The Healthy Improviser

Staying Healthy

for the Professional Improviser

I’ve been watching improv actors make magic for over thirty years.  One of the deep joys of living in the Bay Area is having access to a remarkable array of Improvisational Theatre groups.  I’ve been the lucky audience for several thousand performances of “one of a kind” plays created out of shear grit and magic on the spot.  I’ve watched a number of groups come and go, form and dissolve; reform and spring back like the Phoenix.  Among them were Pulp Playhouse, True Fiction Magazine, Three for All,  San Francisco Improv Playhouse, Awkward Dinner Party and two decades of BATS shows to name a few. 

The community of artists who perform this work are both saints and crazies in my opinion.  Their talent and courage (and endurance over time) astonishes me.  I’ve been a theater person for half a decade.  I taught acting at Stanford University, spent summers doing stock with the Colorado Shakespeare Festival, the Nebraska Repertory Theatre and several raucous southern Outdoor Drama productions.  I have not, however, trod the boards of the improv stage.  It’s far too scary for me, I tell my students. I’m okay with a script.  I like knowing when the show’s over. 

However, I teach improv and like to think that my long years experience in the classroom, if not on stage, allows me a voice.  What’s on my mind is the mental/spiritual health of the men and women who are professional improv actors.  I am writing this as a love letter to these courageous players in the hope that this advice might make sense.  You know who you are.  You have been gifting me and my students for decades.

When you improvise a performance you are using 120% of your humanity.  Becoming characters that live and breathe and struggle and die and change and love and mourn  (all in front of a paying audience) takes a gigantic human toll.  I’m guessing that when the lights go down after a successful show (or even a mediocre or lousy one) each of you is both exhilarated and exhausted.   To improvise means that you are using the whole self-- body, mind and spirit.  You are using your deep database of knowledge of literature, story, character, locale, vocal technique and social psychology.  It’s a miracle, when you really consider what is happening, especially in a long form show, but to a lesser extent, in short form improv as well.  I can’t think of any other human activity that uses ALL of our human capacity at the same time as this art does.  Even Olympic athletes, while using 100% of their physical and mental ability are not creating the scene and story on the spot before an audience.  I think professional improv actors are Gods and Goddesses, or at least Superheroes.  They are doing so much more than even great actors are called upon to do.  

So, my advice is this:  You must take time off from this work in order to regenerate.  Even if your physical health is excellent your soul and spirit/mind need time to refuel.  Improv actors need alone time, preferably in nature away from family and social requirements.  They need to ingest new nourishment.  They need to read stories and books of literature and poetry.  They need to see movies and television dramas of quality as well as those of dubious worth.  They need to take in images, characters, cultures and genres to stoke up their arsenal of fiction.  They benefit from travel both domestic and foreign.  They need time in which they are not required to perform and put out.  They need spaciousness, rest and as Michael Harris suggests: they need absence—real time and space in which they are not required to do anything.  I’m convinced that a week of this kind of regenerative space can produce large payoffs in terms of mental and physical health. 

I’m sure this all sounds like a good idea, but when will you ever find that open week?  It won’t fall in your lap . . . unless you so exhaust yourself that you become unwell and are quarantined.  Instead, those of you who give so much of your life on the improv stage (and in classes which also are high calorie life events) you must set aside the time.  Put it on your calendar as you would a work assignment.  And, then execute that week of refreshment. 

In addition to finding genuine sabbatical time (as mentioned above) it is also important to find “mini-vacations” in which you cultivate alone time, with your cell phones turned off.  Perhaps you can spend a free afternoon alone in a great science or art museum just wandering the galleries and soaking up the beauty and wonder of art and nature.  Or you can walk in the park slowly without an agenda, possibly people watching.  I have stressed the value of alone time.  The kind of regeneration I’m advocating happens more rarely when you are with a partner or spouse.  Find time to be alone.  Read a fine book.  Munch an apple.  Savor a cup of tea. 

