“Improv comedy is closer to meditation than to stand-up.”

These were the words said by Rick Andrews, improviser, teacher, at a workshop I attended recently. I’m paraphrasing, but it was in reply to a question I had about being in the moment and surprising myself by what I say and do in a scene. Rick’s answer made perfect sense, not just in improv, but for life itself.

It’s also a question of focusing your mind and trust. Trusting yourself without planning your next move and focussing on what’s happening infront of you. Not listening to that voice in your head. Just doing it. Being in the moment. Being someone else and seeing what happens in a scene. Rick’s words were a revelation, they were liberating. A lightbulb moment if there ever was one.

The reason for me getting into improv comedy was because I like being funny. I always have. I want to laugh at what other people do too. This sounds like an odd thing to say, we all like comedy, yeah? Well, no, a former boss of mine saw humour as a weakness, that you weren’t taking things seriously. A joke would be met with a grave, ‘this is no laughing matter’ face. They behaved in a way that made me feel I had to mask who I am. I hated it. 

I get a dopamine hit from making people laugh which for an ADHDer like me everything lights up. It’s joy for the audience and joy for me. Pop. Pop. Pop. Nirvana. Sort of.  But I’ve made the mistake, like many do, of pre-planning what I’m going to say or do. This is out of a fear that no-one will laugh, thus failing to win their approval, which again for an ADHDer can be quite crushing (look up Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). 

I’ve had the bigger laughs by saying the first thing that comes out. That’s a weird sentence… Let’s say it’s more about bypassing the ‘editor’ (the brain). If you don’t cut out the editor there’s a delay while it thinks of something ‘funnier’ or assesses your choices. You just end up standing there saying “erm” looking awkward, before making a quip that isn’t half as funny had you done something in the moment. In the meantime, you’re not listening, everything has moved on and you’re too late. There’s nothing wrong with saying something spontaneously or reacting to what someone has said – unless it’s wholly inappropriate, of course. 

Being in the moment is more authentic. It’s more human. This goes for life in general too. I’ve sat through some terrible speeches and presentations due to scripting and overpreparation. It’s the anti-dopamine, the stuff that sends me to sleep or into a low mood. The best speeches are by people who know what they’re going to say, but not word for word. They’re more engaging, more animated, more exciting, funnier and more human.

A former leader I know used to have several bits of paper that he’d leaf though, dropping pages, getting the order muddled. He’d do jokes that only people over 40 would get and he had his stock phrases that no-one believed. He was so concerned about getting his words right that his body language was awkward, he looked embarrassed. The audience simply felt the same. Contrast that with someone who knows their subject, know their audience and trusts their abilities. In the moment. More fun. More engaging. More human.

Something else Rick said is to try not to be funny. This may sound counter intuitive but again, it’s liberating. Take the pressure off yourself to be funny. Inevitably, if you’re following the basic rules of improv and you’re fully engaged in your scene, the funny will come. It builds. And that quiet from the audience isn’t rejection, they’re engaged, they’re waiting. So don’t give them a crappy joke. A lazy pun. They want to see real people doing real people things. Humans are funny, even without trying to be. Don’t you think?

My best lines, moves, reactions, have always delighted and surprised me. If I didn’t know it was coming, then the audience doesn’t either.  One recent example was when I said a drink I was offered in a scene tasted like “carpet”. What does carpet taste like? I have no idea, but we all have an idea what carpet tastes like. And, who knew I was going to say carpet? Not me and not a single person in the audience. Surprise and delight. That’s what it’s all about.