Improv: Cutting Through the Fog?

I left off last time by citing Keith Sawyer’s contention that improvisation provides a better model for describing everyday interactions than does Erving Goffman’s script model. On the face of it, improv would seem to be the Daily Improviser’s ideal entrée to the “nothing between” state of mastery which I’ve described at length in this blog.

After all, isn’t that what improv is? Creating something out of whole cloth - something that had never previously existed - based on being fully in the now and tapping a mainline to direct experiencing of the current reality?

Actually, Sawyer’s observations cast a different light on the role that improv plays in our communications. In the process, I think, he further brings into question the feasibility – and even the necessity - of attaining mastery as Zaffron and Logan define it.

Sawyer notes that we don’t literally perform word-for-word scripts in our daily interactions, as Goffman’s theories would seem to imply. Yet, he says, neither do we completely make up our communications anew every time. Based on his observations of a wide variety of situations, Sawyer says:

“Although our conversations are not fully scripted, there are two kinds of structures that we use in conversation. First of all, we often weave in catchphrases – little pieces of script that are building blocks in our improvisations. Second, some of our conversations are created within an overall framework – a common situation like the restaurant or the post office – where the flow of the conversation is predetermined.”

To illustrate his point, Sawyer describes his observations of some natural improvisers, i.e., children at play. Sawyer notes one instance in which some children began performing a Christmas scene that began with one child calling out the catchphrase, “Santa Claus is coming!” Rather than immediately enacting a standard “Christmas script,” though, the other children spontaneously overlaid a “horror movie” script on the proceedings by screaming and running to their (pretend) beds. The scene then continued with a procession of other holiday icons (the Easter Bunny, Halloween figures) who provoked mock terror rather than glee with their arrival.

So, even in improv, there is “stuff” between us and our environment – and much of it seems like good stuff, which we bring in from our past to convey meaning and to help make sense of the world in front of us right now. Rather than playing make-it-all-up as she encounters her world, the Daily improviser may well legitimately use “shorthand” phrases and words and concepts that help her communicate with others. And as with the children in Sawyer’s example who amalgamated multiple “scripts,” she can also combine elements from her experience – knowledge, conclusions, observations, theories – in new ways to deal with new situations.

In upcoming articles, I’ll continue to explore the topic of “direct experiencing of reality” and the stuff that can – and perhaps should – intervene between us and the things we’re dealing with. I’ll also explore what I perceive to be the limits of our reliance on existing structures such as catchphrases and loosely scripted frameworks.

The Daily Improviser Meets the Daily Script

"You can observe a lot by watching!" - Yogi Berra

Last time, I revealed my concerns about whether we can really attain a state of mastery, in the sense of being able to purge everything between us and the thing we’re dealing with. Can we attain this state – and must we in order to perform at our best?

An article I recently encountered – “The Improvisational Performance of Everyday Life,” by Dr. R. Keith Sawyer – may shed some light on these questions. Sawyer cites the work of the sociologist Erving Goffman, the author of the seminal book The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. In that book, Goffman contended that our daily interactions (or “performances”), far from being spontaneous and unstructured, are in fact highly constrained by the “scripts” we learn from our culture. Examples include the “Telephone Script” (the words we use to conduct a telephone conversation) and the “Restaurant Script” (the words we use to interact with a server).

Clearly, Goffman would say, we are not blank slates upon which meaning is newly composed with each interaction.

In addition, Sawyer cites other authorities who note that most of our daily interactions are highly indexical, that is, our communications indicate something that isn’t contained in the literal meaning of the words we use. Our conversation is loaded with catchphrases, clichés, inflections, and accents that convey something about our attitudes and expectations (shades of the subtexts I described in an earlier article). In a comment that calls to mind the above-cited Yogiism, Sawyer says:

“Some linguists estimate that as much as 90% of all of our spoken language is at least partially indexical – in other words, very little of what we say is context-free.”

