I get this scene work question a lot from students.

What do I do next?

And I think we can all sympathise, right? The scene was going so well. Everyone was on the same page, the laughter was flowing, a good time was being had.

And then suddenly, the momentum just screeched to a halt. Everyone panicked and tried to fix it, all at once and in different ways. Now, no one is connected or even really listening to each other. All that lovely good will and shared world-building squandered or destroyed.

What do I do next?

Maybe it’s not even that things are falling apart necessarily. It’s just that’s nothing is clicking. Everything seems tired, cliché and bland.

What do I do next?

Well, I’ve been pondering this question, and I think I have some answers. Here’s what I think you should be considering in those moments.

1. Don’t overthink it If you’re asking this question as you’re performing then you already have a fundamental problem. The improv stage is not the place for analytical thought, and it’s certainly not the time for value judgements either. If you’re thinking enough to have a narrator voice in your head, plaintively wailing to the world at large that you don’t know what you are doing, then you’re thinking too much. Be in the moment - fall back on attention, listening and response. The improv gods laugh when you make plans (just as regular gods laugh when you do it in real life).
2. Give your character a POV I got this from many different teachers, but most recently from the brilliant Elana Fishbein - have a point of view on the world. That’s easy. It doesn’t require any real thought. Your POV is the lens through which your character sees everything. It might be given to you by another performer, it might be something you’ve given yourself. Now, whatever the scene throws at you, all you do is run it through your lens and you’re golden. You can create a point of view in a bunch of different ways:
   1. An emotion You are suspicious. You are impulsive. You find everything fascinating.
   2. A word Any word. Create something around it. So if you gave me the word lamp - I might be cheery. I might seek to illuminate whatever is being said and understand it. I might be quiet and reserved and seek to shade that which would otherwise make me shine.
   3. An adjective/ noun combo This is great in a narrative show. What have you been given by your scene partner so far? Create something out of this that combines a describing word with your function in the world of the show. I’m a Conniving Socialite. I’m a World-Weary Blacksmith.
3. Make a decision on how you feel about other characters Again, this doesn’t have to be rocket-powered nuclear brain surgery science. Just make a decision on how you feel about everyone else on stage.

Simple choices: I love him. I hate her. More complexity: This person makes me feel safe. This person inspires me. This person has something I want.

Now all you have to do is feel big things and let that power your next line of dialogue, your next move, the revelation you’re about to make. Audience will watch relationship and inter-personal dynamics until the cows come home. You don’t have to be constantly serving plot. 4. Understand the difference between plot and story And on that tip, I recently got a new definition of plot vs story from Brian James O’Connell. Basically, he says plot is:

These three things have to happen at the beginning, SO THAT these three things can happen at the end.

Story is different. Story lives in potentiality - it’s threads you can pull if you so wish. There is no contract with the audience that says you have to deliver on a story moment. I like to look at plot as action: go there, do this, fight him, open that box. Story isn’t action, it’s potential energy. Half remembered from Physics class - you carry a tennis ball up a ladder, that ball has gravitational potential energy - if you drop it, it converts its GPE to downward momentum. Story is like that - you invest people, relationships, things with potential - that’s what makes them become meaningful to the audience. You don’t say it. You show it. And you definitely don’t have to deliver on every last thing you’ve created.

I hope you see how this frees you up? Now your job isn’t to solve problems or move the show forward in giant leaps. Your job is to care, make meaningful, observe, relate, interact and hold space. That seems much easier. Oh and BONUS POINT: if you do move the plot along, make sure you only do that once per scene and then go back to simply existing in character - guided by the twin lighthouses of POV and relationship. 5. Improv is not what you DO, it’s WHO you are That’s Craig Cackowski saying everything I just said above in a much more eloquent way because he’s a genius.

Therefore:

What should I do next?

becomes

Who should I be?

How do I feel about my scene partner?

What’s important to me?