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Laura Bailey is a hilarious improviser, stand-up, sketch comedian and song bird who’s hawked her comedy wares from Toronto to Chicago to New York City and Chapel Hill, North Carolina. She hosts and produces femme phenom, Chicka Boom, with Jess Beaulieu. Catch Laura’s solo improvised musical, Unplanned Melody on Saturday, April 13, 10 pm at The Black Swan.

Photo © Jeff Higgins

Photo © Jeff Higgins

At some point in your “career” as an improviser, you will probably be called upon to participate in a “jam,” also widely known as a “complete and utter clusterfuck.”

Both novice and expert improvisers are routinely thrown off by The Jam. I cannot think of one improv class I have taken where, after learning a technique, some frustrated classmate has not lamented to our instructor, “But how could I possibly do this in a JAM!??” Sadly, I have never heard a great answer.

As with all improv, there is no magic formula for success in The Jam. Certainly familiarity with your fellow jammers helps a lot, but in its absence hopefully these tips will help you to at least enjoy yourself a little/not be an asshole.

1. Relax. Don’t take anything personally. As Todd Stashwick would say, “Improv is all toilet paper.” Should your precious offers be ignored, in reality there is nothing you could possibly do that will even verge on being important enough to be angry about. No one is trying to ruin the scene; believe that everyone who is improvising is doing their best the whole time.

2. Lower your expectations. A Jam doesn’t always have to suck, but OH BOY are there a lot of things working against it. Linda decided to play through her shingles and can’t actually move. Claudio has elected to be a coffee table in every scene for some profound reason that no one gets. Susan won the lottery spot to play with the Second City Main Stage cast, and she is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

My point is, the Jam is going to be as good as it’s going to be because not everyone is on the same page, and that is largely beyond your control. Don’t beat yourself up about it.

3. No touchy-touchy. For the young, white, sexually-repressed improv majority, a hand on the shoulder is just fine, thank you very much. If you don’t know your fellow Jammers that well, do not attempt kissing, hitting, lifting, licking, pushing, pulling, or any other such physical behaviour on your scene partner’s body.

Don’t yell in his face or spit on him. And for all you handsy motherfuckers, this is not “da club,” it’s an improv scene.

People improvising are vulnerable because they are trying to go along with what’s happening. Be respectful and don’t touch a stranger on stage in a way you wouldn’t touch them offstage consensually.

4. Be Positive. When it comes to The Jam, I recommend taking “Yes, And” literally. Getting into an argument with someone you don’t know is almost certain death for your scene. Not only are you trying to improvise with someone, you are also actually making a real first impression on another human being.

When speaking to an acquaintance, you wouldn’t open with, “Hey fuckface, where’s my dinner?” Despite this being a classic improv initiation, making this sort of offer right off the bat to a stranger has a similar effect to saying the real thing. Especially rude is throwing in “subtle” improv notes like “You’re not listening to me.”

An easy way to avoid making your fellow Jammer hate you is to simply back up whatever she says 100%. Just tell her why her ideas are the best thing that ever happened to Cat Island, meow. Why not? The people you play with will love it, and so will the audience.

5. Fill in the Gaps. As the Jam gets rolling, you should notice what’s happening and what’s not. Goofballs are doing ridiculous characters with bad accents. Newbs are not initiating. Every scene has eight people coming out off the top. If nothing else, just do what is needed.

Cartoon characters need a voice of reason. Point at a Newb on the back wall and just start talking to them. Or hang back, pick one person in the scene you want to riff on, and tag out the other seven people soon. And for God’s sake, EDIT. This isn’t to say you can’t go big and get your ideas out there. As Susan Messing says, “If you’re not having fun, you’re the asshole.” Just allow your ideas be motivated by what the set needs. You’ll end up challenging yourself in new ways by playing roles you don’t normally play.

6. Have ideas and set up clear games. There’s a point of contention in improv as to whether or not one should initiate a scene with a premise in mind, or develop a game organically with your scene partner.