So, according to Goffman and the other researchers, not only do we continually apply pre-set scripts in our interactions, but we convey meaning in other ways that prevent others from interpreting those scripts literally.

So much for mastery, then. All of these recycled scripts with subtextual meanings would seem to constitute heaps of stuff that interfere with our attaining that elusive “nothing between” state.

But Sawyer then proposes that a new paradigm, based on improv theory and practice, be overlaid on Goffman’s script theory. Does that mean that the Daily Improviser should literally become a performance improviser in everyday life, making up everything new on the spot based on exactly what’s in front of him at the moment?

[This is the point in the Blog Script where the author says: Stay tuned!]

The Improvisational Life and the Blank Slate

Awhile back, I dealt at length with Steve Zaffron and Dave Logan’s book The Three Laws of Performance. In describing the Second Law – “How a situation occurs arises in language” – I cited Zaffron and Logan’s observation that “whenever you say something, other communication is carried along with it.” This phenomenon, which they call “the unsaid but communicated,” can easily be ignored by individuals and organizations, who often are content to deal with only the surface level of issues. As a result, the real issues fester unacknowledged until they can no longer be overlooked – or effectively handled.

These “unsaid but communicated” messages are just one example of the barriers that prevent us from achieving mastery in our performance, a level which Zaffron and Logan define as “nothing between you and the thing you’re dealing with.” In order to attain mastery, Zaffron and Logan appear to say, you must root out any unspoken meaning, biases, assumptions, hidden agendas – anything – that would mediate between you and a direct, in-the-moment experiencing of the reality before you.

I hope I’m not reading too much - or too little - into Zaffron and Logan’s definition of mastery, a la Justice Hugo Black’s famous strict constructionist view of the Constitutional guarantee of free speech: “’No law’ means no law.” Yet, still … “nothing” means nothing! And I must admit that this plain meaning of their “mastery” definition has been gnawing at me. Can we truly achieve such a state – the direct apprehending of what’s in front of us, seeing things "as they are," uninfluenced by our prior received wisdom and conditioned ways of seeing the world? And is such a state even necessary in order to attain our highest levels of performance?

Must we treat every interaction as a blank slate, to be written upon anew each time? Is this what an improvisational approach to life would have us do?

I’ve already touched on this concern to some extent, and I plan to revisit it in upcoming articles. Stay tuned!

Yogi Berra and the Daily Improviser - Part Two

In a recent article, I focused on the baseball great Yogi Berra and described some of the bits of native wisdom (or “Yogiisms”) for which he is well known. I recently ran across a Yogiism that serves as succinct advice for those trying to develop their proficiency in a task.

While serving as a hitting instructor for the New York Mets in the late 60s, Yogi worked with Mets player Ron Swoboda, who was trying to alter his batting stance in emulation of his idol, the feared slugger Frank Robinson. Yogi gave this memorable piece of advice to Swoboda:

“If you can’t imitate him, don’t copy him.”

This may seem like another tautological Yogiism – but again, typically, Yogi was touching on an essential truth. I think Yogi was saying to Swoboda: Don’t try to be Frank Robinson! Robinson had rare natural talents and a style that worked for him. You can try to achieve his results, but do it by being Ron Swoboda. Or better yet, figure out your own talents and make the most of them.

I think this particular Yogiism relates to the individual-development philosophy of UCLA’s legendary basketball coach John Wooden - a philosophy I described in a previous article. Wooden advised his players not to benchmark themselves against anyone else but to first identify their own unique abilities and then strive to develop those abilities to the fullest. And, like Yogi, Wooden boiled down his thoughts to just a few concise words:

“Do your best – that is success!”

Bix Beiderbecke: Improvising in the Heartland

This past May I wrote about my “pilgrimage” to Bloomington, Indiana, to visit the site of the old Book Nook restaurant, where the famous Hoosier Hoagy Carmichael is reputed to have written the enduring standard “Stardust.”

