Everything happens at the right time

No time is ever wasted. It’s never too late to learn improv, and never wasteful to take a break

I am jealous of Jon Nguyen. During this time of pandemic, I got to know of an improviser named Jon in Norfolk UK. Jon does great improv. Jon is gracious. Jon plays smart. Jon plays fast. Jon plays slow. Jon improvises soliloquies. Jon is a complete improviser. (At this point you should check out Jon Nguyen Improviser). I think, Jon must be a player with, at least, 10 years of experience.

But then this is a punch to my gut and ego. Jon said he has played improv for 3 (THREE!) years. This got me mad and jealous. This dude is mastering improv so fast. I never had the same wisdom Jon has until I had over 10 years experience of, to be honest, shit improv. If only I can be as good as Jon sooner, I can have lots more time to improve.

It is now I realize, wait. I am not jealous of Jon.* I am jealous of TIME. I am jealous of not picking up improv at an earlier time in life. Jealous of not having time with enough teachers in the area. Jealous of having to take a hiatus from improv. Jealous of many many wasted time.

*Do nice improvisers really get jealous? O fuck hell yes. Read Chris Mead’s article on Jealousy in Improv.

Prime years

Sports always think of the concept of an athlete’s prime years. As an athlete ages, their physical abilities erode, but their mental understanding of the game increases. In basketball one’s prime year is around 32 years (when most NBA players win MVP). In tennis it’s around 25. This is the window where they still have the explosive physical skills of youth, yet have gained the maturity of the mental game. Even chess, thought to be a primarily brain-powered sport, has a prime year — around 41 years old. It is a physical strain to perform calculations in your head.

It might be unusual to think of IMPROV having a similar concept of prime years. We regularly play with improvisers under 30 years old to over 50 years old, a really wide demographic. But sure, this concept exists. Not in terms of physical prowess, but in terms of life taking a toll. Jobs, kids, health, kids, overall energy, kids. Your time for improv is going to take massive beatings by things later in life. So in a way it’s still “a race for time” to get your improv act up before life hits the fan. (Is it? I guess this is what the article is about)

(This part is about me)

I’ve done improv for 15 years. I picked up improv at around age 25, which was ‘OK’. I toiled a number of years in a relatively remote place in the Netherlands called Groningen, where back in the day there are few improvisers and lots of cows. You have to take a train past hundreds of cows, canals and windmills, cheese markets, and all things you can imagine Dutch to be, before you hit Amsterdam++ area, where there was a bigger improv scene. But back in the outskirts, it was only our troupe, the international cast of four in Equilibrium Delirium (EQD), meddling around trying to figure how the hell does improv work.

We were having fun improvising and learning by ourselves. In retrospect, we couldn’t do anything much about it either. There was no major schools teaching improv in English. We didn’t have access to teachers. There was no Zoom. There was no microwave version of learning improv. I think we knew Yes-And and a tattered copy of Truth in Comedy but that’s it. I’m pretty sure I lost time (years!) doing this instead of being on a 5-week intensive in Chicago.

Here’s the kicker, after those wasted years, I went to a relatively remote place in Norway called Trondheim, where there were NO improv. There were nice fjords, salmon fishing, Northern Lights, and all things you can imagine Norway to be. And windmills again. I was off improv for 3 years hiatus. My improv was put on ice.

Enough about me.

No time is wasted

Now back to the cheerful Jon Nguyen, who churns awesome improv sets at an alarmingly scary speed. Jon is crushing it and learning from the masters in a thriving UK improv scene. Am I jealous that I didn’t learn improv sooner? That I had to waste years learning improv on my own? That I had to take a break? Yes, yes, yes.

But I’m okay with it. Sometimes a new Jon Nguyen stirs up my sentiments, but after going a few cycles, I’ve learned to be okay to be slow on my learning curve compared to these rising superstars who are better than I will ever be.

Because now I believe that’s just part of the journey. Maybe if there wasn’t “wasted time”, I wouldn’t be doing improv today. Maybe if I had pushed harder, I would have lost the joy and burned out. Maybe if I had elite improv teachers one after another, I wouldn’t have discovered our own joy of making improv work our way. Maybe if I didn’t have a break, I wouldn’t have the chance to re-design my improv to this version that I am enjoying now.

There’s always that little thought, “if only I found out about improv sooner”. But the truth is, that moment you found improv was exactly the time you found improv to be interesting. If you came across it earlier, you might have ignored it. You start improv at the right time. It’s like an improv scene, I am here because this where I need to be. Everything happens at the right time.

In an alternate reality, maybe I could have been a better improviser. Sure. But that’s another scene. Scene imperfect. Life imperfect. We move on.

In fact, this I know for sure. If I didn’t have a hiatus for 3 years, I wouldn’t have such a fierce drive to build the community of Impro Neuf International five years ago. I might still be doing Sex With Me with my same shtick, instead of rethinking what was now important nor feeling the same empathy for people who had never had the chance to do improv. I wouldn’t realize my mission had changed, that from being a personal goal of being an improv star, into someone whose goal was to teach people improv. That time-off is more valuable than anything I could have done improv-wise for 3 years.

So this is what my #1 advice is to hardcore improv students who come up to me because they have stagnated. Sometimes they work extremely hard, going workshops after workshops and not improving. This happens. And the pressure that they feel left behind by their peers (everyone has their Jon Nguyen). Take a break. That’s the best thing you can do.

Improv in the times of pandemic is very special because now suddenly everyone is forced to take a break. Some people continue improv online because it inspires them, while others take a break from the routine. But no one should feel that they have to soldier on if that’s not what inspires them. Whatever you do, your time is never wasted. In fact, the entire world of improv might just benefit from taking this long, looong breather.

Everything happens at the right time.