<aside> 💡 I’m periodically answering questions from other improvisers (send your questions to [email protected] please).

This week, Tim writes: Hey, I know improv is always much better with certain specifics, but I'm sure how to distinguish between a specific which works, and one that doesn't. It's something I struggle with in my improv.

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Ah, specifics.

I love them. Specifics in improv are gold dust as far as I’m concerned. I’m not sure I’d even make the distinction you’ve made, Tim. To me, all specifics are valuable.

Let’s take an example at random. Breakfast cereal.

Your character can grab some cereal from the cupboard but that’s a missed opportunity to build the world of the show. Cereal tells us nothing. Something like Shredded Wheat, for example, gives us information about your character. What kind of person would voluntarily put themselves through the ordeal of eating dry pillows of unsweetened hay? Are they a health junkie or do they perhaps hate themselves at a deeper, more fundamental level? Every time we use a specific, we’re adding detail to the narrative.

Perhaps your character reaches for Cinnamon-Frosted Turbo ChocoBombs? That also tell us something about their personality and outlook on life - but it’s also a signifier of the kind of world we’re in and perhaps even a signal of genre. Cinnamon-Frosted Turbo ChocoBombs don’t exist, I just made them up (at least, I hope I did, I’m almost too afraid to Google it and confirm) - so we’re instantly in a more cartoonish world, a heightened reality, something silly and whimsical. If your team plays in multiple genres and styles - these details help establish the kind of show you’re in today. It’s an invitation to play in a specific paddling pool, an elegant way to establish some ground rules when the show is already in motion.

In Project2, my duo show with Katy Schutte, we look for these clues early on in our set. All we know for sure is the genre will be science fiction, but we look to specifics like this to clear up whether we’re doing Rebel Moon or Rick & Morty - because those are two very different shows.

They say the best improv is discovered not invented and I think specifics are a great way to surprise yourself and your team mates with these kind of discoveries.

Specifics also challenge us to widen our own frames of reference. A great example of this is names. Do you tend to endow people with names from your own cultural milieu? Might it serve you to learn names from other cultures so you can populate your show with the same level of diversity that you see in the world outside your improv theatre? Do you make time to have conversations with improvisers from under-represented communities to ask how (and actually if) they’d like to be endowed with certain names?

At a much much less consequential level, this is the same reasoning that drives me to seek out random specifics and vocabulary from different hobbies and professions. Why I periodically buy specialised magazines about architecture or fishing or dress-making - just to have a few more specifics at the tip of my brain in scenes (Wikipedia is a free way of doing the same thing).

So if you see me staring blankly at a wall of boxes in the cereal aisle of my local supermarket, don’t worry, I’m just learning some new specifics to inspire my improv. I wouldn’t eat Shredded Wheat.

I’m trying to cut down on gluten anyway.

<aside> 💡 Hey, my name’s Chris Mead. I write an article about improv almost every week. You can get the latest in your inbox by subscribing to my newsletter. Or check out the archive.

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