So …

I had a bad show.

More than that, I made bad choices and I didn't listen to my scene partner. It's one thing to be generally aware that you didn't do your best work and quite another when you pinpoint your failings to a specific scene.

It's humbling. I'm teaching so much at the moment and being a teacher means repeating best practice to your students over and over again in ever more thrilling and inventive ways.

I know how to create a good improv scene. I really do. And it's galling that in this particular instance I failed to do it. I had an idea in my head about what the scene was and I kept that image burning bright. I then proceeded to play that scene rather than the one I was actually in. And that was a problem because everyone else could see the difference quite clearly. It's embarrassing when you become that disconnected from a show (and too in love with your own ideas).

Nevertheless, my scene partner handled the situation with real skill. He dropped the idea that he had established, grasped instantly my intention and played along most graciously. He did this so skilfully, in fact, that I didn't even notice I had completely misjudged the scene. It was up to my coach at the end of the show to tactfully suggest that perhaps I could have listened a bit more fully? Been more present in the moment?

Ultimately, of course, this is all a good thing. Any time you mess up is an opportunity for growth as long as you take the note. My friend Katy wrote an excellent article about it. And FUN FACT - the inciting incident in that blog is also me not listening and subtly arguing with the coach (although she anonymises me because she is a nice person). Eventually, I took the note about taking the note and I'll take the note from my coach now.

And it's not hypocritical, as a teacher, to get things wrong when you spend every day telling your students to run towards failure - to embrace it as a friend and instructor. Getting things wrong means you stepped up and tried something.

Acknowledging that mistake gives you the chance to grow.

And next time I have the pleasure of improvising with my team, you can bet I'll be there - mind blank, ears open ... ready to play the scene I'm actually in.

(and I'll undoubtedly mess up in a different, even more thrilling and inventive way, but that's the gig, right? It's how we get better.)