If you begin to make a life habit of nourishing your humanity with spaciousness on a regular basis I predict that your on-stage improv life will flourish and grow.  You deserve this and you need this.  I hope some of you will take this to heart.  Let me know how it goes.

by Patricia Ryan Madson 

October  3, 2015

I Can't Sell Improv

I am lousy at self-promotion.  Although my father was a salesman the gene didn’t get passed on.  I’d be hard pressed to deliver a brochure promising all kinds of benefits if you study or work with me.  I can’t do it, because I have no idea what an individual may actually get out of the study of improv with me.  This is why the final exam paper in my Stanford University undergraduate class was always an open question.  Please write as much as you need to answer:  “What I learned in Drama 103.”   I still have a whole file cabinet full of these essays.  They dazzle me.  But “what do you want them to learn?” might be a fair question.  I hope you won’t think it a cop out when I reply:  “What they learn is up to them.”  Improv is a kind of mirror for what’s going on in a life.  If you are controlling and critical or if you are fair-minded and generous improv will highlight this. 
I’ve been teaching this stuff for over 30 years.   And while my home base is the University classroom, over these decades I’ve also taught workshops and seminars for a wide and diverse group of clients.  Many of these have been in educational venues or for educators (think school administrators) as well as business groups. My corporate clients have included a smattering of the Silicon Valley giant businesses including Apple, Google, Adobe Systems, Sun Microsystem Japan Division as well as think tanks like the Woods Institute,  IDEO, the Packard Foundation and the Banff Centre for Leadership Studies and the National Collegiate Inventors and Innovators Alliance.
At the risk of sounding arrogant I won’t work for anyone who requires an outline or summation of what the workshop will cover in advance. I’m sorry, improv isn’t like this.  If you want me to teach improvisation, I too must be improvising and modeling the behavior I am trying to impart.  You will just have to trust me.
 Some clients expect that you will deliver “a product” that is definable, measurable and accountable.  And, given how corporations work I suppose this is a reasonable expectation.  Shouldn’t I be able to tell those who hire me what their employees will learn or be able to demonstrate after spending X hours under my guidance?  I can’t do this honestly.  If I do I feel like a snake oil salesman. What I can talk about is my purpose in leading the class, for example I might say: “I’ll be working to create a climate in which the players will feel safe enough to try new things in public.”
I have no idea how to measure creativity, although If I could find a reliable way I’d likely make a fortune.  What seems creative to me may well differ from your observation or definition.  The time honored phrase: “Thinking outside the box” is just the opposite of what I advise.  “Look at the obvious with new eyes or new appreciation,” I suggest.
What brought me to this riff is the issue of “debriefing.”  This is a time honored part of the profile of nearly any seminar or workshop.  According to the Business Bible on high the final 30-40 minutes of any training event must be spent reprising what has been presented and discussing its meaning to the group or to the individual.  In a nutshell a skilled presenter should:

1.     Tell you what he’s going to tell you.

2.     Tell you the information itself.

3.     Tell you what he told you.

In this workshop we are going to study and learn A, B,and C.  Here is A.  Here is B.  Here is C.  And now, to debrief, what we learned was A, B, C.  Got it?  Good.
I suppose this system of information transfer is suitable for some things.  It’s also what we’ve come to expect when we attend trainings.  Usually the content is accompanied by a Power Point with bullet points about A, B and C and their subtopics.  Sometimes if you’re lucky there are also graphics or cartoons to illustrate A or B or C.  (or all three).
An improv class is different.  I like to step into a room with a group of people not knowing what is going to happen.  Then I lead them to try things and we see what happens.  We notice lots of things:  what our partner did or said, for example.  We observe what is happening and what needs to happen and make adjustments. We practice letting go of outcomes or expectations. If we screw up or make a mistake we notice that too, and capitalize on it, if possible.  We might even celebrate this with a whooping cheer of TA-DA!!!
I am not opposed to reflection. It’s just that the time honored notion of formal debriefing just doesn’t fit with this work/play.  Spend those twenty minutes playing another game. 


Patricia Ryan Madson        September 19, 2015
Published also on LinkedIn

Random Acts of Kindness Introductions Game

Random Acts of Kindness Introductions

The Improv Game created by Nat Tsolak

August, 2015

From Wikipedia:

“Random act of kindness

A random act of kindness is a selfless act performed by a person or people wishing either to assist or to cheer up an individual person or people. The phrase may have been coined by Anne Herbert, who says that she wrote "Practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty" on a place mat at a Sausalito restaurant in 1982 or 1983.^[1][2] Either spontaneous or planned, random acts of kindness are encouraged by various communities.”

