It’s never too late to write the kind of ending that leaves people wanting more.
Last night, Gavin and I went to Improv Night at our local, community theatre.
I haven’t seen improv in years, and I loved every minute. I did A LOT of improv in high school, so maybe it was nostalgia or maybe it was just late for me on a Friday night, but I laughed and laughed and laughed. Almost as funny as the actors were the audience themselves. Our audience wasn’t too quick on the uptake, and since we were sitting in the back, I just found them to be extra funny. Plus, the host was really good at making witty comments about some of the suggestions being shouted from the front seats. In between games, a stand-up comedian did bits from a set he’s working.
It was a bargain date night at only $8.
If you’ve never been to Improv, the premise is simple: The audience provides the inspiration, and the actors take their cues from them. It’s a form of live theatre in which the plot, characters and dialogue of a game, scene, or story are made up in the moment. Improv is fun for the audience because there’s always an element of surprise, and it’s fun for actors because the process helps them build confidence, courage, and creativity.
When it was time to play a new game, our host would pull a slip of paper out of a bucket. After the show, I mentioned to Gavin that the last game was the best one. I said, “I’m so glad they ended with that one.”
And he said, “Didn’t you notice? That slip of paper was yellow and all the others were white. He knew he was going to pull that one out last.”
My next thought was, “That’s so smart!”
Even in improv, where the whole point is to make stuff up and just see where it goes—the actors knew how they wanted the show to end.
Let’s analyze the process.
The first rule of improvisation is to agree. I learned that from Tina Fey’s memoir, Bossypants. But I also learned that from Ms. Bishop—Intro to Drama, 9th grade, Fayette County High School. Seriously, though, this rule is plain ‘ol common sense. Nobody likes a naysayer. If at all possible, AGREE. The premise is easy: One person starts the scene and the other person agrees. Everybody begins on the same page.
Rules 2, 3, and 4 are just as important:
#2: Always say “Yes and….” (The actors must play off of one other and build the scene. Never, ever contradict another actor.)
#3: Make statements instead of apologetic questions (Questions put undue pressure on a fellow actor to come up with ideas. Make statements, and then be a part of the solution to move the scene forward.)
and finally,
#4: There are no mistakes, only opportunities (Ahh.. and this is a perfect metaphor for life).
You can’t plan what you’re going to do from scene to scene, but if you’re an improvisational actor then you can plan how you want your audience to feel at the end of the night.
Psychologists call this the Peak End Theory of Pain and Pleasure.
These actors were onto something.
The Peak End Theory posits that we measure the value of an experience based on how we felt during the peak moments of the experience as well as how we felt at the end of the experience. According to Positive Psychology, findings supporting peak-end theory suggest that a small improvement near the end of an experience can radically shift one’s perception of the entire event.
Peak-End Theory is good news for parents, too, especially ones that worry that they’ve screwed up their kids’ lives. I mean, I didn’t know what I was in for when I had my first daughter at age 25. I had virtually no babysitting experience, had never taken a child development class, and all my friends were just as dumb as me. Now that my kids are getting ready to leave the nest, I can focus on making their last few months with me the most epic of their lives. In theory, therefore, they’ll remember all of childhood as one magical hug in the bosom of mom and dad.
I find this to be an enormous comfort, especially given the stress and anxiety other parents place on each other. It started with, “Is your kid walking yet? How many words do they know?” Then progressed to school and “What kind of enrichment activities are you doing?” Middle school and high school are no picnic for some parents, but I know we’re in the final scene, so while everyone else is all: “Tell me about your SAT and ACT” and “What colleges are your kids applying to?” I want to shout, “Do you remember when we were all pregnant together? Didn’t we say things like, ‘I just want my child to be happy’ and ‘It’s not a competition’ and ‘No one gets a gold star for being a good parent’?
Did we really need to stress out about all those developmental milestones?
Like my friends at iThink Improv, not to mention the infamous George Costanza, I’m going out on a high note.
My oldest daughter is already in her sophomore year of college. We’ve been improvising since the day we brought her home from the hospital. Then we added three more to the mix. A couple of those were surprises too. And guess what? Still improvising. We agreed to raise these crazies, AND we agreed to do our level-headed best. No questions asked. After all, there are no regrets because there are no mistakes—just opportunities to learn and adjust. We’ve cried. We’ve prayed. Maybe we’ve panicked a little. But mostly, we’ve laughed.
I’m taking a page from the iThink Theatre.