improv

Today, I went to improv class. I was the first one there, before even the director. I had missed the first two classes of the session. When the director asked me how I was doing, I told him. He listened. When we did our red/yellow/green thing before beginning the actual class, which is when we let our fellow actors know if there is anything off-limits, be it physical work or subject matter, etc, I answered honestly. I should have been wearing my knee brace, but wasn’t, and I put a hard “no” on jokes about death, because I have had two significant losses in recent months. Since there were some new to me people, I also mentioned that I am visually impaired, and if my scene partner does something subtle with their expressions, I may not catch it. Other people had their own things to keep in mind, and we were able to proceed, knowing who can do what.

As suspected, improv class was exactly what I needed, and I told the director after class. The route there and back is very walkable with today’s weather, moderate UV exposure and temperature still August-y but bearable. When I got back home, I fell sound asleep. Storm head bonked me and wanted cuddles. I almost tapped this out on my FB page while I flopped with Storm in front of the fan, but I had to get up and feed her anyway, so to the keyboard I came.

I cannot thank everyone enough for the help with the Go Fund Me. We are over sixty percent of the way to our goal. Storm and I appreciate every single donation and share, and all of the prayers and good wishes. Before improv, I worked on something that always works for me, which is making lists. Nothing happens on the weekend, so this coming week, I get to coordinate with property management about the apartment. NY state property laws look like they may indeed be working in my favor, but don’t quote me yet. There is a displaced homemaker’s resource here in Albany, which I will be investigating, and there are a million things to do about transportation, liquidating one storage unit, taking over another, and, once I get the apartment stuff confirmed, beginning the roommate search.

There is yarn. Oh so much yarn. Stationery to de-stash as well, and then content to create with what I am keeping. I am learning many new things about all of the above, and beyond. Melva and I are now on the search for stock images for the Queen of Hearts cover artist. Finding couples where both man and woman are blond/e is harder than it looks, but we will find something and the artist will do something and we will love it. I am ever closer to launching A Heart Most Errant. That means Melva and I will need to figure out the next contemporary romance we want to write, and I need to get cracking on my second medieval, A Heart Most Ardent, which has both leads widowed when the book begins…which I had known long before Real Life Romance Hero passed.

The apartment looks very much in flux. I need to get the yarn all in one place, listings for the yarn and yarn accessories in one place. Rethink the current FB marketplace listings, because they are not hitting their targets as of yet. Maybe offering shipping is the magic key. There are donations to make, of clothing, books, other things. I am learning to ask for help, learning to say that I am learning new things. Tonight, because night is nearly here, is for dinner and Sims and maybe reading, because I haven’t read anything (other than forms and legal things and websites about forms and legal things) since Housemate passed. That has to change. Maybe just a few pages. That’s a good start.

So. How do we wind this all up? I am not sure about that, and that feels appropriate, so I will let that be that. How are you doing?

Bloggity blog time. Insomnia has been kicking my backside this week, though I had decent sleep by this afternoon, so I am going to blabber at you and fair warning, this will not be perfect.

Stock image, okay, that’s good. Anyway, hi. No plan for this entry, which fits, because that does jibe with my original plan, so maybe that works. Let’s go with that. A month or so ago, I had mentioned in an online group I’m in, where the topic was how we express ourselves. I mentioned that I am a novelist and blogger, and that if an acting opportunity were to drop in my lap, I would jump on it.

Well. As so often happened, I not long after that found a notice in our local subreddit, offering a free four week improv class for adults, very close to where I live. I did indeed jump on that. I hadn’t had formal improv training in decades, but the second I entered the room, it was like no time had passed. Here are the top three lessons from improv (which I love and one thousand percent intend to pursue more in the future) that I am applying to my fiction writing.

Yes, and…; this is the first rule of improv. Take what your partner offers and add to it. You had it in mind that your character would be an astronaut, and your partner offers that you are driving a tractor in a cornfield. Instead of refusing that, “yes, and” might look like finding a way to combine the two. Yes, they are driving a tractor in a cornfield, and they are also astronauts. What are the odds that they got assigned to the first corn farm on Mars?
Blurt: this goes directly against my innate urge to overthink, but it works. What the instructor suggested was that if we go for the funniest thing, we’re going to overpopulate our brain and then we can’t make any decisions, and the scene dies. Blurt out the first thing that comes to mind and trust that your partner will add to that. This definitely works when writing in collaboration, and it does work with solo writing as well. As Nora Roberts once said, “I can fix a bad page. I can’t fix a blank one.” I need to remember that. In the case of solo writing, for me, my characters can count as my partner in such cases.
The Next Obvious Thing: This one met with the most resistance from me, but I am warming to it. Reference the overthinking from above. The overpopulated brain bit does resonate. Case in point, let’s say we’re doing a scene. My partner starts with “Hi, Dr. Jones. Thanks for responding to my request for a consult. My patient is over here.” What’s the next obvious thing? Dr. Jones would want to see the patient, so, as Dr. Jones, I would go to where my partner indicated the patient is. If my partner doesn’t offer anything, like name a symptom or ask me to look at xyz, the next obvious thing might be to ask questions. With no offer given, I have no restrictions, so I can have some fun. Why is the patient upside down? So, they are complaining of ABC? This patient again? This is the third time this week. Anything. Refer to blurt, above. When there are too many options, what is the next most obvious one?

These are not the only lessons that improv has taught me, which I can bring over to fiction and blogging, but they are the — you guessed it– first most obvious ones. There are others, which I may go into later: celebrate failure, make your partner look good, be observant. Most importantly of all, there is this: when you take the stage, you have everything you need to complete the scene. I may need to make a sign for that one. What do you think?

Typing With Wet Nails

for the love of romance

Embracing Challenges: Lessons from Improv and Life

How Improv Techniques Enhance Fiction Writing