Whose Rules are They Anyway? Six Ways Improv and Writing Overlap

I am a high school English teacher and young adult author, but my former professional life is that of an actor/improviser. So I’ve been marching around for years saying, “You know, improv and creative writing really overlap. Like, the rules for improv all work for writing, too.” (In case you aren’t clear what improv is, performers often sum it up with a variation on, “We’re going to take suggestions from the audience and then give you a completely made up show!”)

The smart and talented Jorjeana Marie recently released a book about this improv/creative writing love fest aptly named Improv for Writers. This book is everything I’ve been saying, but more insightful. (And with less marching.) You should probably stop reading this blog post and go buy her book. 

But if you’re like, “It’s cool, Nicole. I have enough available short-term memory to read your post and then go check out Improv for Writers,” fantastic. Let’s rock and roll. 

Modern improv as we know it was independently developed in different parts of the US and England in the mid-twentieth century. Yes—two groups of people thought of the same idea across an ocean from one another at about the same time. Kind of like how in the late 1600s, Isaac Newton and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz independently developed calculus. 

Just like that. 

So since there isn’t one improv ring to rule them all, Second City’s rules are different from iO’s and Upright Citizen Brigade’s and Annoyance’s and HUGE’s and a thousand others. 

Some groups have three rules, others have twenty. For Unscripted, my debut young adult novel about improv and feminism, I wrote nine. 

For the purposes of this post, trotting out the ways I think the rules of improv are rules for writing, I’ve culled a few from Unscripted.  

1. Trust Yourself.

As an improviser, you have to trust you’ll think of something once you get out on stage. That your character is believable. That you are smart and honest and can contribute to a good scene.  

But as writers, we have to trust ourselves, too. Trust that giving time to our writing matters. That deleting this scene is okay, even though it’s beautiful—we have written good things before, and will write them again. That plowing through this draft will lead to a better one. 

2. Trust your scene partner.

In improv, if you don’t trust your partner, the scene falls apart. You take over, or they do, and it’s disaster city. 

In writing, I like to think of my characters as my scene partners. Sometimes they do and say things that surprise me. But the more I trust them, and don’t cram them into my preconceived notion of who they are, the better the story is.  

But your scene partners can also be your agent, editor, and critique partners. Trusting their feedback, that they have your best interests at heart, and that they will help you champion your work makes your writing easier and more pleasurable. 

3. Say yes. Even better, say yes and…

In improv, the fastest way to kill a scene is to say no. When you say yes, however, stories soar. For example, if your scene partner establishes you are in space suits on your way to colonize Mars, you agree—you say yes. Yes we are astronauts on our way to colonize Mars. 

If you say yes, and…perhaps adding that your sensors show unexpected extra cargo weight, you’re opening up the scene even more. Maybe your scene partner now announces they’re sorry, but they just couldn’t leave their mom behind. Or someone else comes on as a stowaway who is also your grade school nemesis. Or that extra weight is crates and crates of chocolate. Or bees. 

Our writing benefits from “yes and…” as well. Chase ideas down rabbit holes. Increase the stakes by yes, and-ing yourself. You can always pull back later, but when you’re brainstorming, turn that idea spigot all the way on to “yes, and…”  

4. Make statements and assumptions

In improv, when you ask a question in a scene, it puts all the onus on your partner. The question, “Where are we going?” means your partner has to make the decision. The statement, “I can’t believe you’re making me go to your dentist appointment with you,” means you’ve given your partner the gift of a jumping off point for the scene. 

In our writing, the same is true. Especially in scenes with dialogue, see what happens when your characters make statements instead of asking each other questions. I promise you it will move your scene forward and energize it with specificity. 

5. Make active choices.

In improv, we talk about establishing the “who, what, where.” Who is in the scene, what are they doing, and where are they? If you’re not intentional about establishing all three parts, improvisers often end up in a “floating head scene,” which is a lot of who, but no what or where. Two people arguing about their relationship is a floating head scene. But two people arguing about their relationship two hours before their wedding as they fold programs in the vestibule of the church is a much more interesting scene. 

In our writing, floating head scenes are also easy to fall back on. Giving characters something physical to do in a very specific place makes scenes sing.

6. Be in the moment.

In Unscripted, my protagonist Zelda’s mother asks her why she loves improv. Making up characters and scenes out of thin air in front of an audience? So scary. But Zelda says, “When I’m up there…everything falls away. I can’t think about the past or the future. Just what is.” Zelda’s mom nods. “It sounds like you love improv because it forces you to be in the true present…And here’s a little life secret: Living in the present? Not dwelling on the past or the future? That’s where true happiness is.” 

The same is true for our writing. Not worrying about the scope of the whole project, or if it will get you an agent, or how it might sell, or whether it will be better or worse than your last project, or that so-and-so’s book just landed on the Times best seller list and you’ve never gotten a starred review…

None of that serves our writing. All there is, is this moment. And these words. And this character. Right now. 

When you start looking at the rules for improv and apply them to your writing, it will be hard to avoid seeing how they can also be great rules for life. Especially that first one: trust yourself. So, go grab that notebook and purple pen and noise-cancelling headphones and get that astronaut’s bee-keeping mom onto Mars. 

—

Nicole Kronzer is the author of the young adult novels Unscripted and the forthcoming The Roof Over Our Heads. She is also a high school English teacher and former professional actor. She loves to knit and run (usually not at the same time), and has named all the plants in her classroom. She lives with her family in Minneapolis.

Insta and Twitter: @nicolekronzer

UNSCRIPTED

Seventeen-year-old Zelda Bailey-Cho has her future all planned out: improv camp, then Second City, and finally Saturday Night Live. She’s thrilled when she lands a spot on the coveted varsity team at a prestigious improv camp, which means she’ll get to perform for professional scouts—including her hero, Nina Knightley.

But even though she’s hardworking and talented, Zelda’s also the only girl on Varsity, so she’s the target for humiliation from her teammates. And her 20-year-old coach, Ben, is cruel to her at practice and way too nice to her when they’re alone. Zelda wants to fight back, but is sacrificing her best shot at her dream too heavy a price to pay? Equal parts funny and righteous, Unscripted is a moving debut novel that Printz Award winner Nina LaCour calls “a truly special book, written at exactly the right time.”

Buy link (Bookshop.org)

 

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Category: How To and Tips