Wisdom for Writers From the World of Improv

Improv: an approach to improvisational theatre derived from the work of Viola Spolin and Keith Johnstone

Improvisation is at the heart of creativity. That initial moment when nothing becomes something is at the core of artistic endeavour and of invention, and it is by definition improvisational.

Craft takes that inital something and forms it into an object d’art: a painting, a sculpture, a machine, a tool, a book, or a rehearsed performance.

Writers need craft. We need grammar and vocabulary, paragraphs and structure, tone and style. But we must not lose our connection with that creative moment, that initial spark, our muse. If we are in danger of losing that initial impulse, we can find guidance in the art forms that celebrate the creative moment as a complete thing in itself, improvisational forms.

To set the scene

I discovered Viola Spolin’s work during my theatrical training. Her book, Improvisation for the Theater was a primary text in my directing class and had an enduring impact on the way I work as an actor and as a director. Later, I trained with BATS Improv, where I learned about long form improvisation and the work of Keith Johnstone. I attended a master class with Johnstone that was instrumental in changing my understanding of character relationships in life and in stories.

When I returned to writing fiction a few years ago, the practices and principles of Improv were tools I brought with me.

Wisdom from the World of Improv

  • Show Up and Commit: For improvisational performers, the moment of stepping on to the stage and doing something, anything, is an oppurtunity that fear can kill. To make a performance engaging, the actor must step boldly onto the stage and perform as though there is nothing else that she could be doing at that moment. So, too, for writers. The moment we show up at the page can be fraught with fear. But, if we write boldly, with commitment to moving forward, we are creating. We can edit later, but for that first creation, we must simply show up and start writing – something, anything.
  • Start Anywhere: There is no correct place to begin. A performer can start with a setting, a gesture, a line of dialogue, an idea. So, too, can a writer. Start with the first thing that comes to mind and commit to that and it will lead the next word.

“The improviser has to realize that the more obvious he is, the more original he appears….Ordinary people asked to improvise will search for some ‘original’ idea because they want to be thought clever…. No two people are exactly alike, and the more obvious an improviser is, the more himself he appears. An artist who is inspired is being obvious. He’s not making any decisions; he’s not weighing one idea against another. He’s accepting his first thoughts….Striving after originality takes you far away from your true self, and makes your work mediocre.”

  • Accept What is Offered: The Improv mantra is “Yes, and….” This is shorthand for accepting what your scene partners give you and incorporating it into your work rather than rejecting it because it didn’t match your ideas of where the scene can go. This principle of “yes, and…” is what writers use when the muse hits them with an idea that pushes them to revise the outline they were following. Orson Scott Card used to tell his writing students that “the best stories often come from the juxtoposition of completely unrelated ideas.” Take those ideas and run with them. Don’t squash them. See where they lead. It might be magical.
  • Make Mistakes: If you aren’t making mistakes, you aren’t risking enough. If you try something different, you’ll probably mess it up a few times. Keep trying. Making mistakes is how we learn. Haven’t tried improvising a song before; you’ll sing a few horrible ones before you find a chorus that works. Haven’t written a sonnet; you’ll probably write some stinkers before you write one you don’t hate. If you aren’t willing to risk mistakes, you won’t grow.

In improvised performance, mistakes invite the audience into the journey more deeply as they worry whether the actors will find their way out of that challenge. Thriller writer Barry Eisler posts errors readers find in his novels on his web site; I am sure that has endeared him to some readers and sent others back to his books looking for mistakes just so they could make meaningful contact with him.

  • Status Matters: This is actually a key to characterization. People care about how they look and feel in relationship to one another. Every single interaction between two characters can be played or written as a move in a status game. The basic possible moves are: A tries to increase own status; A tries to decrease B’s status; A tries to increase B’s status – notice that having the power to do that immediately conveys status on A as well; A tries to block B as B tries to increase own status. For melodramatic purposes and for exercises, these can be huge moves. For realism, they must be as small as possible, but they must be there for characters to be believable. Friends agree to play status games with each other and accept defeat graciously; enemies play to win; everybody plays.
  • Use Your Craft: Skilled long form performers work as a team to tell a complete story, sometimes hours long. To do this, they draw on their knowledge of story structure, their experience of how to get in and out of scenes, their ability to remember what props and characters were mentioned earlier. The best performances occur when the craft is there but the audience can’t see it, when the craft is buried so deeply in the actors’ performances that it just happens. As writers, we can use this wisdom. Study craft, become consciously aware of all your available tools, practice so often that you can use them without thinking, then tell your story.

