Chapter 8
In improv comedy, the actors are making up scenes and stories from nothing. They start by showing up and stepping out on that stage. They don't know what they're going to do or say, nor do they know what their fellow actors are going to do or say. Standing on a floor‐level stage in a dark basement theater, the actors are surrounded on all sides by an audience that is in parts excited, indifferent, supportive and hostile.
The actor, standing alone on stage with the rest of the cast behind him/her, asks the audience a simple question, something like “What have you recently purchased for over $100?” Without any preplanned thoughts or conversations, these actors take the rawest of material and weave a tale with multiple layers, many different characters, jumps in time, unexpected twists and turns, all somehow leading to a neat resolution of the story. When done well, it feels almost like a magic trick. Six performers, never speaking a word to each other, somehow immediately get on the same page, coherently moving ideas forward so seamlessly that it looks like it must be preplanned.
In a matter of seconds, improv actors have to accept a previously unknown idea, free associate off of what they have heard, negotiate with another actor as to the who, what, and where of the scene, come to an agreement, and move the idea forward. All while also attempting to make the audience laugh. The performers are also being publicly judged, and the feedback that they receive tells them if they have been successful or if they have failed almost immediately.
So how, exactly, do these people create in such a stressful environment? Is it natural talent? A divine spark? Extreme narcissism, an expression of risk‐taking, or the need to be loved by a group of strangers? It is really none of those things (Well, except perhaps the narcissism and the need to be loved). What improvisational actors are doing is using a highly advanced communication skill set that they have practiced and honed over many years, a skill set that allows them to exchange information with each other in such a way that moves ideas forward, while also letting the ideas evolve throughout the scene. Improv actors have mastered the ability to listen to other people's ideas while also having the confidence to add their own input to help advance the scene. The end product is a wholly original piece of work that no one performer can claim credit for, yet each actor can call their own.
Creating in this way is not just attainable by the actors on stage but really by anyone who wants to learn the improvisational process. It is a process that can be broken down into different parts and applied to most any creative endeavor. While there are many books about the high philosophy and deep art of improv, I try to look at things in a more functional way. We can discuss theory all day long, what I really want to know if I'm reading this book is the tangible things I can do to make shit up. So let's explore.
We have already covered the importance of listening. Without this basic fundamental skill, you will be shit out of luck trying to implement these other techniques. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of listening to understand and how that will positively impact everything else you do in life. We have discussed the idea jumping on the spark when we see it. Being able to create an environment where inspiration can find us is critical. Through curiosity, observing and doing shit we constantly expose ourselves to new stimuli that will eventually show itself to us and the form of a spark of inspiration. We have practiced overcoming our of fear of looking stupid as well overcoming our fear of failure. Now let's take a look and how we can make shit up and move ideas forward in a real way.
Once we have identified an idea that excites us and just won't go away, we need to do something about it. After the initial euphoria of the new idea wears off, the daunting reality sets in: “How am I ever going to make this thing happen?”
The first thing I like to do is heighten the concept. “Heightening” is a technique where a concept is built upon in such a way that it grows from a seemingly normal, practical idea into a crazy, outlandish end product that makes people lose their minds. This is the most fun part of the process. We are allowing our imagination to go places that are exciting and original, unfettered by practicality or reality at the moment.
In an improv scene heightening is what builds the stakes and tension and generally leads to humor. If a scene consists of someone walking into a coffee shop, purchasing a cup of coffee, and then leaving, it would be fairly uninteresting. A version of that scene with heightening might look like this:
Someone walks into a coffee shop to purchase a cup of coffee. Upon receiving their cup of coffee the person is informed that they are the one‐millionth customer. Excited, the customer asks if they get a free cup of coffee. The barista says no. The barista then points out the window to a dump truck filled with one million coffee beans, exclaiming that the beans are the prize! The customer is so excited that they run out the door to see what they have won. The guy in the dump truck sees the customer come out of the store and asks if they are the winner. The customer says yes, and the truck driver immediately dumps all one million coffee beans on the customer, burying him.
As you can see, the heightening that happened in this scene led to a far more interesting and hopefully funny story. The same original premise was still there – customer walks into a coffee shop to buy a cup of coffee – but by making exaggerated choices at different parts in the scene, it became far more compelling to watch.
That is all well and good when done onstage, but what does it look like with ideas that are not performance related?
Here is an example of a general idea, heightened:
· I'm interested in rescue dogs.
· What if I rescue stray dogs?
· What if I create a home for them?
· What if that home was a farm?
· How about a ranch?
· 10 acres.
· 50 acres.
· 100 acres.
· 1,000 acres.
· A ranch where hundreds of dogs could live.
· Thousands of dogs.
· And I call it Dogland Ranch.
· And that ranch is on a tropical island, because I want to live somewhere warm.
· And it becomes a destination where people who love animals can spend a week living with the dogs, tending to them and just enjoying helping the animals.
· And at the end of their stay they can adopt a dog.
· And I build a hotel and resort for them to stay at while visiting.
· And I build a veterinary clinic, where not only are the animals taken cared for but training is also provided for the local population.
· And I team up with a renowned veterinary school in the United States to make it happen.
· And also on that land I develop other businesses.
· A winery: Dogland Ranch wines.
· A distillery: Dogland Ranch Rum.
· A legal marijuana farm: Dogland Ranch Best Buds.
· And profits from these other industries go to saving more animals and educating more people.
That is what heightening looks like, and for me it is easily the most fun part of the creative process. (Full disclosure, this is an idea I'm actively working on. If anybody reading this has 1,000 acres available on a tropical island, hit me up. Dogland Ranch is my retirement plan.) I am of the belief that it takes just about the same amount of effort to think big as it does to think small. If I am going to exert my admittedly limited mental energy, I might as well have fun and think big.
What heightening an idea does is create excitement and momentum, and the further you go with it the looser and less judgmental you become. As you become less judgmental you allow ideas to blossom that maybe you might not have considered or would have quickly discarded in the past.
What may seem ridiculous if thought of on its own now fits perfectly into the flow of the heightening process. By heightening the original ideas, you now have far more material to consider. Your original idea is still there and you can go back to it at any point, but you also may find that you have new or more interesting versions of that original concept that excite you. You can then go back to the list you have created and start to consider what path you want to take and which ideas seem feasible.
Maybe a hotel and resort on a tropical island is not attainable. But maybe a small bed‐and‐breakfast with a barn and 30 acres is. An entire veterinary clinic may be out of reach, but a local partnership with an area university might be just the thing. A marijuana farm might be unrealistic due to legal restrictions, but a craft distillery branded with your business and the profits going to a great cause may be the perfect combination of seemingly unrelated ideas. Now we have enough of an idea that we can start to take basic actions to begin moving it forward.
Practicing heightening is the easiest and most fun thing to do in the entire creative process. As ideas come to you, simply play the what‐if game. Start with your original concept and ask “What if…,” adding on an ending to the question. Build each “What if…” question off of the last one. By doing it this way, you begin to stack ideas, building a tower of loosely connected concepts. The ideas at the top of the tower may not seem to have any connection to the original idea. That is perfectly okay and actually desired. But because each idea is built off of the one that precedes it, you can easily trace back from top to bottom and recognize unseen connections.
Like all of the concepts we are discussing in this book, the more you practice these techniques, the easier they are to perform. You can do this kind of exercise alone or in a group, anywhere at anytime, for zero dollars.