From Dream to Dirty Vanilla Box

By Pam Victor

When the clouds parted 15 years ago and the Great Goddess of Improv locked me in her fierce tractor beam with songs of laughter and connection, I didn't know that I was just one of hundreds - maybe thousands - to have the epiphany that improv was my calling. I didn't know because almost none of them lived anywhere near me in Western Mass. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. As I sat there for the first time in a dusty barn-like room with about 15 other slightly terrified people from all walks of life listening to our teacher explain the tenets of improv, the one and only thing I knew was that I was deeply and madly in love. With improv.

And all I wanted was more improv, more improv, more improv. A match was lit and it spread like wildfire in my soul. If you looked into my eyes, you would see little funny flames burning. If you cupped your hand like you would with a seashell, and listened to my chest, you would hear my heart beating "more improv, more improv, more improv." As luck would have it, there was only just one improv show in my little neck of the woods in Western Massachusetts, a terrific troupe called the Villa Jidiots who performed short form improv occasionally throughout the county and in the backroom of a Chinese restaurant once a month. Though, again luckily, they didn't seem to be interested in casting me in their show. Yes, it was luck. Though I thought the lack of improv scene was my albatross, it ended up being my awesomesauce. Just like improv promises, there are no mistakes. There are only opportunities.

But 15 years ago, there were no opportunities in sight. So I made my one. Improv teaches us to accept the moment without judgment and to move forward in positivity one small step at a time. So I begged some friends from that first ragtag class and founded an improv troupe. Thankfully, we had no idea what we were doing - so many opportunities to learn! - and our first gig was at my local library in my tiny dot of a town in Western Mass. We did a lot of libraries back then. Lots of fundraisers. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. And still the Goddess held me in her tractor beam. More improv, more improv, more improv.

In 2012, I took another big leap of faith. I knit together a fragile web of childcare coverage - many thanks to my in-laws and my ever-supportive husband! - to allow me to spend five weeks in Chicago studying at the mecca of longform improv, iO Theater. I cried a lot in preparation for that trip because I felt like a fraud and a fake and a dilettante. Why was I abandoning my family to do this insane thing for no sensible reason? Here I was studying improv with people who were working for their shot on "Saturday Night Live," and I had few prospects in improv aside from my blind willingness to listen to the drumbeat of my passion. Turns out, that's enough. Improv guru Susan Messing says, "Being brave is being scared as shit but doing it anyway with the result of flying." I was scared as shit to go to Chicago. What's more, I didn't know why I was doing it, only to return to my little life raising my kids in Western Mass. But I tacked Susan Messing's words to my bulletin board, making it a vision board, and I spent five of the happiest weeks of my life in Chicago only to come back home to continue homeschooling and raising my kids with no prospects in improv. But still the drumbeat continued, More improv, more improv, more improv.

With no destination in sight, my thirst for improv knowledge lead, one silly step at a time, to an interview blog series where I asked my improv heroes every question I could think of about the art form. They thought I was a journalist, but really I was just cobbling together my own education from the confines of my life as a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom in woodsy Western Mass. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. Because that blog series lead me to implausibly ask the two most well-respected improvisers in the world to let me write their book. (Experienced, I lacked. But steely ovaries? I had a pair, I guess.) And the Improv Goddess must have shined down her light because they answered, "Yes, and..."

That's when the dream turned into an experiment. After 10 years of homeschooling our son, we dropped him of at college. I suddenly was out a job and the house was quieter except for that drumbeat. More improv, more improv, more improv. In August 2014, I started the "Can I Make a Living Doing What I Love?" Experiment, a yearlong effort to make $16,000 - the poverty line for a family of two - through improvisation. In Western Massachusetts. Where there were a grand total of five performing improvisers. Improv teaches us to jump and then figure it out on the way down. So I jumped.

Soon I was the one teaching a class of 15 slightly terrified people from all walks of life. I had no idea what I was doing. So I did what improv trained me to do, I disregarded the voices of unhelpful judgment and I figured it out one step at a time. There were obstacles that turned into opportunities along the way, and I fell back on the improv tenets: Move forward with positivity. Pay attention to the moment that was happening - as opposed to what I wished or feared was happening - and follow where it was taking me. One class of students turned into two, which turned into more improv and more improv and more improv.

