In conversation with an improv master

Next week is my 1-year anniversary of writing this newsletter! AHHHH! I love any excuse to celebrate, so I’m throwing a newsletter party (like a book party but for a different kind of insufferable person). Not sure where it will be yet, but if you’re in New York and free Friday the 23rd, please RSVP!

My Mondays just got a lot cozier: I survived my Improv 101 class show this weekend, which means I’ve graduated and have my Mondays back for writing to all of you. The procrastinator side of me is giggling and kicking her feet.

I’ve written small bits about this improv class before, including this coming out post where I revealed myself to be an improviser-in-training. I took 8 classes at Upright Citizens Brigade, culminating in Sunday’s class show. I’ve received many questions from friends and mom alike, so I’m going to interview myself.

So what’s the format of these classes?

They have a pretty big schedule, but my classes were Mondays from 7–10 p.m. in a studio space they rent in SoHo. Three hours sounds really long, but it goes by super quickly. We start with a bunch of warm-ups and games that get us in the zone of whatever we’re about to learn that week before eventually doing scenes and getting feedback (with a bathroom break somewhere in there. I never memorized the bathroom code until now. If you ever need a bathroom in SoHo, 588 Broadway Street, 2nd Floor, ladies room passcode I think is 002).

You seemed really excited after your first and second classes. Did that excitement continue?

Eh! In some ways, yes, but I just kept feeling really in my head. I would dread going to class and usually leave with a lot of energy. I remember going to my friend Ria’s right after a few times and just word vomiting at her while crushing a White Claw.

I’m really lucky to have the superpower of looking less nervous than I feel, at least in this situation. But whenever a scene wouldn’t go my way in the first minute, I’d feel stupid and dumb. My teacher told me early on that he wanted to see me play characters other than those that closely resemble me, which is something I’ve never been able to do even as a high school theater leech. I feel in the moment like I’m transforming, but I guess what’s happening inside doesn’t match the outside. Whenever things feel like they’re going wrong, it almost feels like a personal indictment since I’m acting a lot like myself.

Yikes, that sounds like quite the prison of your own making. Did you get out of it?

More than it felt like I would, yes! And I really have to credit my classmates. I really thought I would hate multiple people in my class because I’m paying money to take a comedy class in New York; however, I liked everyone from start to finish. It was an interesting mix of people with and without acting and/or comedy experience.

I was initially quite intimidated by the working actors (there were multiple!) and comedy peeps, but none of them were like the cunty theater people I know and hate. Actually, they made me feel supported and more willing to take risks in scenes because I knew they could catch me if I fell. And if they didn’t, well that’s showbiz, baby.

My class trajectory went as follows: Wow, I’m so excited! > Oh, this is hard > Oh, I’m stupid > Am I stupid? > It actually doesn’t matter at all! > Yay!

The class camaraderie really got me through it, although I wish we had more structured time in class to get to know each other. This is the only time I’ll ever say this about anything — I wish we did more ice breakers. I’m happy to have gotten to know people in the cracks surrounding and slightly outside of the class, though. I was lucky that we all had immediate chemistry and liveliness.

How does one prep for an improv show?

UCB teaches a heavily structured style of improv with a certain formula for success. We learn the format in parts, from how to start a scene to how to interrupt it. We also sprinkle personal stories throughout the show that inspire our scenes. We started doing the exact show format for the last two classes.

Obviously, you can’t prep for whatever suggestions you’ll get, but you’ll have enough trials to either not fail or fail in a funny way. Getting all of these reps in made me feel a lot more comfortable, even if I didn’t always feel confident. Plus, the whole show would be about 35 minutes.

You’re taking too long to get to the good stuff. Walk me through the show.

I love a walk me through question. You’ll have to start by sitting with me on the L train. I somehow got enough sleep the night before, and the class show was at the prime time of 1 p.m. on a Sunday. Despite this time designed for no one to come, I invited a bunch of my friends and wanted to have a big audience to congratulate me if I slayed and support me if I sucked.

I was nervously tapping my feet on the train, and each stop felt so far away. I sighed after feeling like an eternity passed and I was only at Graham Avenue. Music sounded even better than it usually does. I mostly listened to reggaeton to pump me up, but I also bopped to “Don’t Think I’m Not” by Kandi, who I only knew from being a Real Housewife of Atlanta and not from her legitimate music career. I did relish in this adrenaline, though. I used to chase a lot of deadlines and performances in my past lives as a journalist and theater/choir person (two ways to perform), but I’ve been in a very intentionally less stressful stage of life. It’s nice to get reminders of that feeling in a low-stakes environment.

The L goes from Bedford to Union Square without stopping and screws up my commute. I power walk from Union to the class stage on 2nd and 14th, which ends up being a building that looks condemned on the outside. I am sweating everywhere.

We’re supposed to meet at 12:30 so we have time to warm up. My class started with 14 people and ended with 7, and I was happy to see all 7 survivors show up. My favorite warm-up we did was one where we were supposed to sing songs that were all linked together, but we ended up just screaming multiple minutes of a select few (“L.O.V.E.,” “Bad Romance,” “Bleeding Love”) and jumping around. My nerves started to dissipate because I knew I was going to have fun with my new friends no matter what.

Since there’s no real backstage, we all hid in the small spaces between the wall and the curtains for the few minutes before the show. I had my little section all to myself. I have a little poem I say to myself whenever I feel grateful for the world around me, so I gave it a little whisper before it was time to step out.

