you’re out there taking classes and continuing to do shows, your most likely getting better each time and not even realizing it.
My wish for you, and myself included, is to accept that you’re going to make mistakes, to embrace your messiness, and to have as much fun no matter how much food you’re getting in your mouth or in your hair.