In 2015, I officially founded Happier Valley Comedy, Inc, a nonprofit with a mission to bring more laughter, joy, and ease to Western Massachusetts (and the world.) Much to my surprise and, if we're being honest here, chagrin, I found myself running a company despite the fact that I didn't know how to run a company. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know as I built the little improvised house as I lived in it. One metaphorical brick at a time, I built the wing of a improv training program. One metaphorical brick at a time, the wing of the shows. One metaphorical brick at a time, the wings of the professional and personal development programs. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. It allowed me to open myself to ask for help and guidance, which lead to forming a leadership team and community of the most supportive, enthusiastic humans on earth ... almost all of whom love a good poop joke.

Yesterday, on May 22, 2018, my business partner Scott Braidman and I signed a lease on a 1,300 square foot space on Route 9 in Hadley, Massachusetts. (The bricks aren't metaphors anymore!) Right now, it's what they call a dirty "vanilla box," an empty room devoid of anything but walls and toilets. But when we look at it, we see the first ever improv theater and training center in Western Massachusetts.

"I thought this was going to feel more celebratory," said Scott as we clinked our turmeric lattes together in Pulse Cafe, the vegan restaurant across the street, after signing the lease. We both looked at each other wide-eyed and scared as shit. There is so much we don't know about building a theater. We don't even know what we don't know. "We are going to learn so much," said Scott, which is improv-speak for "Holy crap. We are going to make so many mistakes." We are trying to be grateful for all we don't know.

Gulp.

Trust.

Jump.

Pam celebrating in the dirty vanilla box
(May 22, 2018)

Figure it out.

Fly.

Rinse.

Repeat.

The only thing we can do now is to move forward, step by step, as if we were in an improv scene. First notice without judgment to how it feels and accept that reality. (It's scary! Yay! We have no idea what's going to happen! Yay!) Then we need to listen to what's really happening in the moment - rather than what we hope or fear is happening - and serve the needs of those moments one small step at a time.

The first thing we're going to need is a broom.

----

Pam Victor is the founder and Head of Happiness - which is what they call the President - of Happier Valley Comedy where she runs the Through Laughter program for professional and personal growth and a multi-level improv comedy school as well as producing regular improv shows in Western Massachusetts. Pam is the author of “Baj and the Word Launcher: A Space-Aged Asperger Adventure in Communication” and, along with legendary improvisers TJ Jagodowski and Dave Pasquesi, co-author of “Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ & Dave Book.” Pam is a nice person. She likes you already.

On August 12, Pam will be facilitating "F*ck Your Fear & Trust Your Truth," a personal growth workshop for all who identify as women. This three-hour workshop takes place at the Happier Valley Comedy Theater at 1 Mill Valley Road in Hadley, Massachusetts, the first-ever improv theater in Western Massachusetts. For more about that workshop and more, check out. www.happiervalley.com.

“That Just Happened” (Or “Moving Forward from a Clusterfuck)”

by Pam Victor

You know that burning, sinking moment that happens after something potentially horrible just occurred? We feel our fight-or-flight response kick in, our blood pressure ramps up into overdrive, those gnarly chemicals that make us feel at once hot and cold as the reptilian brain takes over and rational thought goes bye-bye. Everything in our bodies and minds is screaming “Bad! Bad! Bad!” And even after the initial shock begins to fade, we may still be eager to kick ass and take names even as we’re wanting to curl up in a ball and cry, or else hide from our fear with the numbing balm of social media, wine, and chocolate. 

Yeah, that feeling.

What’s next? How are we supposed to proceed from there if it feels like half the world is going low and rather than get high, we want to “go high”?

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” 

- Buddha

As always when I’m lost and bereft, I look to improvisation for guidance. Ever helpful, improvisation offers two useful directions in this situation. The first is to seek the practice of Non-judgment, which to me means accepting the reality of the moment as it is, rather than how we wish it would be. The second useful direction is to practice the kissin' cousin muscles of Agreement and Acceptance, which I define as the act of moving forward together given the present reality.

Improvisers get to strengthen the muscles of Non-judgment, Acceptance, and Agreement quite often in our scenework. We’re doing a scene and our scene partner comes in and “fucks it up” by saying something we might consider annoying or the result of poor listening or that takes the scene where we didn’t want to go. You know that feeling, I’m sure.  You initiate a scene, and someone comes on and responds in a way that makes you have this feeling of disappointment. Maybe you even sigh. Maybe you feel a wave of anger or annoyance. It happens. It will happen again. Now what? How to continue the scene while still seeking ease and joy?

