This Blog Sucks

Has this ever happened to you? After a string of great shows you get tons of compliments, but instead of being happy you start to worry… will you be able to keep it up? You’ve raised the bar on your improvising so high that if you don’t deliver you will disappoint. You’re paralyzed in your fear. What if the next show sucks?

Eventually it will happen. You will have a show that will suck. Maybe several. But it will be a new kind of suck; a better version of what “suck” used to look like, because “suck” is relative. What “suck” looked like a year ago is not the same as this year. Your suckiness is getting better. That has been my experience in improv.

That is where I am today. I don’t feel like writing this blog, because I felt that last two blogs were exceptional. I am afraid I won’t be able to top them and I am afraid to suck. It’s called “expectations” and they work like this: you set a really high standard for yourself and if you don’t maintain it you suck.  It’s non-negotiable. It’s pass or fail. You end up either winning a Pulitzer Prize or you’re a piece of shit.

So what if I committed to the idea that the blog I am writing right now is going to suck?

I agree to write the worst blog ever. (In a lot of ways, I think I’ve gotten off to a pretty good start.) I’ll let go of my expectations, and as my new-age friends like to say, “lean into” it.  I’m serious here. Just by saying that out loud, I have come up with at least 10 ways I can make this blog really suck. Like what if I just stop typing and end the blog right here?

That would suck, wouldn’t it? But I don’t have the courage to do that because of my fear of what you’d think of me as writer, and more importantly; as a person.

I feel a little lighter just knowing that this blog is going to suck. I’m having a little more fun typing these words onto the page. I am actually enjoying myself. I may even dare to use the word “happy.” I feel happy.

I have to tell you, I don’t know where this blog is going to end up… except it’s going to suck. All roads leads to Suckville. And I am really fighting the urge to tie this up and give you a Jimmy lesson, but I am resisting it. I want to honor our commitment to suckiness, but maybe a lesson out of left field would really make it suck.

Let’s keep this simple. How about we all agree that this was one of the worst blogs I have ever written, so we can all move on? In a weird way admitting that to you has given me some hope that I still have some great blogs ahead of me. (This blog not included.) Who would’ve thought that committing to sucking would give me so much freedom and inspiration? I should do it more often.

Fine– I suck and I’m cool with it. I am going out to celebrate the fact that I wrote a blog that sucked. See you next week, and that is how you end a blog that sucks.


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Time for a Break

Time for a break

Jimmy, Jet, Johnnie, Scott AdsitThere is a myth among improvisers that the more classes you take and more shows you do, the better you will be. We can become addicted to this art form, always hungry to do more.

But sometimes, you can do more by doing less. If you feel burnt out or over-extended by performing, by all means, slow down, stop and take a break.

Symptoms of improv burn out:

  • Feeling like you’re not having any fun
  • Feeling resentment when you are doing a class or a show
  • Feeling annoyed at your teammates or classmates, or people in general
  • Daydreaming during a class or show that you are back at your apartment watching cable TV

Most people, including myself think they can muscle their way through these feelings and keep on performing. Let me tell you, this doesn’t work. Improv requires creative energy, and we only have so much.

In some cases you may be burnt out and don’t even know it. I should know. It just happened to me two weeks ago.

I was really pushing myself by teaching improv classes, adding extra Improv Nerd podcasts, and doing more long form shows. At one point I did four shows and class in a 24-hour period.

I was telling myself that “this is how people get ahead.” Whatever that means.

The problem wasn’t that I was doing too much, it was that I wasn’t enjoying it. One of the four shows was with Scott Adsit from 30 Rock, John Hildreth and Jet Eveleth, and I was looking forward to it. It was for the Chicago Improv Festival, and we had a packed house. We improvised together for 40 minutes and the audience loved it. It was a great show, or so I was told.

My wife came up to me after the Scott Adsit show and told me it was the best show she had ever seen me do. I could not feel it, I could not see it, I could not believe it. By this point, I was burnt to a crisp, and the first thing to go is my perception. When I’m burnt out, I can’t be objective. Instead, I stop having fun and I think everything I do sucks.

And here is the sick part: When I think my performing is terrible, I think the solution is to work harder. So I tried that, and that led to me becoming even more annoyed, angry and impatient.

Why did this happen? Simple. Because I made improv my higher power, my god, the thing that will provide me with unlimited happiness. And in the process, I stopped taking care of myself and stopped doing things that are good for me, like working out, reading and connecting with friends.

In my head, I think if only I could do the perfect show (the one that doesn’t exist), then I will be whole again. And the irony is even if I did do the so-called “perfect show,” it would be wasted because I wouldn’t be able to feel it!

So after I supposedly “sucked” in the show with Scott Adsit, I was sitting on the couch with my wife in the office of our couple’s therapist bitching for 10 minutes about how I feel numb about all of the good things happening in my life and how nothing on stage or off is providing me with any joy.

And this is what he says: “You can get more done by taking a break.”

What the…?I was kind of shocked at first, but later I realized he was right. I needed to slow down, stop and take a break. I like what our therapist said because it reminds me that I have to take care of my life, because if I don’t, it will deplete my art. And when my art is depleted, that is hell ― improv hell.

I am happy to report that I took two days off this week, and I am beginning to feel some joy again. Hope you do, too.