One of the perks of being a member of the AIN (Applied Improv Network) is meeting others around the world involved in using improvisation tools to help people.  Nat Tsolak from the UK (London) has a background in both Psychology and business as well as comedy improv.  We have never met, but reading his posts on Facebook I’m sure that we’d be great friends if our paths do breach the big pond someday. 

A few weeks ago I was intrigued by an announcement that he had created a new game that he calls: “Random Acts of Kindness.”  His purpose, he states, in coming up with the game was to find a way to build trust between strangers that didn’t rely on true personal revelations.  And also to give new players a chance to practice making up improvised stories.

So, the basic game, as I understand it, is for a member of the group to introduce another member by telling an improvised story which features their subject having done a “random act of kindness.”   The real value, as I see it, is to speak about someone in a wholly positive light, raising his status by sharing the little known fact.  E. g.  “I’d like to introduce Jason.  Very few people know that he always pays for the guy behind him when he crosses a toll bridge or paid freeway.”  “Meet Selena.  She collects water in a watering can in her shower and everyday waters her neighbor’s flower garden.  With the California drought it has made a difference.”

The idea is to simply endow someone as having done a kind and thoughtful deed that benefits others.  There is no need for the story to be wildly creative or fantastical.  (Although it can be.) The key thing is for us all to see that person (that character) in a positive light.  I think an added benefit is that these ideas fill the room with warm pictures of human actions that help others. 

A development of the game is to have the recipient agree to the story and add a detail from their perspective.  To illustrate this (Jason above) might add:  “Yes, and one day a lady was so charmed by my paying her toll that she rushed to catch up with me, jumped out of the car at a stoplight where we were both stopped and gave me a rose!”

Clearly, this game (as is true for most games) can be used for other purposes.  A lot depends upon what the early examples are.  It’s certainly possible to use the prompt as a way of coming up with the most elaborate and hysterical “act”, and thereby turn the game into a comedy creation session.   For my money, striving to make the endowments into wildly silly actions subverts the game.  Then, participants get the idea that we are trying to create “crazy stuff ” and may miss the point of making their partner look good.  When I teach this I always remind them that simple, ordinary examples of a “random act” are terrific.  We aren’t trying to outdo each other with cleverness.  Our purpose is to make up a story that tells of a positive action someone did.  The person receiving the story about them should feel great!  Maybe that’s the measure of the game. 

I proposed that we could all play this on Facebook.  I can name a friend and tell an imaginary story about them.  If they want to continue the game, the person storied can name someone else and make up a new story. 

What do you think? 

Two months out . . .

My expectation was that by the two month mark the challenges from the surgery would all be a thing of the past.  Well, it's not so.  Whenever I sit or lie down and then get up my body goes through a period of adjustment that includes discomfort (a sense of soreness in the hip) and an awareness that my right hip is still not strong or completely stable.  Once up and on it for a while things seem to balance out and I'm able to do the things I need to do, albeit slowly.  This is disappointing as I'd so hoped that recovery was more of a straight line upward.  My surgeon, Dr. Hartford who pronounced me "good" left me with the reminder that: "There will be good days and there will be bad days."  Hmmmm . . .

Sounds a lot like ordinary life, doesn't it.  I don't know why I imagined that it would simply get better and better every day.  And by day 100 I'd ride off into the sunset.  Pipe dreams.

Well, perhaps it is in the big picture.  My Physical Therapist, Dottie, at Seton Coastside reported that I'm getting stronger and better each time she sees me.  Guess I'm just impatient.

Since the last post there have been two milestones:  I've taken a trip to Seattle to visit my sister in law, Cheryl and brother Gary and I've returned to my ladies gym, Curves to do my morning workout.  I guess this really is progress.  What has been happening is that I continue to adjust my view to be a longer one.  "Well by Christmas I'll be moving normally."  Used to be "in a month"  or "two months" . . . the time expectation keeps on expanding.  The advice I really need to give myself is "Just take it one day at a time.  Do what needs to be done, and be thankful for all that your body is doing to support you day by day.  And, Ron, of course, is my constant support.