That’s when I evoke the story I’ve taken to calling “The Parable of Dave Razowsky’s Foot.” I call it a parable because I’ve told the story so many times in my own way and according to my own interpretation that it’s no doubt ceased to be the story I heard improv teach extraordinaire Dave Razowsky tell on a podcast years ago. That’s my way of saying that the story I’m about to tell you now is my own version and is not the way it really went down. Here is how I tell “The Parable of Dave Razowksy’s Foot:”

Once upon a time, Dave Razowsky was at a wedding reception dancing with a woman. In my imagination, the woman is quite large, like an Amazon in pink chiffon. So excited was this lovely Amazon at the prospect of dancing with Dave Razowsky, that she placed her two meaty paws upon his shoulders in delight, and slammed him to the ground in mislaid enthusiasm. Unaware of her impending Amazonian fervor, Dave Razowsky’s foot found itself at an angle, so when it had its unhappy encounter with the hard ground, Dave Razowsky’s foot ended up breaking very badly. 

And in that moment, Dave Razowksy says he thought, “That just happened.”

Not “Holy fuck, you Amazon she-bitch, what have you done?! You fucking broke my fucking foot!”

Not even, “Aaaaaaaah! My foot! It’s broken! Ooooooowwwww!”

Merely, “That just happened.”

The foot breaking was an event. The “holy fuck!” is the judgment. And according to the parable, Dave Razowsky was able to remain in the event. On one hand, that event in my parable had many bad outcomes: Dave Razowsky was unable to work for quite some time. He couldn’t do his shopping.  He was stuck at home for 6-8 weeks. But the event also had positive outcomes: Dave Razowksy had time for projects he wouldn’t have had time for otherwise. He had opportunities to sit and be present and think and imagine, which lead to more opportunities for productive growth. He found out who his real friends were, the ones he could count on, the ones who actually did his shopping for him and took him to the foot bone doctor and sat around with him and made him laugh while his foot healed. (Again, these outcomes are for parable purposes only and may not be what actually happened in real life to the real Dave Razowsky, who is a swell guy with a fully functioning foot.)

The Real Dave Razowsky

“That just happened.” Which means accepting the reality of the moment in a place of non-judgment. The Amazon slammed him to the ground and his foot was broken. Your scene partner just came in and responded to your offer. The election did not turn out the way I had fervently hoped. Now what? 

First, the improv guideposts of Non-Judgment, Agreement, and Acceptance help us practice accepting the present reality as it is rather than how we wish it would be. No amount of denial, bargaining, chest-beating would unbreak the foot, change the offer, alter the election. It happened.

Personally, I can’t always jump straight to “That just happened.” Because I am a paint-still-drying, evolving human, I find that I often have to go through a state of negative emotion before I can get to accepting the shit sandwich of reality. (Yes, “shit sandwich” is a judgment. See? “The just happened” is a practice. Sometimes, I get there. Sometimes I don’t.) Usually, I have to feel sad/mad/disappointment/grief for a proportional period of time before I can claw my way to the judgment-free acceptance of “That just happened.” Still, I can use this parable as an intention to move towards because accepting the reality of the moment is necessary in order to find the most ease and joy of reality.

Once acceptance happens, we can move forward. That’s the next step: Given the reality of what just happened, how can we now move forward together?

I don’t have to deny that I’m unhappy about the current reality, but improvisation demands us to accept it and move forward together. Inspired by a Del Close quote, I describe the act of building a scene with this full-hearted acceptance as being like building a life raft together while we’re in it.

“A Harold is like building a 747 in mid-flight.” – Del Close

My litmus test of Agreement is “Does this offer add to our life raft?” If it does, great. If not, that move probably wasn’t an act of agreement and wasn’t helpful in moving us forward together. Ideally, we’re in a scene together constantly adding little pieces to our life raft as we glide easefully down the stream. If all goes well, by the time we leave the stage, the ground under us is solid, steady, and leak-free. 

Applying this offstage, when we find ourselves in the clusterfuck of life, we may find it most helpful to get to a place of non-judgment acceptance – That just happened – where we cease resisting reality, so we can then figure out how we can move forward together. How can we build a life raft together with the maximum joy and ease? That means, I can’t argue with my  “scene partners” in life about what they’re bringing to the moment. I have to figure out how I can build onto what they’re bringing to the moment so hopefully we don’t all die in a fiery blaze of shitfire. 

That just happened.

Now how can we move forward together?

“When it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached, don't adjust the goals. Adjust the action steps.”- Confucius

I don’t claim to yet have the answer for you, but I hope you find it useful to ask the question. Then pay attention like a ninja-detective, so you don’t miss the next step when it appears.

* * *

A Note to My Children on November 9, 2016

Yeah, well, this sucks. On behalf of the world, I apologize to you and your generation. Dad and I and our friends worked hard to avoid this reality, but the world has failed you at this moment, there is no doubt. And it's scary and upsetting and it feels like anger would feel better than fear. Though it's okay to feel anger and fear, I urge you to eventually channel your anger and fear into hope, love, and action.

