When you start doing improvisation, your teacher will probably tell you to be obvious. Don’t think too hard, say the first thing that comes into your mind. See a knife and fork? Add a spoon! Scene starts with ‘I love you, dad’? Say ‘I love you too, son’. Why work? Just say the first thing! We don’t ask you to do it for speed (though it often speeds things up), but for uncritical flow. Often, people are surprised by the full-throated laughs that come from just saying what you see.

The aim of this invitation to ‘be obvious’ is to unlearn the squint-eye critical attention that we are taught is the indicator of intelligence. Instead, we encourage improvisers to simply see what happens. In just doing, the analytical parts of the brain are calmed, and you can find immersive flow. You are one with the task and your teammates; time is elastic, and ideas seem to come from outside you. Creativity in this state may feel less like something that you do and more like something that happens to you. When people say ‘I don’t know why I did that’, they mean it. 

Then, later, something awful happens. Someone like me tries to teach you something. We set up an exercise and, right in the middle of it, we ask you to change what you did. Let’s go back one line (we might say), and rather than being angry, can you be surprised? Can you replace the word ‘nice’ with the word ‘succulent’? Don’t leave yet, walk to the door, and turn back. It’s not what was obvious or inevitable to you, it’s imposed from the outside, artificial. It may involve analytical judgement on the choices you have made. It’s called side-coaching, and it can be a shock.

To some people, this can feel like bait and switch. And I understand why. You are lured into this improv thing because, unlike many other areas of life, you can quiet your brain and just do. And now here we are asking you to think about your choices. Was all that delicious freedom an illusion? Do I have to do what I’m told here as well?

In teaching something as ill-defined and subjective as improvisation, the goalposts can keep changing. There are many skills to learn, and you can’t do it all at once. Asking for one thing and critiquing another, the unscrupulous (or incompetent) teacher can shift focus constantly in order to keep the student feeling one step behind. Concentrating on what isn’t there yet to sell the next class is a good business model. Worse is the teacher who charges you for the privilege of telling you what they would have done in your scene. It happens. Believe me, I’ve seen it.

But good sidecoaching is not that. Good sidecoaching is an opportunity to jump out of your normal patterns and just see what else there is. It’s an opportunity to not be yourself for a second. Being obvious is not just for beginners. The delight of flow will always be a part of the experience and delight of improvisation, but as you get more proficient and ambitious, the subtlety and range of your obviousness will broaden. And being coached away from your instinctive reaction can help get you there. Before, you had one option; now you have three. 

A lot of what I am doing when I teach is offering options. I am not saying ‘don’t do this’ or ‘never do that’ (unless it’s necessary). Rather, I am saying ‘try this’ or ‘you could do it like this’. There are bad moves in improv, sure. But that doesn’t mean there is only one good one. And sometimes not doing what you want can help you find the full range. 

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No Stupid Questions is a series of blogs answering common questions we are asked in improv classes. Feel free to send suggestions to jules@andalsoimprov.com.