Whatever your preference, in The Jam nobody knows what anyone thinks and all bets are off. No one has the faintest idea what to expect from anyone else. So, when you let your fellow Jammers know what to do, it’s as if you threw a life jacket to a drowning school bus.

You will never see agreement happen faster and with more gusto than when someone initiates a “Boardroom Idiots” scene in a jam. They know they’re being directed, and they are all just glad to have been thrown a frickin’ bone.

Was there a monologue or opening to the set? Draw any scene ideas you can and initiate them shamelessly. In a jam, it’s hugely supportive to have people who act like they know what the fuck they’re doing and actually including other people at the same time!

7. Don’t be a hero. Don’t go into the Jam thinking you need to do your best work. Most likely you will be outnumbered there. There will be some jams that where you need to do a lot (see: Newb Jam), there will be some where you need to do very little (see: Goofball Jam).

It’s easy to think of your time in these scenarios as “carrying the whole show” or “not getting a word in edgewise.” Think of it more as, different jams will need different things, and you can choose to do those things or not. Personally, I find it way easier to do what is obviously needed than to think of something else.

Somewhere in our pasts, either on stage or in the audience, we have all been horribly, irreparably scarred by The Jam. It is a rite of passage no improviser will turn down – especially if it means you can play with your heroes – yet it is also thought of disdainfully as the place where good improv goes to die.

Competing styles seem irreconcilable. Robot Ninja Pirates bleep-bloop through your pretend fairy rose garden that tells the future like it’s nothing. And yet, some Jams still manage to have moments of brilliance.

As clichéd as it sounds, all you can do is try your best and have fun. Wait a minute, what if you did that all the time…?

Photo © Dan Epstein

Photo © Dan Epstein

“Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It’s self-conscious, and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can’t try to do things. You simply must do things.” – Ray Bradbury

Karora

Rodin’s The Thinker is a powerful piece of art. But notice the posture: it’s downward, internal, closed off.

That’s great for contemplating quantum physics or dissecting Pearl Jam lyrics, but terrible for improv.

If you find yourself staring at the floor, or thinking about a scene, you’re in your head. So how do you snap out of it?

Start by breathing to get you back in touch with your body.

Jet Eveleth teaches an exercise that uses breath to reconnect you with your body and your character. Try it the next time you’re stuck on stage.

Inhale deeply and as you exhale, make a sound to accompany the breath. It could be “Aaaaaaaaaaah” or “Hhhhhuuuuuuuh” or “Whooooooooo” or whatever comes out spontaneously.

Use that breath and that sound to organically create your character’s response. For instance:

“Hhhhhhhhhhhow did you know it was my birthday?”  (delight)

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa thousand tulips? You ordered a thousand tulips for our wedding?!” (shock/surprise/fear)

“Ffffffffffffffffffffuck, I burned the risotto!” (anger)

By feeling your response, you’ll avoid overthinking.

 

“I pretended to be somebody I wanted to be until finally I became that person. Or he became me.” – Cary Grant

This TED Talk is empowering, not just for improvisers, but for every…uh…body.

You’ve probably noticed when you take on a physicality that’s different than your normal one, your character takes on a life of its own.

I’ve propped one leg on a chair, resting my elbow on my thigh, and suddenly become Dick Cheney, a pirate, or a motivational speaker. What’s more, my character’s words flowed effortlessly.

It turns out there’s a scientific link between physicality and personality, as Amy Cuddy explains. You can even use it to boost your confidence in as little as two minutes (good to know if you’re nervous before a performance).

Click here or below to watch this fascinating talk. Thanks to Mike Riverso for sharing.

“Know thyself.” – Ancient Greek aphorism

“Yeah, but more importantly, be thyself.” – People and Chairs

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A few years ago I met a woman I’ll call Jane, who wanted to get into advertising. She did stand-up and improv, and we chatted about the comedy scene for a while.