Humans are strong, resilient creatures. I keep thinking about how scary it must have been for the generation before mine. When they were your age, in the mid- to late-60s, their friends were being drafted into the military to fight in a senseless war. There were protests in the street. Segregation and sexism were blatant realities. Heroes were being murdered - JFK, Robert Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King - and it must have felt scary and hopeless, yet humans overcame.

I've also been thinking about how scary it must have been during World War 2. London was being bombed. Paris was occupied by Nazis. Millions of people were being systematically murdered. It must have felt hopeless, yet somehow humans overcame.

Over and over, there have been in scary, hopeless times in our history. And yet humans managed to somehow overcome.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it. We are in a dark time. But we will overcome this too. History is a swinging pendulum. We are in an extreme. It will swing back eventually with some hard work and hope.

You are both in important fields for our times: art and education. Music and theater are vehicles for spreading messages of love, hope, resistance, and change. Education is the antidote to hate and ignorance. Education is hugely important for moving our world out of darkness. Once we come out of our grief, let's all focus on our art and education to heal the world. I am so proud of you both.

So, the thing is, the next days and weeks are going to suck. I need you both to take care of yourselves, mentally, spiritually, and physically. I strongly strongly strongly suggest you STAY OFF SOCIAL MEDIA. It is not going to be helpful right now. Though it feels like we want to "be with our friends," social media is not a healthy place right now. In the future, social media will be useful as a way of banding people together to spread messages of love, hope, change, and education; but right now, it's full of fear. And it's all conjecture. Nobody knows how things are going to turn out. (Read that again. It's important.) They're just spinning out their worst fears. Please try to go on a digital diet for a week. Believe it or not, that's what I'm doing as much as possible, unless I have to promote shows. I'm off Facebook for a while because I know it's not going to be a healthy place for me and it will be too upsetting to see my friends spinning out their worst fears and present pain. If I can do it, you can too.

If you listen to the news, be sure to remind yourself of the difference between fact and beliefs. Concentrate on what is actually happening. What is a fact and what is an opinion? Put the beliefs and opinions in perspective. They're not reality; they're only ideas. Beliefs are not necessarily true or what's going to happen in the future. They are ideas, and ideas change. Even reality changes.

My plan is to concentrate on the voices of Good in the world. Find the leaders you trust in, both world and local leaders. Listen to them. Stand with them. This week, we are going to grieve. Next week, the work begins. 

By the same token, make sure to take breaks from the work and from unhelpful people in your life. Though these are dramatic days, kids your age tend to be extremely dramatic because you all feel things deeply. That's not a bad thing. In fact, that's important. But over the next week or so if things are feeling too intense at school, take a break. Sierra, I will come pick you up today if you need me too. Jake, Aunt Col will pick you up if you need a little break tonight or one or two evenings (or more) this week...she is very wise and will know what to say to help you maintain perspective. If you need to come home for a while, that's an option too. Otherwise, we'll see you in a couple weeks.

Please talk to dad and me if you are feeling worried. If you don't want to talk to us, it's important to reach out for help when you need it. You both have a fantastic, powerful tribe of adults - teachers, our friends, family - who love you and would drop everything to be of service to you. All you have to do is ask.

I love you both.

Mom

P.S. If you want to share this note with your friends in the event that it might be helpful, please do.

Pam Victor is an improv comedian, author, teacher, consultant, and nice person. She is the founder and Head of Happiness of Happier Valley Comedy, the epicenter of improv in Western Mass, where Pam teaches The Zen of Improv to the best students in the world as well as bringing the power of improvisation to the workplace in her "Through Laughter" program.  TJ Jagodowski,  David Pasquesi, and Pam are the co-authors of "Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ and Dave Book."   She lives online at www.pamvictor.com.

Unless you're a meanie, Pam would probably like you.

Essay: Hating Winter Less

By Pam Victor

This is the time of the winter that separates the pussies from the ass-kickers. It's a frigid February 6th in New England. The temperature is not expected to rise above freezing anytime soon. With windchill right now, it is 0 fucking degrees. Zero. Nada. Kaput. There is not even enough heat to register an actual number. Simple acts, like walking to the car or getting the mail, fill our days with dangerous treks that may or may not require the assistance of sherpas and may or may not land us on crutches for the next six weeks. Walking outside has become work. (How fucked up is that?!) We had a lot of snow. We have a lot of snow. We are getting a lot more snow. I heard a story on NPR last night about something ridiculous called a "snow farm" in Boston, where they have to create a farm to get rid of their snow because there is nowhere else to put it. It's like a reverse harvest of arctic proportions.

