prusik | I've got a barn. Let's put on a show!

I just finished the last class of Level IV of the improv workshop that I've been taking for the past year. Level V, ominously titled "Showtime!", is exactly what it sounds like. We have eight weeks to put together the structure for a 45 minute show which (heaven help us!) we perform 4 times. Perhaps against my better judgment, I've committed (as in they've charged my credit card). I almost titled this entry "So be it, and God have mercy upon me" but that's a bit hyperbolic.

I guess the sign we're ready for this is that we've just gotten the "there are no rules!" speech. That is, yes, for the past year, they've been teaching us the essential concepts of improv. Scene work much better if you have an established character relationship with your scene partner. Scene work much better if you accept each others offers. If we establish that something is true about the world, then work out what else is true about the world. There are a variety of time tested techniques for scene editing. And so on. However, this isn't physics. These are hardly inviolate laws which describe the fundamental workings of the universe. These are experiential guidelines which may not hold in all situations.

Ok, he didn't put it like that. Nor did he say throw away all the rules. But I was so ready to hear what he did say. Great improv does not come from following a recipe. It's not as straightforward as merely cranking out product which follows all the rules. There's no industrial process that leads to good scenes. (As it turns out, the best bits of advice tell you what to do, but not a clue as to how.)

I'm reminded of something Teresa Nielsen Hayden said. (I paraphrase:) "If a story works, no amount complaint about how it breaks the rules will make it not work. If a story doesn't work, no amount of recourse to how it follows the rules will make it work." Lots of people have said similar things. Barry Longyear, at ReaderCon last year, point out that people aren't drawn to work which does nothing wrong. People are drawn to work which does something right. (He cautioned that the workshop process was apt to produce the former more than the latter.)

The trick is that religiously following the rules doesn't automatically lead you to doing something right. They're very good at steering you away from doing something wrong. However, they constrain. They don't open up possibilities for you. They don't take you places that you've never gone to.

It shouldn't be surprising that I'm constantly finding analogies between writing and improv. Obviously, they're not the same thing. Writing is ultimately a thought out process. Improv is much more seat of one's pants. Gambits which work in one situation may not work so well in another. (e.g., say "Leave me alone!" to your scene partner, and she may accept your offer by exiting the stage! That's only a good thing if you wanted to be alone on stage.) However, they both deal with the transmission of story from one party to another.

Anyway, as I struggle through yet another opening to the story I'm currently writing, I take heart in that there are no real rules, no sure fire recipe. I just need to go do something right. (Actually, I'm thinking I may put this story back into the drawer again and write something else instead. This is my "intimidated by story potential" story. It could be so awesome in its scope and sweep if I didn't keep screwing it up. But like I said, not improv. I get to try it again... and again.)

BTW, along the lines of "let's put on a show", the improv group which runs the workshops does one mass audition a year and it's coming up in two weeks. I think I'm going to audition. There's no pressure. I have no chance of getting in. I'll be happy if I don't take my scene partners down with me. (No, they didn't say I have no chance to getting in. This is strictly a personal assessment.) But I think it'll be lots of fun. And, hey, it's improv. I don't have to prepare anything for it. I just show up and wing it.

The week after that, I have to re-audition for my choir. This will not be lots of fun. The audition piece though, I hope will be. It might be ready in three weeks, I hope. (Finzi had chosen to set each verse of "It was a lover and his lass" slightly differently from each other verse. I'm sure he had only the greatest reasons for this. The piece goes at a breakneck pace though. There's a certain amount of performance stress here as I keep track of each verse goes.) It'll be really cool if I can make it work.