If you’re reading this, I have to assume you’re dealing with or have dealt with writer’s block. It sucks.
You sit down, and the desire to write is strong. You open your WIP or a blank page and …
“Hell no,” your brain says. “Today, we shall worry about how much plastic might be inside me and whether the recurring headaches are cancer. Oh, and your to-do list is piling up, but I don’t plan to let you sleep tonight, so you won’t have the energy to tackle anything tomorrow either.”
Listening to my brain.
I’ve been there, and I know I’ll be there again. This is basically my ongoing internal dialog, no matter what. I’ve made peace with it. Kind of. Or not at all, but whatever.
“Heather, I don’t have all day! What’s the damned tip?”
IMPROV!
WAIT!!!! Don’t leave, hear me out!
I’ve told enough people this tip for creative blocks to know that the first reaction is, “No fucking way am I doing improv.” But for the people I’ve convinced to put their worries aside and give it a go, every single one has come back to thank me.
“I was so nervous, but once I watched some others and started laughing, I was hooked.”
“It was so much fun to be in a safe space where I could be silly without being judged.”
“I loved that they said the mistakes were what we celebrated. The mistakes were the funniest parts!”
Improv has been in the news lately, with articles highlighting its benefits, such as Alan Alda’s Solution to Eroding Trust in Science: More Improv, which discusses how scientists are using improv to help them connect with and become more trusted by people.
Marketing professionals are using the first rule of improv, Yes, And, to improve their industry and support better decision-making.
I started taking improv classes a year and a half ago, and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I found a community that welcomed me and said, “Come, laugh and play with us, and don’t worry about your possible plastic brain for a few hours.”
I now teach improv to older adults. It’s magical to see them discover the wonders of improv. They come in with aches and pains, their own worries, fears, and hesitancy. But they also have hope. And it’s that hope for relief from all of life, for connection, and for something that ignites their brains and hearts that gets them up and trying things they once said they could never do.
Me, reacting to a goat statue in an improv scene. So many chins!
It’s not dramatic acting. It’s not graded. It IS joyful and challenging in all the right ways.
If you’re on the fence, try going to a show first to experience the laughter. Then, look up local improv classes or jams. Drop into a jam to see what it’s all about.
You might have fun, and there’s one thing writer’s block doesn’t like: the fun side of the brain taking over.
If you give it a try, I’d love to hear about your experience.