I reviewed her portfolio and made some suggestions. When we said goodbye, she handed me a business card that read: Jane Doe – “That Funny Girl.”

I stopped.

“Jane,” I said, “your card says ‘That funny girl.’ But we’ve just talked for almost an hour and the whole time you were very reserved, even when you were talking about comedy. Not only that, but there’s nothing funny in your book.”

(Full disclosure: She was later hired by a big agency, so what do I know?)

The point is, I have no doubt that she was funny. But for whatever reason, she wasn’t showing it. By trying to act “professional,” she missed an opportunity to connect.

Compare that with the business card above. When I saw it I smiled. It’s exactly the kind of business card you’d expect Steve Martin to have.

In his memoir, Born Standing Up, Martin recalls his first stand-up gig. Even though it was written 40-some years ago, the material is as fresh and as Steve Martin-ish as anything from 2013.

“Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant” is one of the greatest lines ever written, in my humble opinion. Not only that, but I can’t imagine any other comedian writing it.

Steve Martin knows who he is, and he’s made a career out of being different. Out of being himself.

“Walk into a room like you belong there.” – Ed McMahon

In stressful situations like auditions or interviews, it’s easy to clam up and let fear take over. Self-doubt creeps in and you start to think, “How can I impress this person?” At that moment, you won’t impress anyone – guaranteed.

The most successful people I know treat these situations just like any other. They bring their authentic self, and let go of preconceived expectations about possible outcomes. If someone doesn’t like them, that’s OK, because they’ll connect with someone who does want what they have to offer.

Recently I wrote about how to write a kickass performer bio. The same principle applies to everything else.

Whether you’re an actor, writer, producer, shoe salesman, veterinarian, or quantity surveyor, you were put here to bring your own gifts to the world, in a way that only you can.

We each have our own unique inventory to draw on, and it’s a helluva lot easier than inventing.

Inventing feels like work because it is.

You don’t need to invent anything.

Not your characters. Not your scene. Least of all yourself.

When you bring your own knowledge and experience to the stage, your job, and your daily life, you share something valuable with the rest of us. What’s more, it’s effortless.

TJ and Dave do it every show. It can be something profound, like TJ quoting “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” or it can be as silly as calling a dish a “ramekin of mayonnaise.”

Those little snippets of their personal inventory are part of what makes Messrs Jagodowski and Pasquesi such a joy to watch.

Grab a pen (or just use a mind pen) and make a list of your ten favourite people: comedians, authors, musicians, friends or family members. Then ask yourself if they’d be better if only they were more like someone else.

My own list includes Stephen Colbert, John Lennon, Neil Gaiman, Julia Cameron, Stanley Kubrick, and my husband Cameron. Every one of them faced rejection at some point. Every one of them was labelled an oddball or an outsider. And every one of them is (or was) true to themselves, to their own vision of the world.

The next time you find yourself doubting your abilities, on stage or off, remember that no one else can do what you can, the way you can. As another true original said:

“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” – Oscar Wilde

So you have to write a bio for your festival submission / facebook page / fringe show. Now what?

Most performers’ bios are straight, earnest write-ups with a laundry list of every show they’ve ever done.

Bo-ring.

Unless you work for Second City, where bios tend to read like a playbill from Smallville High (“Jimmy Jones is thrilled to be in his third Mainstage revue…“), this is a chance to let your comedic skills shine.

A snappy, well-written profile will make you stand out, so spend a few minutes and make it fun.

Below are three great examples. The first is a solo bio for the improvised show, Throne of Games:

Kevin Whalen “Petyr Baelish”

Kevin Whalen is delighted to reprise his role as “Lord Baelish” in Throne of Games. When not playing a self-centered, two-faced pimp, Kevin can be found eating nachos. During pre and post nacho eating, Kevin is probably teaching comedy at the The Second City Training Centre or perhaps performing sketch with The Second City Touring Company. If none of the above applies, you might find him improvising with the comedy troupe S&P or at home deciding which plaid shirt accurately reflects his mood today.

