The Inner Critic Comes Knocking
This is an article about the Inner Critic and its relation to Applied Improvisation, published in the first volume of AIM (the Applied Improvisation magazine), Jan 2023. The magazine is for members of the Applied Improvisation Network, which you can join through the website.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
The Inner Critic.
The Inner Critic who?
The Inner Critic who wants to know: exactly who do you think you are? And are you going to wear that to dinner?*
(* Read more after the article.)
For the past two decades, I’ve been teaching and writing about how to balance your Inner Critic (and – more recently – its second cousin twice removed, Imposter Syndrome). I’ve met hundreds of your inner beastly behemoths, the three-headed Cerberuses of self-restraint, embarrassment, and cruelty that tells us we’re somehow lesser than. Even the names you give them bring a smile to my writerly heart. I’ve met the Sludge Monster, Doctor Doom, California Barbie, The Bird, Shapeshifter, Wicked Witch, Fuckface, Professor Von Fancypants IV, and many delightfully, creatively-named others.
As a writer, my own Inner Critic has been shouting – loudly – in my ear since I was about 11 years old. In fact, I started taking Improv classes back in 2001 specifically to quiet it. For my Inner Critic, Improv was like the Boggart-banishing Riddikulus spell from Harry Potter:
“The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter.” – Professor Remus Lupin
Here are four rules of Improv that help quell the Inner Critic, on stage, while writing, or in life:
Play in the present moment
Mistakes can be opportunities
I Failed!
Say yes (and)
Play in the Present Moment
Besides meditation or rumination-stopping exercises, one of the only scientifically proven ways researchers have found that help us stay in the present moment is immediacy. Also known as, you know … panic.
Improv’s entire raison d’etre is immediacy in the present moment. You’re on stage or in front of your class, and someone hands you an apple, an ocelot, and a grenade. Is now the time to think about your dwindling retirement funds, or how lousy that meeting went? No time! That ocelot is highly allergic to apples.
One of Improv’s greatest gifts is how ruminating thoughts go ‘Poof!’ when you’re in that moment of immediacy. Look around you right now. Are you in any immediate danger? Do you still feel a nagging sense of foreboding doom about politics, our world, or your life? Thank the Inner Critic and its commitment to making sure you panic enough to stay safe. But thank Improv for reminding you not to get stuck there.
Mistakes Can Be Opportunities
Try telling your Inner Critic that.
Seriously. I mean literally. Say this to your Inner Critic right now:
“Hey, jerkface. That mistake you harangued me for last week? It was actually a growth opportunity, and I’ve already learned X.”
While the Inner Critic wakes you up at 2am to mull over that one time you laughed and accidentally drooled in front of your entire 10th grade math class (or – cough, cough – so I hear), Improv celebrates harmless ‘mistakes’. Called your scene-partner ‘brother’ Colin instead of Kevin? Welp, now Kevin’s got an evil twin named Colin. And maybe Colin builds and then destroys tiny villages for hamsters in his spare time.
In her seminal writing book Bird by Bird, author Anne Lamott recommends “shitty first drafts” to warm up your brain, exactly like an Improv jam or class would.
“Too often storytellers put themselves under enormous pressure to be perfect right out of the gate,” says Amanda Castleman, founder of the online school Write Like a Honey Badger, where I teach creativity and the Inner Critic.
“So give yourself permission to blurt out a messy, sprawling story first. Then slow down and put on your analytical hat, figuring out what works and what doesn’t. But trying to do all those tasks at once is a great recipe for perfectionist procrastination and paralysis, which can lead to writer’s block!”
“I Failed!”
Made a mistake in class? You know that moment in the split-second afterward, when the Inner Critic realizes you’re sliding, sliding, sliding into a rabbit hole of failure? Say the wrong thing, get flustered, or pause too long: your Inner Critic is twirling its evil moustache in anticipation, waiting in the wings ready to jump in.
But, because the ‘failure bow’ (or ‘circus bow’) has been canonized as an Improv rule, your brain knows ahead of time how to slam the judgment door in its gooey, Sludge Monster face. Instead of cowering or hiding in shame, “I failed!” you shout out proudly, taking the biggest, most theatrical, crowd-wowing ‘failure’ bow you can. Everyone cheers, and the Sludge Monster oozes back down to its swamp.
Say Yes (And)
One of the grandfathers of Improv, Keith Johnstone, sums up the wisdom of Yes And (as well as the benefits of a good, hearty No) well:
“There are people who prefer to say yes and there are people who prefer to say no. Those who say yes are rewarded by the adventures they have. Those who say no are rewarded by the safety they attain.”
Inner Critics keep us safe. Safe from danger, threat, and pain, both imagined or – yes – very, very real. And, although they don’t always do it in the kindest or most tactful way, they’re incredibly good at making sure you always do your best, or stay in good standing in your community.
So, ‘no’ can be a beautiful word. In fact, it’s so beautiful to your Inner Critic’s ears, they often prioritize it over your happiness.
Guess what offers you a safe alternative? (Go on, take a guess!)
That’s right: Improv!
In the real world, saying yes to “Want some of these fermented purple berries?” might get you killed. But in Improv, saying “Yes, in fact, I will eat those berries! And, furthermore, I will also…” go on, take your pick: get super-human strength, or magical berry powers. Or maybe it transports you through time. Who knows? Who cares; it’s Improv! You can do whatever you want!
Unfortunately, we don’t speak the same language as our brains’ defense systems, so we have no way of telling our brains modern life isn’t quite so dangerous. Saying ‘Yes and’ within the rules of Improv teaches our 130,000-year-old Inner Critics that the dangers they think they’re protecting us from aren’t always as bad as they might think.
*The same scene as above, but while doing Improv in a supportive environment:
Knock, knock.
… (no answer)
Knock, knock, knock, knock!
… (no answer)
Knock knock knock knock KNOCK KNOCK!
… (no answer; distant sounds of laughter coming from the other room)