Even the kids want to kill the snowman at this
point of the winter.

And this is the year I decided to try not to hate winter so damn much. And this is the time of the winter when I need to put the pedal to my meddle to get over this last, eternal hurdle of wintery hate. So I thought it would be a good time to share with you some of the things that helped me hate winter less so far this winter:

Sometimes you have to look hard
to find the sun.

Seeking Light: Lighting more candles, stoking the fireplace, sitting in found sunlight, noticing blue skies, appreciating the additional minutes of sun each day - I've had to make more of an effort to welcome, notice, and appreciate all of sources of light.

Embracing Warmth: Likewise, I've tried to seek out and be grateful for any bit of warmth I could find this winter. In the beginning of the winter, I splurged a little at Marshall's, where I bought a few of the toastiest sweaters I could find. Most days, I'm wearing a scarf or two. If I'm sitting down, there is a blanket on my lap. On the coldest days, I'll pop on a knit hat in the house, which looks stupid as shit but really makes a huge difference. At night, I'll heat up one of those rice bag thingies in the microwave and bring it to bed with me. While the southern hemisphere is boggarting the warmth at this time of year, I pull any source of warmth I can find into my days and nights.

Layering the Layers: When I take off my clothes to go to bed every night, it's like clowns getting out of a miniature Volkswagen. The layers of clothes keep coming and coming and coming off. And not in a sexy way either. It's like the opposite of sexy with me huffing and puffing just to take off my pants. A sweater, then a long-sleeve shirt, then a t-shirt. Pants then tights. Two pairs of

My favorite winter poem

socks. It's exhausting! Sometimes I'm packed into my clothes so tightly, I collapse on the bed and beg my husband to help me because by the time I get to the tights, I've completely sapped my reservoir of strength. 

All Hail the Fleece Leggings!: Lordy lord! Fleece tights and leggings are the best thing for my legs since the invention of skin. I love fleece leggings so fucking hard, you guys. And, yes, I'll put on a pair of fleece-lined tights under a pair of fleece-lined leggings, and I don't fucking care what the fuck you fucking think. Judge all you want; meanwhile, my legs will be in heaven.

Harnessing the Power of Socks: Never underestimate the power of a good pair of socks. Preferably two. Some thick hiking socks over a thin pair of regular socks is a crucial part of me not hating winter. I don't try to tough it out anymore by being a so-called Hardy New Englander. I put on a couple pair of good socks every day, and that makes me happy.

Warming Foot Cream: Yeah, back to the feet. I know feet are kind of gross, but this winter I've given them some extra care because most other winters I've forgotten my feet even existed until the summer when I'm happily reunited with my toes. But this year, I pampered my little piggies a little more before encasing them in layers of cotton and wool by rubbing some warming cream that I had laying around.

There is a babbling brook under
there somewhere

Yeah, warming cream is a thing. Who knew? Is it a sexual thing? Have I been rubbing my feet with vag cream? I don't really care because it feels good and I don't want to put any perfumy crap on my delicate lady parts anyway. I think someone bought this warming cream for me at some point from The Body Shop. So a few times a week, I'll give my feet a little treat with some of this stuff and a little massage before bidding them adieu into those super warm socks.

Tea, Tea, and More Tea: My tea collection has always been quite a sight - I love tea so much, my BFF and I even wrote a tea review blog - but during the winter my tea collection really pulls its weight. Recently, I plunked down even more pennies on a spicy cinnamon tea that I discovered. Ginger tea is great. I even found a chocolate peppermint tea. And nothing chases away the chill like chai; plus a pot simmering on the stove makes the house smell like a delicious Indian bazar. (Also, I have no idea what an Indian bazar smells like. Please do not disturb my fantasy.) As it gets to be the time of the winter that separates the men from the boys, I'll be over here, all lady-like 'n shit, with my pot of tea.

Biking: I fucking hate exercise. No, seriously. I know you think you hate exercise, but I really do hate it. But in October, my husband got me this device that hooks up to my bike to make it into a stationary bike that I can ride inside. So if I really can't shake the chill out of my bones, I'll climb on to that thing while I'm watching some shitty-but-good TV show. Brings in the heat like a charm.

Ya, Mon: I've never been to Jamaica, but reggae music makes me feel like I'm on a tropical island. Steel drums played on the beach is the soundtrack of my winter. Any tropical music will do. To beat the winter blues, I try to fill my ears with sunset-tinged music meant to be listened to under the swaying palms while the ocean laps at my naked toes. Giant spleef optional.