Uneven road

Expectations play such a big role in our lives.  Each time I've posted I've reported progress, new milestones, etc.  These last two weeks have been filled with firsts.  I'm now cleared to drive, so I'm back behind the wheel, which is very nice.  Last weekend after visiting a California Genealogical Society class with Ron we drove up to Calistoga where I took part in a wonderful weekend celebration for teachers.  The Light Awards were given to California teachers with projects designed to increase teaching effectiveness and creativity.  I was a key presenter and another first was that I gave a 90 minute "on my feet" workshop in improvisation for a lively group of educators.  It felt great to be working, thinking, doing my teaching thing.  Each moment I seemed to feel stronger and more confident about how my hip was supporting me.  Another first was going into the Indian Hot Springs mineral pool.  This was the first time I'd been given permission to immerse the wound.  It was all good, and it surely seemed like a turning point in the forward progress of the healing.

On Monday I decided on a walking program to strengthen things. I'd go onto the Coastal trail and walk in a steady manner for twenty minutes.  The next day I'd add two minutes to the walk and so on till I got to 30 good strong walking minutes.  On the day I began this Ron was walking with me and pointed out: "Did you know that you are limping?"  And, as I observed myself more closely I could see that I was.  It wasn't a clean, balanced walk.  I began to feel weak in the right leg and needed to stop several times to rest.  This was clearly a setback from the strength I'd felt over the weekend.  Again yesterday on the same timed walk it felt weak. I thought I noticed a tiny clicking sound as the hip moved.  Maybe I was imagining things.  And then in the evening I observed that the wound, which had formerly been completely healed in appearance now showed some signs of pinkness as if slightly inflamed.  Hmmmm . . . what's going on?

Instead of a simple steady upward progress it seems I may have a detour.  I so want to get strong and fit but today it's hard.  I'm contacting my medical team to see if this setback warrants seeing a physician or if it's just part of the way healing works.  Expectations . . . wanting things to be other than they are.  It's fascinating that our minds like to measure Reality against some image in our minds.  Oh let us celebrate things as they are.

One month and counting . . .

I have graduated from having "in home" Physical Therapy to doing outpatient PT.  We were lucky to get approval by Medicare to use the Seton Coastside hospital just a mile from our house.  Ron kindly took me for my first appointment with Katrina on Wednesday.  At least half of my hour appointment was taken up with various kinds of paperwork and diagnostic queries.  The amount of paperwork involved in even the most trivial of healthcare interventions staggers the mind.  Seton Coastside is an old fashioned hospital.  It does have a computer, a very old computer ( I've been going there for at least ten years for a cross section of services:  Emergency Room, Mammogram, X-rays, Physical Therapy . . . et al.) But this old computer doesn't recognize or remember me.  Sad really.

No matter how many times I arrive there I spend the first half hour signing forms and giving data to the nice lady who sits at an aging terminal typing in my personal information. They always make photocopies of my insurance and Medicare cards and my ID drivers license. I wonder where it all goes?  I've given it all literally dozens of times at this facility, but each new visit seems pristine in terms of data to be gathered.  Some day all of these data entries  will catch up with each other and will be put somewhere that is retrievable.

All reports are that I'm doing well.  I'm able to even walk around my house without a cane . . . 
 S  L  O  W  L  Y, mind you.  There is something quite wonderful about the kind of deliberateness required to move and do ordinary things.  And, on the other hand, it is also really frustrating not to have a full range of motion and to need a minute or two when I stand to get my legs under me properly.  I've been having a number of mini-meltdowns because I'm expecting all of this to go faster than it is.  Katrina, when asked, said that the full recovery from hip replacement surgery is really a full year's event.  Surely lots of progress will be made before 12 months has past, but the whole thing is a much longer process than I really had in mind.  And, sometimes it just aches.  It's not horrible, but it does get my attention.  Ron keeps reminding me that "I'm making progress . . . really I am."

We went to downtown Half Moon Bay for a walk and a Chai Latte.  After fifteen minutes walking I long to be sitting down.  Hmmmm . . . it's all part of the process, I guess.  I'm afraid this blog isn't very interesting.  But, my purpose is just to put it all down.  The good, the bad and the ordinary.

I have been doing some pleasing art.  I'll post something to add color to this otherwise dreary entry. 

