Kill Your Darlings, Just Not All of Them

thomas-jefferson-kill-your-darlings

In improv, we’re often told to drop our ideas and go with our scene partners’ instead. But how much should we discard? I’m here to argue that you should only throw away what doesn’t work.

“Yes, And” Circle

Here’s an exercise (credit to Patrick Gantz from Improv Does Best):

Stand in a circle. One improviser labels an imaginary object at the center of the circle (“there is a toaster”). The next player then describes a physical characteristic of the item. Newer students should use the phrase, “yes, and” before each descriptor (“yes, and it is silver”).

Play continues around the circle until everyone has described the item. Be sure that each new characteristic doesn’t undo a previous one (if someone says it’s silver, it can’t also be red. Unless it has racing stripes). By the time we get back to the first player, we’ll have a fully-formed mental image of what this toaster looks like. This is a great exercise to teach agreement, building on others’ ideas, and to not be too precious about your own. Teachers often borrow the phrase “kill your darlings” from writing advice as a shorthand for this.

However, I also think it’s a great exercise for experienced improvisers that can help us find more rich and interesting scenes. To explain why, I need you to play along.

Keeping What Works

In a few moments, I’m going to type a word. You can probably already see that word if you’re reading this on a standard computer monitor.

Statistically, you’re probably reading this on mobile.

What I want you to do is to read that word and then instantly picture it in your mind.

It’s a word you’re familar with.

You maybe even used one today.

And, if you live in America, you’ll almost definitely use one soon.

I put all these sentences on different lines to push the word down the page far enough for mobile users that they can’t see it. Sorry if it’s clunky.

Ready?

Ok.

The word is…

CAR

Quick! what kind of card did you picture?

  • What color is it?
  • How many doors?
  • Is it old or new?
  • Is it a specific make or model?
  • Does it have any distinguishing features?
  • Where is the car?

When you read the word car, you likely imagined some kind of car, maybe even in a specific place or scenario. Whether you had answers to all these questions answered already, you definitely imagined a car with some specific features or qualities. My car is a cherry red ’67 Chevy Camaro with a lightning bolt down the side and whitewall tires.

Now, let’s say we’re running this exercise off the suggestion of “car” and the person before me says “it’s a PT Cruiser”. Well, dang. That’s not the car I envisioned. I need to go with their idea. But wait!

The only part of my car that I need to get rid of is the “1967 Chevy Camaro” part, since nothing else conflicts with what’s been said. Kill your darlings, yes, but don’t throw out your entire idea. “It’s cherry red with a lightning bolt down the side.” Now we’re cooking with gas and building a PT Cruiser that’s never been built before.

Killing Thomas Jefferson

You’ve gotten a suggestion from the audience (“writer’s block”) and stepped into a scene. You’ve imagined yourself as Thomas Jefferson writing the Declaration of Independence . You mime dipping your quill pen over and over with frustration. “Curses, ink’s gone dry,” you mumble. Your scene partner steps into the scene and hands you a pen. “They keep spare clicky pens next to the copy machine,” she says.

Great, you think. I was imagining a quill pen but my scene partner has put me in a modern office–But wait!–There’s no reason I can’t keep the rest of my idea in the scene–the only thing that doesn’t make sense is Thomas Jefferson!

“Thanks, Tonya. Now I can finish ‘Dave’s Declaration of Independence’. It’s time for this company to change.”

Now, I personally haven’t watched a scene where an office worker declares independence from their boss. I’m sure it’s been done. But you can see how keeping some of my original idea intact immediately led to a vastly more interesting scene right from the jump. By keeping some of my original idea we can avoid just another plain office interaction scene.

What do you think? I’m personally building an entire workshop around this idea currently. If you have any thoughts, sound off in the comments below!

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About Me

I’m an improv coach and performer in Orange County, CA. I love playing chess, guitar, and I’m a fan of the Oxford comma.

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