The lights were in my eyes, and I couldn’t see most of the audience, but I saw a few of my peeps up front and felt grateful that they braved the slight rain and screwed L train to see me. The show starts with a suggestion from the crowd (this one was drawbridge, which I kind of hated), then one person goes up and does a monologue about the word.

I feel so uncomfortable in improv, but the monologuing is my bread and butter. I’d probably be pretty good at stand up, but I already scratch that itch here and feel like I’d get crazy if I brought that out into the world. I don’t need a Joker arc to start. At least I can use that chance to play to my strengths in this specific improv format. I usually start the first monologue of the show, and this time was no different than most of our practices.

Drawbridges made me think of Sea Isle City, a Pittsburgher’s favorite Jersey Shore location. I talked about how odd it is to have majority coastal elite friends who grew up with beaches in their backyard when I had to look forward to a week every year I’d go to the same place (Stone Harbor, which is genuinely whiter than a Hawk Tuah fan) that would take 8 hours to get to and from. I felt like I sounded a little nervous but at least I was getting it done. This was the one gift I was confident in giving my class for the show.

We then got to watch everyone do their thing. Matt volleys between voices. Kayla builds worlds. Tomomi gets pouty. Mike commands a space. Mohammad dryly interjects. Adam is the voice of reason. We all know how to give each other space. Maybe this is why my classmates aren’t annoying, because we all let each other shine instead of competing for a spotlight.

UCB’s format usually has what I would call a top and a bottom in every scene, where one person comes out and starts while a second person assists them. The rest of us on the back line pop out for a moment whenever necessary (this is my favorite thing to do). My goal was to top once, but I was just a bottom.

Before I knew it, it was over and everyone was clapping. Thank fuck. I felt so relieved to be done but was still riding that adrenaline. Our teacher gave us notes after and seemed very impressed with how we were “for a 101 class,” and I hope that assessment was earnest!

We journeyed across the street to a bar/restaurant with a happy hour and lots of space. I really accumulated a gaggle, and they actually seemed to like the show and wished it was longer. They may be great liars, but they’re definitely great friends. It was nice to see some of them mix in with my classmates.

It’s a lovey bunch. I hope we get to see each other again soon, but I hugged all of them tight just in case I wouldn’t.

Did you learn anything?

Yeah! Improv is more of a science than I thought it was. But I didn’t really come to learn about improv, I came to learn to let go. I think I got pretty close to that by the end because I cared less and less about the outcome and started to have more fun. That’s when I felt like I was really putting enough work in, when I didn’t need to work as much to be proud of myself. It’s nice to try transforming and take risks.

As I suspected going in, I really benefit from having a routine, a new activity, and new people meet. I definitely got what I wanted out of it, but I probably could have gotten a lot more. UCB has tons of free programming for students, and I never tapped into that because I wasn’t in the mood.

Do you think you’ll do more comedy?

I’m not sure! I would like to. This was fun. I feel like I’ll do a standup open mic once or twice just to get it out of my system. I’d love to do more improv, but I need a lot of hand holding. I’m considering taking another class, but maybe at a different place. The comedy world is super small, and maybe I’ll peer pressure more of my friends into taking classes so we can all make a group.

Would you recommend taking classes at UCB?

I would if you’re really serious about improv and comedy. I liked the class, but it was around $500 and felt like I was spending more money on the name than the experience. My teachers were great, but UCB itself is pretty disorganized. I don’t think I’d take another class there.

Most of my problems started a little before our class started, when we were told that everything was actually being pushed back two weeks. Plus, the week after the first class was the week of July 4, so we didn’t have class. This was in the original calendar, but we never got a reminder and some people showed up. Weird blue balls to get after a fun first class, too. These scheduling snafus caused a lot of people to miss classes and/or drop eventually. The class started with 14 people and ended with 7. Our own teacher missed 3 classes (of 8!) and we had a sub with a very different approach. Both nice but very different. Our TA was nice, though.

My friend Maddie laughed at me for saying this, but I find UCB’s style very restrictive. In the other improv shows I’ve seen, there’s a lot more freedom to play. I think it’s great for learning the fundamentals, but I just wanted to have fun.

I live very close to Brooklyn Comedy Collective, but I wanted to take classes in a different neighborhood so I could meet different kinds of people. I was the only Bushwick gentrifier loser in my class instead of going to BCC, which is teeming with people just like me. UCB’s high reputation in the comedy community (Amy Poehler founded it) yields people who are either more serious about comedy or people who just recognize the name (like me).

Would you recommend taking improv classes?

Totally. Improv attracts both introverts and extroverts and everyone can learn something. It’s more like a muscle that you can work out, some days you flex and feel good while other times just feel really hard. I think improv can show you a lot about how to go with the flow and hang onto fun details. I’m really happy I took this class even when I left some weeks feeling like an idiot. I’m happy I embraced the cringe and just had fun.

How are you going to fill this newfound free time?

Just like I did today, writing for hours after work while Meera plays video games. We did spend 30 minutes killing a bug, though. Meera thought she saw a spotted lantern fly on the bedroom window through the narrow shade slits after hearing a loud buzz. We realized there was also a huge fly. It turns out there was no spotted lantern fly, and we just saw rust from the window. Meera killed the fly with kitchen cleaning spray.