Daffodils: Coincidentally (or not), Trader Joe's - bless their hearts - starts stocking small bouquets of daffodils starting the exact week when

Goddess bless Trader Joe for these
daffodils.

we least believe winter will ever end. They cost only $1.50. I've never been one to buy myself cut flowers, but these fuckers are worth it. I'll divide the bouquet to put a few on my desk and some in the kitchen, which helps to remind me to not believe the little voice in my head that says it will be winter forever.

Instragram: This winter, I fired up my Instragram account again. The act of posting pretty winter photos forces me to

Yes, sometimes I even use filters. Woohoo!

find the beauty in this season. It really is quite beautiful, isn't it? I mean, it's fucking obnoxious as far as seasons go, but it's astoundingly beautiful.

Laughter: If you know me, you know how important improv comedy is to me. Though it's been hard some nights to venture out into the dark to go to my improv comedy classes and shows, the laughter we share together never fails to warm my heart and soul.

Dog is My Savior: If I could like winter just 1/10th as much as my dog loves it, I would be better off. My dog LOVES winter. When she sees it's snowing out, Gemma becomes the earthly embodiment of Pure Joy. She bounds around in the snow drifts, burying her head, making little doggy snow angels, and she'll look at me like, "Do you see this????! I mean,seriously, Mom, can you believe how incredible this snow is???!?! And it's EVERYWHERE! Isn't that the best thing you've ever seen?!!!?!? All this awesome stuff is all over the place!!!! This is the best day ever!!!!" I can't say I share her boundless enthusiasm for the snow, but I do try to let some of it rub off on me during our daily walks.

Snow lover or coke head? Hard to tell.
But Gemma loves the white stuff.

Though the solstice is behind us, there is no doubt that the darkest, most brutal days of winter are here. The hope of Spring is the tiniest flame in our hearts that needs to be tended to and nourished to keep alive. Hopefully, some of these techniques might help you get through these cold, icy days and nights ahead until the tulips look like little red cups that fairies might drink out of.

* * *

If you like groovy stuff, you might enjoy
The Zen of Improv series, 
which contemplates improvisation and 
mind-expanding ideas like non-judgment, joy, and curiosity. 

*

And "like" my professional FB page please.

Pam Victor is an improv comedian, author, journalist, teacher, and nice person. TJ Jagodowski,  David Pasquesi, and Pam are the co-authors of "Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ and Dave Book."  Currently, Pam teaches  "The Zen of Improv"  to the best students in the world, as well as bringing the power of improvisation to the workplace in her "Through Laughter" program. 

All her stuff is at www.pamvictor.com.

Essay: Deceptively Schlubby Improv

by Pam Victor

The word "schlubby" is stuck in my craw. Recently, New York Times theater critic Ben Brantley reviewed the ground-breaking improvised Off-Broadway show Blank! The Musical. It was a rave review. However the words that linger bitterly for me is the part when he says, "My initial hopes were not high. The deceptively schlubby-looking cast seemed as if it, too, could have been chosen at random from the audience."

Schlubby-looking? I have had the great pleasure of meeting only one member of the performing cast, Katie Dufresne, and she's so naturally sexy that I achieved instant lady wood when we made eye contact. Looking at photos of the rest of the cast, I don't see any that I would kick out of bed. Schlubby-looking? Do I have a schlubby-lovin' kink that's just now been discovered or is Ben Brantley seeing something that I'm missing? If "schlubby-looking" means astoundingly talented improvisers, actors, singers, and humans, then I'm definitely going to start prowling the schlubby-looking porn sites from now on.

Back row: Matthew Van Colton, Douglas Widick,
Andrew Knox.
Front row: Nicole C. Hastings,
Katie Dufrense, Tessa Hersh.
Photo by Jenny Anderson
for Broadway World.com

I'm reminded of a class I took with a Broadway actress who was exploring improvisation as a way to expand her acting skills. After a while of working together, one day she said, "You know, the thing I love about improv that is so different than Broadway is that everyone looks so .... so ..." I cringed as she searched for a word that wasn't insulting. I don't remember the exact working she latched upon, but it definitely was insulting. Something along the lines of "schlubby." Not attractive.

Yes, we are an average-looking bunch. Because that's part of the job! A vastly vast majority of the improvisers I know are incredibly intelligent. And because life is a yin-yang motherfucker, incredibly intelligent people don't often also get to be conventionally, incredibly attractive too. And thank goodness because we couldn't do our job if we were overly blessed with the pretty stick. 