Last week, as I was driving through Richmond, Indiana, on my way home for the holidays, I was reminded of Hoagy and his musical cohort Bix Beiderbecke. Hoagy and Bix – together and separately - created several historic recordings at the Gennett Records studio in Richmond. The list of popular music pioneers who recorded at Gennett in the 1920s is a long one (Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll Morton, Tommy Dorsey, et al.), earning Richmond the well-deserved title of “The Cradle of Recorded Jazz.”

Probably none of these names is as fabled as that of Beiderbecke – or, simply, Bix. The Iowa-born cornetist was known for a purity of tone and an innovative approach to soloing that helped mark the transition from Dixieland to modern jazz. His early death at age 28 also contributed to his legend as the embodiment of the convention-flouting, self-destructive musical prodigy.

As I reviewed some reference material on Bix, I ran across the following assessment from musician-critic Benny Green:

When a musician hears Bix's solo on 'Singing the Blues', he … knows … that this player is endowed with the rarest jazz gift of all, a sense of form which lends to an improvised performance a coherence which no amount of teaching can produce.

I think this is another example of the experience of mastery, in which a person, playing (literally) from an innate talent, is able to transcend the rudiments of a craft and attain the ineffable excellence of an art. The steps of the craft can be taught, but the sense of the art cannot.

What is the gift with which you are endowed? What sense of form – such as the arrangement of objects in space, or the arrangement of words in an interpersonal interaction - do you possess? What results do you create that seem to emerge as a coherent whole, in a manner similar to Hoagy Carmichael’s experience of composing “Stardust”?

What is your improvisational art?

After the Flood: Initiating Assertive Behavior

In my previous article, I described the distinction between assertive behavior and aggressive behavior. The essential difference: Assertive behavior seeks to make one’s ideas and opinions known while respecting the ideas and opinions of others, whereas aggressive behavior focuses primarily on “winning,” regardless of the impact on anyone else.

It’s easy to stereotype aggressive behavior as the exclusive domain of bullies, badgerers, and other bad actors. In fact, though, even the most well-meaning people can edge into aggressive territory whenever a dispute threatens to push their emotions out of control. This reaction to the overwhelm of emotion – which the relationship expert John Gottman refers to as “flooding” – often leaves the person with a Hobson’s choice: Either give in to the urge to lash out (and risk poisoning the air even more) or shut down completely (and risk sweeping the entire matter under the carpet, only to have it reemerge with a vengeance later).

In either of these situations, assertiveness as a response goes by the wayside. Assertive behavior requires a certain clear-headedness, an ability to lay out one’s case in an articulate, rational way despite the emotional charge of the situation – or, as Maggie Kuhn put it, the ability to “speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.”

So if you know that you’re susceptible to flooding, how can you prepare to react more constructively – more assertively – the next time you confront conflict? And is it even possible to “prepare to react”? Isn’t that as much a paradox as “rehearsing improv”?

Well, as with the (seeming) improv paradox, you can “prepare” to deal with a conflict situation not by drafting a specific set of scripted responses but by conditioning your intuitive mind to deal effectively in-the-moment with whatever the situation brings.

One way to do this is to quit thinking of assertiveness only as a reactive behavior that is only applicable to an emotionally charged conflict situation. Framing the issue in this way serves to reinforce your mind’s tendency to associate assertiveness with the flooding response and its accompanying no-win options.

Instead, as a way to reframe your thinking, consider finding opportunities to practice applying the “friendly” side of assertiveness. As described in the website Trans4Mind:

Assertiveness doesn't always wear a serious face; we are also being assertive when we smile, initiate a handshake, start or close a conversation, develop a friendship or relationship, express enthusiasm and happiness, and say "yes."

And, to use another improv concept, you can start thinking of assertiveness as an offer you can initiate in order to start a chain of positive behaviors.