Amazing!

It starts off like a typical bio, then takes a left turn into funny. The self-deprecating tone is a refreshing change from the usual platitudes, and gives us an insight into Kevin’s personality.

Now let’s look at a team bio:

Standards & Practices (Cameron Algie, Isaac Kessler and Kevin Whalen)

BIG BANG. Three gods of improv explode onto the stage and create a new world. A world without rules, limitations or laughterlessness.

Using their training from Annoyance, UCB, iO, ITC, Second City and Bad Dog, they organically follow the ideas using extreme characters, heart-wrenching emotional commitment, and wild physicality until there’s order to the chaos. And a new world is born: Awesomeland.

Photo © Adrianne Gagnon

Photo © Adrianne Gagnon

In a few short sentences, Standards & Practices have drawn us a vivid picture of who they are. And hey, there’s Kevin Whalen again. (What can we say? Dude’s funny.)

For a team bio, you probably don’t need to go into a ton of detail; just give the reader a taste of what you’re all about.

Achtung, baby: S&P’s over-the-top bravado is balanced with brevity. Plus, they consistently deliver the goods. Unless you can do the same, don’t overpromise with a blurb that’s more hubris than humorous.

Now maybe you’re thinking, “That’s all great, but I need to present myself in a professional manner. What if some big talent agent or other Really Important Person reads it?”

As someone who writes copy for a living, I can tell you that a bio is basically an ad for yourself. And we all know what happens to boring ads.

I don’t care who you’re trying to impress. Which bio do you think they’ll remember: the one that listed every show you’ve done since you were 12, or the pithy paragraph that made them laugh?

Don’t be boring.

Now let’s look at that rarest of things, a successful working comedian’s bio:

Anthony Atamanuik 

Anthony Atamnuik has been writing, performing, and producing comedy for over ten years. In 1997 he moved to Los Angeles after graduating with a BS in Film Theory from Emerson College. While living in LA Anthony worked for Jim Henson Interactive, Mr. Show, and sadly, Suzanne Somers.

He moved to New York in 2000 and started training and performing at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in 2002. Anthony has trained with Matt Walsh, Matt Besser, Owen Burke, Billy Merritt, Kevin Mullaney, Seth Morris and others.

He performed with various Harold Teams including Creep, and performed with the acclaimed Instant Cinema.

Anthony is currently performing with critically acclaimed and award-winning weekend team Death by Roo Roo on Saturday nights. He is also a regular performer in ASSSSCAT 3000 on Sunday night. Anthony also performs his one-man variety show, The Tony and Johnny Show, Tuesday nights at 9:30 pm, and every Wednesday he makes move magic with Neil W. Casey in the Two Man Movie.

He has played various roles in Adult Swim’s Fat Guy Stuck In Internet. He has also appeared on Late Night With Conan O’Brien, The Caroline Rhea Show, The Reggie Watts Live At Central Park Comedy Central Special, and in a very special DVD extra on Todd Barry’s Comedy Central special. For the last 7 seasons, Anthony can be seen on NBC’s 30 Rock, playing a very expressive staff writer who doesn’t speak.

Photo © Anthony Atamanuik

Photo © Anthony Atamanuik

Notice how all of these examples have something in the opening and closing that elicits a smile. Even when there’s a lot of info, as in this case, you want to reward the reader for doing you the courtesy of reading it.

Lastly, if you choose to write in the third person, try to avoid coming off as a douchebag. Even though his work is “acclaimed” and “award-winning,” Atamanuik manages to come across as confident yet humble.

For more inspiration, check out marketing guru Seth Godin’s post on why you don’t need a resume. After reading it, I ditched mine – and landed a great job without ever being asked for one. To read the post, click here.