Moving right along . . . entering the fourth week

My new best friend is my cane.  Moving into the fourth week of recovery from my surgery I am able to set aside the walker and accomplish most functions with the aide of a cane.  I had the choice of getting one with purple kittens and flowers, but opted for something more sedate, fashionable bronze.  A friend mentioned that using a cane provides "gravitas."  Nice.  I've been accused of many things, but gravitas will be a new one, if indeed the cane gives me a sense of dignity.  We will see.

Today is 25 days since the surgery was performed.  I'm feeling overall well-ish.  I continue to move V E R Y    S L O W L Y.   I can't lift much and the kinds of motions needed to make the bed are still a bit out of range.  But, I'm happy to report (and Ron concurs) that I'm fully functional in the kitchen and can bake cookies as well as mac and cheese.  We have been eating well, and grocery shopping is particularly fun since the smooth surface of grocery store floors makes moving easy.  In fact using the shopping card substitutes for the walker or cane.  Sweet.

Today I've been reading Bernie Roth's  (one of the founders of Stanford's d-school) new book,  THE ACHIEVEMENT HABIT.   It is full of practical advice about how to get things done, change perspective and get out of your own way.  I enjoy reading a book that respects the reader's time and offers more than platitudes.  Good reading. I recommend it.

Celebrate slowness . . .

Have you ever seen a video of a sloth moving?  It's wonderful to watch.  Every movement is careful and deliberate and exceedingly SLOW . . .   I had not known this simple biological fact.  Sloths move slowly.  These days I am a sloth.  Since I am able to do almost everything with my walker at this stage most friends consider I may be healed.  Well, I'm not.  Although it's true I am mending it is truly at a sloth's pace. There is nothing I can do in "ordinary time" or rhythm.  I am learning that the world moves at a clip.  My underwater speed may seem charming to those watching me negotiate a curb with the walker.  When I stand at the refrigerator and take out jars and vegetables I can count the number of tiny moves it takes to go from left to right.
And, while I have some tiny progress by the day, I am not getting faster.

Sometimes this makes me very heavy and sad.  Akin Salawu sent me a marvelous Buddhist tale:

Chinese Bamboo Tree

I like the story of the Chinese bamboo tree: You take a little seed, plant it, water it, and fertilize it for a whole year, and nothing happens. 

The second year you water it and fertilize it, and nothing happens. 

The third year you water it and fertilize it, and nothing happens. How discouraging this becomes! 

The fifth year you continue to water and fertilize the seed and then---take note. Sometime during the fifth year, the Chinese bamboo tree sprouts and grows NINETY FEET IN SIX WEEKS! 

Life is much akin to the growing process of the Chinese bamboo tree. 

It is often discouraging. We seemingly do things right, and nothing happens. But for those who do things right and are not discouraged and are persistent, things will happen. Finally we begin to receive the rewards. 

I am now receiving the rewards of seeds that were planted 5 years ago. You are as well. Are you getting the results you want? If not, begin today to sow the seeds of what you want 5 years from now. 

Remember, if you keep doing what you've always done, you'll get the results you've always gotten. 

By Dan Miller 

Second Week

Today is exactly two weeks from the surgery.  It's going well.  This morning my Physical Therapist came and gave me a lesson in walking with the cane.  It still feels a little advanced for now, but I can imagine in a few weeks that the cane will seem sufficient.  I'm cautious and the walker seems secure and workable.  Every day now I've gone outside for a bit of a walk uphill in my neighborhood.  Rehab isn't dramatic or exciting.  It's a kind of serious plodding along patiently.  

I've gotten some notes from friends who are concerned that I am "putting up a brave face" that everything is fine, when it would be better to share the difficulty.  Well, in truth, there is difficulty but it all seems part of the journey.  I don't expect to feel "normal" for a long time.  And, I don't need to.  What I'm feeling and doing is fine just as it is.  The new slower pace of living provides an opportunity to focus on the details of life.  There is a kind of pleasure in this.

No need to rush around and do anything.  I have enjoyed being able to cook and prepare food standing in my nice kitchen.  Life is good. And, I'm glad I had this surgery done when I did.  Each part of the experience is interesting in its own way.  Thank you to everyone sending good wishes.