Effective Offers and Assertive Behavior

Improv involves the making and accepting of offers. The onstage action grinds to a halt (or never gets going in the first place) if the players don’t alternate the offering of new ideas and the accepting of those ideas via “Yes And.”

While much of the focus of improv is on accepting (to the point that “Yes And” has become virtually synonymous with improv), the offering is equally important – otherwise, there would be nothing to say “Yes And” to. And, as I mentioned in my earlier article on Nikita Khrushchev, even the mere action of accepting is insufficient to keep an interaction moving forward. While the “Yes” constitutes acceptance, it must be accompanied by an “And” that offers new or additional information that builds on the original offer. Otherwise, as Khrushchev observed, the result is a situation where the offeror becomes “yessed to death” by the acceptor.

I’ve been thinking of offer-acceptance lately as I’ve explored the topic of assertive communication. Assertive communication involves stating one’s ideas, opinions, and needs in a way that respects others. Assertiveness is often contrasted with aggressiveness, which is marked by a disregard for others’ viewpoints and feelings and seeks primarily to win – whatever the impact on others.

I think a parallel can be drawn between assertive behavior and effective offer-making on the improv stage.  In order to make effective offers, a performance improviser must provide his ideas while respecting the contributions of his fellow players and acting collaboratively to build a scene. By contrast, the ineffective offeror tries to drive or control the action in order to feed his ego and draw attention to himself and away from the team. The former acts assertively, the latter aggressively.

As a Daily Improviser, what kind of offering behaviors do you employ in your day-to-day interactions? Do you directly and forthrightly assert your ideas and views in a way that respects the contributions of others? If another person says “Yes” to your offer and adds their own “And” offer, do you “Yes And” in kind? Do you Accept the Person, Acknowledge the Possibilities in what they offer, and Advance with Positive Purpose?

Or do you subscribe to the view that “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing”? That is, do you try to steamroller others with your opinions in an aggressive way, dismissing their opinions as obstacles to progress? Do you treat their negative reactions to your behavior as reflective of someone who “Can’t take it”?

Or do you rarely if ever make offers at all? Do you passively allow others to determine the direction that the team - and you - will follow? If asked directly for your opinion, do you just nod your head and say “Whatever anyone else wants is ok with me”? Do you "yes" others to death?

The Daily Improviser, then, can see assertive behavior as a path between aggressive behavior (on one side) and passive behavior (on the other side).

Yogi Berra and the Daily Improviser

I just started reading Yogi Berra: Eternal Yankee, Allan Barra’s new biography of one of the most recognizable names and faces in baseball. Yogi was one of the greatest catchers (many say the greatest catcher) in Major League history. Yet his fame outside of the baseball world rests largely on his trademark “Yogiisms,” paradoxical or tautological observations that approach a Zen-like level of inscrutable wisdom.

Some of my favorite Yogiisms include:

“Nobody ever goes to that restaurant anymore; it’s too crowded.”

“You can observe a lot by just watching.”

“If people don’t want to come to the ballpark, how are you gonna stop ‘em?”

And of course his best-known saying:

"It isn't over til it's over."

One Yogiism bears a particular significance for the Daily Improviser. In describing the tendency of many players to get too far inside their heads when they’re at the plate, Yogi once said:

“You can’t think and hit at the same time.”

I think this perfectly anticipated Steve Zaffron and Dave Logan's concept of mastery, which I’ve explored a number of times in the Daily Improviser blog. Zaffron and Logan, in the book The Three Laws of Performance, describe mastery as “nothing between you and the thing you’re dealing with.”

Yogi’s observation about hitting conveys a sly insight into the nature of mastering a task. As Allen Barra says:

Yogi never said that being able to think wouldn’t help you to hit – quite the contrary. As he phrased it … “You do your thinking before you get up to bat. We used to spend a lot of time before the games talking about certain pitchers, what they threw, and what was the best way to hit them in certain situations…. We just didn’t stand there thinking when we were up at bat."