John Hodgman spoke on Sirius Xm recently about how Stephen Colbert overcame embarrassment by doing embarrassing things in public, until it no longer bothered him.

This makes perfect sense.

Whether he’s bobsledding in skintight Spandex, or telling George Bush to his face what a douche he is, Colbert’s commitment to character is unflinching.

But for some people, fear of embarrassment can be debilitating.

Katagelophobia, Anyone?

Katagelophobia is the fear of embarrassment, ridicule, or (ironically for comedians) of being laughed at.

I’ve blogged before about Cameron’s anxiety-ridden past. For years he suffered from daily panic attacks, cold sweats, vomiting, eczema, coughing, diarrhea…you name it. Finally in desperation, we went to a shrink.

The therapist, it turned out, had problems of his own. But he said two things that completely changed Cameron’s life – and mine, too.

First, he suggested Cameron take up improv. And second, he said that most anxiety comes from a fear of embarrassment.

We left the therapist after only a few sessions, but Cameron enrolled at Second City. And he did something else that helped him, in improv and in life: he started doing “embarrassing” things, like purposely tripping and stumbling in front of strangers.

At first he would blush and get cold sweats. But he kept on doing it, day after day, until he actually looked for excuses to do silly things in public.

Today he’s so happy, calm and confident that people who didn’t know the “old” Cameron are flabbergasted to learn he wasn’t born fearless.

Disapproval Starts With You

Fear of embarrassment often comes from wanting approval. (“I hope I don’t fuck up on stage tonight. I’ll never be able to show my face again!”)

I’ve seen wanting approval cripple a lot of funny people, especially at festivals, where they put extra pressure on themselves to be brilliant.

Worrying about what your audience thinks is a surefire way to get in your head. When you worry, you judge, and it’s a fast trip from there to Suckville.

Richard Burton used to stand backstage before a performance and whisper, “Fuck you! Fuck you!” to the audience. If you can let go on needing approval, you’ll have a much better show. And a helluva lot more fun.

Some people say anxiety before a performance is good, even necessary. I say bullshit. I’ve done plenty of crappy shows where I was nervous beforehand, and just as many good ones where I wasn’t.

It’s natural for some adrenaline to kick in before going on stage, but if having your girlfriend in the audience makes you jittery, try some of these exercises.

Don’t Take Yourself So Seriously

One of my favourite sketches of all time is the Ministry of Silly Walks. It’s so quintessentially British. And yet as John Cleese said, “The aim of any good English gentleman is to get safely to his grave without ever having been embarrassed.”

To err is human. And life’s too short to worry what other people think. Chances are, they’re busy worrying what you think of them.

So if anxiety about making the wrong move, or even just looking stupid in public is holding you back, try looking stupid on purpose. It works.

To hear Hodgman talk about Colbert, click here.

Photo © Laura Dickinson Turner / Second City

Photo © Laura Dickinson Turner / Second City

(Colbert kissing David Razowsky while Steve Carell watches at Second City’s 50th anniversary.)

Jimmy Carrane gets it right in his latest blog post, “There’s No Right Way To Improvise.” (And we’re chuffed to get a mention.)

If you’re still worried about the “right” way to improvise, you need to hear this. Click here or on the image below to read it.

Photo © Jimmy Carrane

Photo © Jimmy Carrane

“Who you hang out with determines what you dream about and what you collide with. 

And the collisions and dreams lead to your changes.

And the changes are what you become.

Change the outcome by changing your circle.” – Seth Godin

Photo © Joseph Ste. Marie

Photo © Joseph Ste. Marie

Improv is all about relationships – on stage and off.

When you find people you really click with, pay attention; those connections are comedy gold.

Long-running teams like Death By Roo Roo, The Sunday Service, and Mantown (to name a few) are successful in part because their members genuinely like and respect each other.

So if you find your improv has hit a rut, ask yourself, “Who do (or would) I love to perform with?”

Then go do it.

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