Tonight, I may be called upon to convincingly play a toddler, a football coach, and a three-toed sloth. All in the same show. When I get dressed for a show, I look in the mirror to see if I pass what I call The Hobo Test. I know I could always play a person who looks like me, but could I also play a hobo in this outfit? I'll assume a hobo position and see how things hang on me. If I don't buy it, I change my clothes. An improviser's job is to represent real life onstage, and we can't do that if we look like a super model 'cause that ain't real life. (Unless you're a super model. But even then, you ain't livin' a real life, sister, and you know it.) I'd challenge Angelina Jolie to a sloth-off any day of the week. I'll give her a three-toed head start. And even so, she'll eat my dust. 

But are improvisers schlubby? I don't think so. We look like human beings. Because our job is to be human beings. I think Ben Brantley has been hanging around with movie stars and sparkly Broadway babes too long. He has forgotten the beauty of a God-given nose, the soft lines of eyes who have seen the world, the arched brows of a person who knows what it feels like to be on the bottom rung and doesn't intend to feel it again.

The improvisation world is exploding right now. Schlubby bullshit aside, Ben Brantley also wrote in his review of Blank! The Musical, "Suffice it to say that duets, quartets and even sextets — in which conflicting desires resolved themselves into harmony — sprang into credible, ludicrous and utterly familiar existence. The eventual product brought to mind 'If/Then,' the current Idina Menzel vehicle, and Jason Robert Brown’s '13' filtered through sources as different as 'Gypsy' and 'High School Musical.'"

Meanwhile on the west coast, American Theatre's critic Jason Rohrer recently reviewed a show at L.A.'s Impro Theatre, a job he approached with dread. He writes of his argument with his editor upon getting the assignment, “'Improv?' I protested. 'College students in silly hats? Don’t you have a real show for me?'"

Then he saw the show.

Afterwhich he wrote, "Longform improvisation, properly executed, is a feat expanding the definition of human potential. Dilettantes need not apply. Besides character-oriented performance elements like emotional and physical dexterity, a performer must master the theories of intention; the use of space; the function of theme; the purposes of exposition, plot and story. It takes decades to become proficient in this art, which exemplifies the ephemeral, before-your-very-eyes nature of the theatrical experience itself."

Yes, after decades of incubation (and doing the hard, hard work), the world of improvisation is expanding exponentially. In our mecca of Chicago, iO Theater and Annoyance Theater recently both opened bigger and better theaters. UCB-LA did the same. TJ and Dave and my friends in Boston's Big Bang improv just returned from their own, individual highly successful, whirlwind tours of Europe. Even in my tiny corner of Western Massachusetts, we've seen tremendous growth in just the last year alone. Things are achangin'. And I suspect that in the not too distant future  as slick producers figure out how to put financially advantageous improv shows onstage and screen, we will lose control of the improv train. It's going to get away from us, my friends. And I pray to the Great Goddess of Improvisation that no matter how far afield this artform travels, may improvisers always remain wonderfully schlubby.

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Would you like to dive into some more pieces about improvisation?

Check out Geeking Out with... interviews with deliciously deceptively schlubby talents like:

 Geeking Out with…TJ Jagodowski  of TJ and Dave

...Dave Pasquesi of TJ and Dave
…Peter S. Kim about The Second City’s Bob Curry Fellowship

...Scott Adsit of "30 Rock"

and many more!


Or if you're feeling all tingly and mystical, 
set your brain aside and read:
The Zen of Improv.

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Pam Victor is the founding member of The Ha-Ha’s, and she produces The Happier Valley Comedy Show in western Massachusetts. Pam performs  "Geeking Out with: The TALK SHOW," a live version of the written Geeking Out with... interview series, at comedy festivals throughout the land. Pam writes mostly humorous, mostly true essays and reviews of books, movies, and tea on her blog, "My Nephew is a Poodle." Currently, Pam is finishing up work on "Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ and Dave Book" with co-authors TJ Jagodowski and David Pasquesi. Read all her nonsense at www.pamvictor.com. 

Essay: Life Sucks and Then You Die

by Pam Victor

Every morning, I wake up thinking about the futility of life. I've never been a graceful greeter of the morning dew, and I'm definitely not getting more chipper in the morning with age. No, I wake up an existentialist and becoming gradually more optimistic as the day progress. By 10pm, I'm in love with the world and all God's creatures. After a couple hours of  this renewed hope in the future, I hit the hay and the whole cycle starts again. Cue to my alarm clock and the thought, "Life sucks and then you die."

