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This is a collection of improv metaphors crowd-sourced from the worldwide improv community (and more specifically from the readership of my newsletter Pretend Post).
I’m defining an improv metaphor as an image or story or concept that helps you to understand improv better.
And yes, I’m aware that a lot of them are actually similes.
If you want to add your own, email me at [email protected]
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My first improv teacher, John Cremer, explained to me that the tarot fool is the feeling of not-knowing, the waiting to go on at the side of the stage.
"There is freedom waiting for you on the breezes of the sky, and you ask What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?" - Erin Hanson
Improvising is mindfulness out-loud.
I use the metaphor of the 1970s light up dance floor, like the one John Travolta is standing on in his white suit in Saturday Night Fever.
Allow me elaborate, it's still kind of work in progress (judging by the patient faces of my students as I keep trying to work it). BASICALLY you have to lay the dance floor so the lights work, and you can dance with people on it. As in, tile by tile you not only create a beautiful colourful lighted floor, you also create a literal platform and a party for your scene. Improv in many ways (GO WITH ME) is like a dance with a fun floor; it gives your scenes an inspiring place to shine and flow. And I like it better than building a wall. Maybe that's why people build metaphorical cathedrals rather than just a wall. But then is that Christian-centric? Hmmm maybe not everyone's seen Saturday Night Fever? Or maybe disco music is too olden-daysy. But hopefully you get me?
Often in improv, we see dialog as utilitarian. It gets across offers. It gets across character. We don't get hung up on the words themselves.
In improvised Shakespeare, the dialog is like this giant flywheel: this big, mechanical thing that's constantly spinning and spinning and spinning. And there's always stuff streaking off of it in all directions: words you can pun off of, phrasings you can reuse, metaphors you can grab and expand on.
One of the joys of improvised Shakespeare is that you get to play with the words you hear.
So: watch the flywheel. Delight in the flywheel. Let it surprise you.
For a visual manifestation of improv, I'd like to steal from Jim Libby.
There's a sign ahead that reads "FEAR." Follow it.