Does it really work?
To spark a professional pivot, one writer booked into improv classes – would their magic and mayhem provide the shake-up she needed?
THE GUINEA PIG
Liz Vaccariello, WH contributor
It was December, and I was caught in a mental rip tide. I was ready to leave my corporate job and determined to do something creative – but I was getting nowhere deciding what that could be. When I thought about my skills, the arrow kept pointing back to the very profession I was leaving. ‘When you want to open your mind to something new,’ a wise friend told me over drinks, ‘it helps to do something new.’
This is the story of how I agreed to go on an improv course. I knew improv was about playing noncompetitive games that teach you to be present, positive and open. Games as simple as word association and as performative as a three-line scene or poetry slam. Games in which the only goals are to maintain rhythm and to make your partner look good. I signed up for 12 weeks of sessions on Tuesday nights. This was time I couldn’t plan, prepare or practise for. I couldn’t hold meetings to brainstorm ideas for my manager’s approval.
I couldn’t make fun of myself before someone else had the chance to. As the first class approached, my exacting personality left me feeling… itchy. But while I was nervous, I felt ready to break myself open.
Days later, I’m standing in a circle of 10 people. Right now, we’re all strangers, but a few weeks from now, we’ll be friends. The game is Fast Five. ‘Five names for water brands,’ says my classmate, Abishek, looking directly into my eyes. That’s my cue. I punch my hand into the circle on each beat as I reel them off. It feels… awkward. But the moment has passed and it’s my turn to tee up another person. ‘Five Christmas gifts you’d return immediately.’
We’re all grinning, but in the debrief afterwards, we admit we found it difficult. I wanted to do well, to be funny and cool, and to please our instructor, Dana, with how hard I was trying. But I also felt stressed about coming up wi