This morning, I decided to hop on the train of pessimistic logic. Life is meaningless. We are doomed. The human race is a spoiled milk long past its expiration date. Ok, so what then? Here I am with my feet on this shit-hole earth. What is the best way to make this most of my time before we're all blown to oblivion or drown with the rising tides or simply disintegrate from lack of intelligence and culture? And here's what I got:

Ease the burden of other people. Make other people's lives better. Pay it forward.

Look, I'm no Mother Teresa, for fuck's sake. Much as it embarrasses me to say this, I don't volunteer at soup kitchens. Though we do try to be as generous as possible, we don't have enough money to give to charity out the wazoo. I'm not even always such a friend indeed to a friend in need. But what I can do is try to say yes when I have an opportunity to make a difference. (As long as it doesn't inconvenience me, of course.) So I will probably throw $20 to sponsor your run for cancer or whatever. I'll put $10 towards your Kickstarter, most likely. And every year, I put some time into raising money for the high school I graduated from, a small, private school for supposedly "gifted" kids in Michigan called Roeper School. Roeper is the place where the lucky square pegs go to live after giving up on the round holes. 

Life sucks and then you die. But at least I can help a former outcast nerd be captain of the basketball team or "non-prom" queen or star of the musical. Because  if my $20 helps that kid's life suck a little less, then maybe life is not so futile after all.

 Roeper School

The "Can I Make a Living Doing What I Love?" Experiment (#12: The Mother of To-Do Lists)

by Pam Victor

[The "Can I Make a Living Doing What I Love?" Experiment is my one-year challenge to make a living through creative pursuits. Read all the updates here.]

One of the hardest parts about the Experiment for me right now is trying to get it all done. For the last few months, I've been continuously putting lots of poles in the water, so that I end up spending a lot of time trying to manage a lot of different poles, as it were. The teaching. The comedy show producing. The writing. Catch a couple fish now and then. (Yay!) Put more poles in the water. Check the poles.

Ok, hang on a sec. You get the poles are emails and phone calls and general outreach to potential teaching/writing/performing gigs, right?

Good. I thought you got it it, but I wanted to check, just in case you thought I was spending a lot of time fishing. To be clear, I am spending zero time fishing. None. Not one minute. In fact, I don't like fishing because of the whole killing fish thing. (No offense, fisherpersons.) I do like eating fish, however, which I realize creates a complex and hypocritical relationship that I have with fishing, but - again - we're not talking about fishing here.

We're talking about this:

That is one of my recent, weekly to-do lists. 

Not long ago, I realized that managing all those poles ... oh, fuck the stupid metaphor ... I mean, doing a lot of different jobs at once makes me anxious. The whole faux-multi-tasking pace stresses me out tremendously. ("Faux" on account of the fact that there is apparently no such thing as multi-tasking. There's just doing a lot of different things quickly and consecutively and, in my case, not always gracefully.) That's where this ugly to-do list comes in handy. It is absolutely required to write it all down. And I've found that due dates are essential as well. As you can see, various colors of highlighter figure into the system as well. Lately, I've been making sub-to-do lists (small, orange pieces of paper with the day's shorter list of things to do), which has been very helpful because it gives me a sense of completion at the end of the day. Plus it's fun to crumple up a little, orange piece of paper and throw it in the recycling pile. Two points!

I'm trying really hard not to get caught up in the stress, just to let it pass like a wave. Though after the last few weeks of being out almost every night, I also realized that working evenings are adding to the stress, which is problematic since all my improv teaching gigs, shows, and rehearsals are in the evening. So I have to figure out a way to get over that. As of yet, I haven't been able to get in any R 'n R during the day, on account of my generalized "Bonbons and Oprah" guilt of watching TV in the middle of the day. I'll figure it out ...

Oh, I should mention that I'm officially one-third of the way to my financial goal! Maybe it is possible to make a living doing what I love? The next trick is to do it without the acid eating away at my stomach lining.

If you dare say I should take up fishing, I'll fucking slap you. With a fish.

God, I love when people get slapped across the face with fish ... that just never gets old.

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Read all the installments in 
The "Can I Make a Living Doing What I Love?" Experiment 
here.

* * *

Pam Victor is the founding member of The Ha-Ha’s, and she produces The Happier Valley Comedy Show in western Massachusetts. Pam performs  "Geeking Out with: The TALK SHOW," a live version of the written Geeking Out with... interview series, at comedy festivals throughout the land. Pam writes mostly humorous, mostly true essays and reviews of books, movies, and tea on her blog, "My Nephew is a Poodle." Currently, Pam is finishing up work on "Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ and Dave Book" with co-authors TJ Jagodowski and David Pasquesi.