I've always believed business should be creative. If it's not fun, what's the point?
I Didn't Tell Anyone I'd Done This Before
A few months ago I signed up for a beginner long-form improv class. I hadn't done improv in more than a decade, and I didn't mention that I'd done a lot of it years ago. I wasn't the best in the world, but I definitely wasn't new.
Ten Weeks, Zero to a Thirty-Minute Show
The class ran ten weeks and ended with a thirty-minute show. More than half the group had never done improv at all, and the instructor, a genuinely cool guy named Billy, taught long form instead of games, which I much prefer. I got a couple of zingers in, which isn't the goal but is always nice. Mostly, I looked forward to it every week. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it.
Read about my philosophy here: Improv, Investing and the Art of Thinking Differently
What a "Solid B" Gets You
Kelly's review of my improv is that I'm not necessarily the funny one. I'm good at driving the information: I remember what's been said, bring it back, and move the story forward. A solid B, by general agreement. That's a fair description of a useful skill set in a deal, too. I won't pretend a ten-week class made me better at structuring them, but the overlap is hard to ignore.
Listening Is the Whole Job
In a scene, if you're not listening, you can't build on what your partner gave you. Negotiations work the same way. The detail someone mentions in the first meeting is usually what they care about most. Remembering it and bringing it back later shows you were paying attention, and that's where trust starts.
Nobody Wins Unless the Scene Works
I've sat across the table from people whose idea of winning was me losing. Improv is the opposite. If the scene dies, everybody on stage dies with it. The best partnerships I've been part of work the same way: align incentives, make your partner look good, and say "yes, and" more often than "no."
The World Is Only as Big as the Stage
What surprised me was how calm I was. My only goal was not to look amped up or nervous, and I wasn't. My mom's theory is that my regular life is more stressful than improv, so the stage feels easy by comparison. I don't fully buy that. Kelly's explanation is better: improv is a more controlled environment even though it isn't controlled at all. Clear parameters, trustworthy people around you, and only the scene in front of you. It was almost meditative. A good deal feels the same.
Fun Is the Point
I've always believed business should be creative. If it's not fun, what's the point? Kelly's best friend, Joey Parsons, starts her first improv class this fall, and she's terrified (she wrote about it in "Static Cling"). My advice is the same one I'd give anyone starting something that scares them: show up, listen, and let the scene happen.
