I’m just back from a day spent in Hockley’s Blue Orange Theatre, where I’ve been taking part in a ‘Comedy Improv’ workshop.

I booked onto it a couple of weeks ago as I need to get back into ‘performing’ if I want to do some more stand-up this year, and thought this would be a great way to throw off the inhibitions and get a sense of what it’s like to stand up in front of people again.

There were 18 of us on the workshop, and the set-up was very simple – a large wooden-floored room with 18 chairs, and 18 willing participants of various ages; mostly male, and not all of whom were new to improv. There was a sprinkling of comedians (the correct collective noun, I think you’ll find) as well as a couple of people who you could definitely describe as ‘theatre types’, more of whom later.

The day was spent playing various ‘games’, some of which were physical, and some of which – mostly later in the day – were more verbally challenging. Some of the games were played standing in a circle, some were played in smaller groups, in some we were partnered up in twos, and some involved standing in front of the others and performing, mostly as a small group, but also individually.

One of the main lessons of the day was not to think ahead. Anything we did, whether it was making up a story, saying random words to each other, making up a group poem or talking gibberish (literally) was to come from ‘the moment’; anything that was pre-planned, even by a few seconds, was off-limits. The idea was to let the spontaneous nature of our brains explore the possibilities without filtering out stuff. Doing this when you are worried about making a fool of yourself is impossible, so that particular concern also had to be banished from our minds.

Now, I have to make an admission here: I’m not a particular fan of improv as a form of comedy. To me, it has always been a poor relation of other forms of comedy in terms of the extent to which it can make me laugh. Some modern sitcoms that have improvised dialogue are superb; ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ and ‘The Thick of It’ are two fine examples – but they have a defined structure on which the improv is hung. Improv in itself is, for me as an observer, a bit too hit and miss.

I knew I would enjoy taking part, though, because the MAC stand-up course included some similar inhibition-shedding games which I loved. The big question for me, though, was whether improv in itself would provide a new creative outlet, or just a bit of fun for a day.

On the MAC stand-up course, the improv games were used as a warm-up, and that’s kind of how I felt about the day; that, although enjoyable, it wasn’t creatively satisfying in itself. I could quite easily have left at lunchtime and felt that I’d done enough gibberish-talking and running about.

Improv is almost the total opposite to stand-up in terms of the way it is created. With improv, you empty your mind of ideas and do what comes naturally in the moment. With stand-up, you write material, hone it, practice it, perform it, practice and hone it some more, perform it again, and so on. Writing is as much of the process as delivering it. And that’s most likely the reason why improv doesn’t ‘do it’ for me.

That said, the course was terrific fun, and the day flew by. I think that 18 people was a little high for a beginners’ course; one activity called for individuals to stand up in front of the group and make up a 2-3 minute story from two suggested objects – quite intimidating for a newbie. Those theatre types I mentioned earlier were clearly closer to the centre of their comfort zones than the rest of us; there is an undefinable quality they have that just oozes the ‘theatrical’. It’s something to do with projecting the voice, I think, but along-side is a quality that’s simply indescribable. It could be a lack of inhibition.

I would also have preferred a smaller group because it’s easier to get to know each other, which I feel is important on a course like this. There was no ‘introductions’ activity, nor any name badges (which were mentioned as a possibility, but only as an aid for the facilitator!)

The facilitator clearly knew his stuff, and the course was well-organised. He gave honest feedback after the activities, which was occasionally rather brutal in that he didn’t hold back with criticism when the improv ‘ethos’ was breached. He was good-natured and supportive, however, and clearly loves what he does.

So, on my quest – started at the beginning of 2011 – to discover whether I am more of a writer or a performer, I have an answer. Writing – or more generally preparation – is more important to me than performance alone. However, that doesn’t necessarily provide a final answer. Because I know from previous experience that writing alone is not enough either. The process can be arduous, and very often you don’t have full control over the finished product, which is something I need for it to be creatively fulfilling.

So probably the best description I could give myself is a ‘writer/performer’. And I’m happy with that; it means I have a lot of options, although it also means I end up being jack of all trades and… well, you know the rest. I certainly do have difficulty focusing on one area, which slows down the rate at which I can improve because I’m always learning new stuff to a limited degree rather than attaining full mastery. I’m having fun in the process, but it’s never going to make me a millionaire.

If you have the chance to go on an improv workshop, my advice would be to go. Even if you have no ambition to perform, you will enjoy reverting to behaving like a child in the playground; running about, shouting, pretending to be someone or something else, and having a good laugh at yourself and others. And doing something quite out of the ordinary like that for pleasure alone is very liberating, both for mind and body.

The workshop was run by ‘Box of Frogs’ – their group meets every Tuesday at St Columba church hall in Moseley and they give regular performances at The Lamp Tavern in Digbeth, Birmingham. You can watch videos and find out more at: http://wp.me/1modV