For a look at how improv can provide more general advice for life, I suggest Improv Wisdom by Patricia Ryan Madson.

If you have other ideas of how improv can be useful to writers, please share them in the comments.

Advertisements

About Kate Arms-Roberts

www.katearmsroberts.com

Posted on October 28, 2011, in Creativity, Play, This Writing Life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. Thank you, that is an interesting post!

  2. Kate, I need to bookmark this post as a great primer for improv. I recognize, of course, things I just learned in my all-too-short improv seminar, not just the “be boring” part but the “yes, and.” But it’s helpful to have it here in one tight summation, connected with writing.

    I’ll say this — Canada has produced some of the best improv comedians I’ve ever seen.

    • Kate Arms-Roberts

      I’m glad you found it useful. I tend to forget how many different forms of creative/artistic training I have in my background. It was good to be prompted to be explicit about some of the stuff that I don’t usually talk or write about. Thanks.

      It will probably come as no surprise that Keith Johnstone spent a lot of time in Canada and Viola Spolin was in Chicago.

  3. Kate,
    How very kind of you to mention IMPROV WISDOM in your post. I agree that the world of improv has much to offer the writer. Maybe of the tenets that get us going on stage are just those that will get the writer moving. Thank you for keeping these ideas alive.
    Warm regards,
    Patricia Ryan Madson

    • Kate Arms-Roberts

      Patricia,

      You are most welcome. I reread sections of IMPROV WISDOM every few months and always get something for my time. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with the world.

      Kate

  4. Nothing pleases a writer more than having a reader REREAD their work.
    Thank you.
    Patricia

  5. Kate,

    OK. You’ve “WOWed” me again. Great post with wonderful, thought-provoking insight. Seriously, you’ve got me reviewing my notes on improv and pondering the translation of what you say about writing to music composition (whether spontaneous or “written”).

    Thanks for the insight and the inspiration.

    Playful blessings,
    Stan

    • Kate Arms-Roberts

      Stan,

      I would love to hear your thoughts on the process of composition. Music is an art form where the process eludes me, though Interplay has helped me tap into the part of me that used to sing made up songs before I learned that there was a ‘right’ way to do it.

      Kate

      • In a nutshell, I was thinking that each of the pointers you offer here could translate to composing. To address each of them would be several blog posts long. I’ve already written the “make mistakes” one (http://muz4now.com/2011/just-for-now/) since it’s so integral to my view of improvisation. Show Up And Commit is another fairly clear one. Just as in writing or dancing, If I compose (spontaneously or in “fixed” compositions) a theme, don’t be afraid to come back to it. If it’s not a “committed” enough then it’s not theme-worthy anyway. Give the observer (reader, listener, watcher) something that will become familiar. Unless my purpose is to put the listener ill-at-ease. Then, I’m free to give them nothing but changes — and that becomes my commitment.

        Before this becomes a blog post and I’m late for my day job, I’m going to close by saying: See! Thanks to your post, my wheels are really turning.

        Thanks and playful blessings,
        Stan

  6. Kate Arms-Roberts

    Stan,

    Thanks. That little tidbit has got be thinking. I have been thinking a lot about repeatability, themes, and putting the listener at ease over the past few days.

    As a kid, I used to sing-through narrations of my day as I walked but rarely had anything that felt like a song – and I think now it was the lack of repeated phrases. Now, I make up lyrics to familiar tunes to sing my kids through the boring parts of the day. I am often surprised at how much joy they get out of a single phrase repeated until I get bored and then repeated with slight variations.

    Cynthia Winton-Henry pointed out in my InterPlay and Performance class that repetition gives a cohesiveness to a piece, and that repeating a phrase more often than the performers feels comfortable with is often necessary to get the audience to really groove with it. And that brings me full circle to the idea of “Dare to Be Boring” that Patrick started with that got me writing on this topic.

    Cheers,
    Kate

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: