Roadblock?

It's been a while since I've written anything about improv. Every now and then I think of mentioning something, but the moment passes before I can get to the computer. Mostly right now, I'm just at a sucky point in the learning curve. My emotional connections have been tenuous, and I'm afraid I used up all my original ideas in a few workshops over the summer, because nothing is coming to me when I need it. On the best of days, I'll hit a couple high notes amid the white noise. Other times it just feels like I'm dead inside. It's been like this for several weeks now. Even when a show or a rehearsal goes pretty well overall, something's still not igniting the way it should.

I wonder if I didn't go into some form of shock when I started doing shows with H7, performing in front of an audience for the first time in years. During the months I played in rehearsal and took workshops with no intention to ever play in a show, everything was fine. I've spent most of my adult life as a behind-the-scenes person, and I thought it was what I preferred. I'm still not sure how much I really enjoy being onstage in front of people. The rush I was getting was from the scenes and games themselves, when they went well, not from the audience response. But I don't hate being onstage. That was a possibility for me. That's why the first show was terrifying - not the chance of screwing up, but the chance of discovering that I'd have been happier staying in the booth.

I'm pretty convinced that external stress factors into the equation. Now I'm doing what I can to alleviate it, and not bring it with me to rehearsal. Another epiphany there: while improv is generally a good stress-relieving activity, it is no match for some stress, and heavier artillery must be used on the stress in order not to fuck up the improv.

I do trust that if I keep working at it, I'll get through whatever the hell went off track. This isn't a position I've taken many times in my life... more often, I've taken the it's-time-to-do-something-else approach. Too many things to try in too short a life. But I don't think my shelf-life in improv is only a year. I don't believe that it will never be awesome again. There were too many times that improv felt like surfing (or, like I imagine surfing would feel).

So, I'm taking the Saturday class at the Roving Imp, rereading Truth In Comedy, and possibly revisiting The Artist's Way. More on that soon, it's an interesting book. Oh, and continuing to watch movies that get me in touch with my inner ass-kicker.