I think that any performance improviser would recognize the same effect at work with respect to improvising onstage. While offstage, improv performers can endlessly hash over the subtleties and philosophical aspects of their art. Yet once they hit the boards, the best improvisers follow the advice of Viola Spolin:

"Shut off the mind. When the rational mind is shut off, we have the possibility of intuition."

Similarly, the Daily Improviser masters her art by first putting in her thousands of hours of preparation - thinking, analyzing, evaluating, practicing - and then getting into flow with her surroundings as she fluidly and instinctively applies her skills.

In future articles I'll continue to share some Yogi wisdom as it applies to the Daily Improviser. However, as for this article ...

It's over.

Saying "No" to "No Negativity" - Part 2

In my previous article, I referred to two prominent motivational speakers who – in the name of positive thinking – advocated eliminating “negative people” from one’s life. This view is criticized on two counts by Barbara Ehrenreich in her book Bright-Sided.

First, says Ehrenreich, if we eliminate negative people from our lives (including our organizations), we risk becoming “cut off from reality.”

Her second criticism deals with a much more personal concern: What it means to be a friend. As she says:

“Purge everyone who 'brings you down,' and you risk being very lonely …. The challenge of family life, or group life of any kind, is to keep gauging the moods of others, accommodating to their insights, and offering comfort when needed.”

Offering comfort. Lending an ear and a shoulder. Gauging and inquiring into moods. Sensing when to give advice, when to ask the soul-searching question, when to just be quiet and let the other person vent. These are the marks of being a good friend – and a mature adult.

I think, then, that shunning “downer” people in the name of protecting our own sunny dispositions reveals another limit of positivity. Such a move not only restricts our growth but also sells us short – by overlooking the possibility that, rather than our being infected by their gloomy outlook, we could infuse the “Yes And” spirit in them and make a difference in their lives.

Saying "No" to "No Negativity" - Part 1

“Get rid of negative people in your life. They waste your time and bring you down.”

“Negative people suck! Avoid them at all costs. If you have to cut ties with people you’ve known for a long time because they’re a negative drain on you, so be it.”

So say two prominent motivational speakers and coaches as quoted by Barbara Ehrenreich in her new book Bright-Sided, a critical look into the world of positive thinking.

So – sounds like good advice, right?

Not surprisingly, Ehrenreich says: No. And her observations may help us continue exploring the question I raised earlier: Are there limits to “Yes And” – and to positivity in general?

I’ve already mentioned one limit to the “Yes And” concept for the Daily Improviser when she attempts to collaborate with another person. In my view, “Yes And” means Accepting the Person, Acknowledging the Possibilities, and Advancing with Positive Purpose – but it does not necessarily mean Agreeing with the Position or Accepting the Proposal. The Daily Improviser shouldn’t ignore a deeply held value of hers in the name of “being positive.” There are times when NO is an appropriate stance to take – as long as it’s a NO that keeps the door open for further dialog.

But what’s wrong with applying positivity to our personal relationships in the way the motivational gurus suggest above? Why not avoid people who represent a toxic influence in our lives?

Two reason, says Ehrenreich. First:

“[P]urge everyone who brings you down and you risk being … cut off from reality.”

Individuals and organizations need people who will sound the cautionary note, who will prevent others from marching off a cliff, who will head off the momentum of rampant Groupthink. By pointing out the value of continual reality checks, Ehrenreich echoes what Jim Collins in his book Good to Great refers to as the Stockdale Paradox: “Confront the brutal facts - yet never lose faith.”

Just as there is a time and a place for NO in the “Yes And” collaboration context, so does NO have a place in evaluating an individual’s or organization’s situation, performance, and options. Yet, just as in the collaboration context, it must be the type of NO that keeps dialog flowing – that suggests possible solutions, that supports others in their search for a better future, that maintains a faith in the ability to move forward productively.

In my next article, I’ll cover the second reason that Ehrenreich cites for negating the notion of “no negativity.”