Laughing in the face of fear

CamPlay
Cameron Algie started improvising at Second City Toronto 12 years ago. “I’m a completely different person now, thanks to improv,” he says. Photo credit: Adrianne Gagnon.

Someone once told me that if you’re scared to do something, that is the reason why you should do it. I forget who that person was (I have the memory of a chimpanzee), but their words stuck with me.

To kick things off, I spoke with Cameron Algie, an improviser in Toronto. Cameron teaches improv for anxiety at Second City Toronto and Play With Fire Improv. He also produces Laugh in the Face of Fear, a show based on the theme of anxiety. We caught up about his journey as an improviser and how it changed his life.

How did you get into improv?

I was seeing a therapist for my anxiety and any time he tried to get me to be vulnerable, I’d turn to joking and trying to lighten the mood. He laughed a couple of times, told me I was funny, and said I should take a Second City class. I took it as him listening to me talk about how I felt alone and scared and sick all the time and unable to leave my house, and his solution was to go be funny on a stage in front of hundreds of judgmental strangers. I thought it over, and stopped seeing that therapist. But he had planted the thought in my head. About six months after that, I hit emotional rock bottom, and decided there was really nothing left to lose, so I signed up for a class.  I hated the idea and improv scared the shit out of me. After a few classes, I started to love it.

What has the journey been like for you?

Literally life-changing. I mean, I used to be a copywriter in advertising. I would go to classes or shows after work each night. Then I started teaching classes after work. Eventually the scales started to tip. I remember leaving work one night to do a show and the shocked expression on people’s faces that I would dare leave when there was still work to get done. But I’d found a new priority. When I finally worked up the courage to get fired, I decided to make a go of improv as a career. I make less, but I’m way happier.

Side bar, I recently went back and did a corporate improv show for the agency that fired me.

And how has improv made an impact on your life?

I’m a completely different person now thanks to improv. For one, I used to be a huge asshole. My inner voice was so judgmental and harsh. If I messed up at all, even flubbed a word, my inner voice would say something like, “You stupid useless piece of shit, no wonder nobody loves you!” I got used to that voice. It was all I heard. So used to it, it started to become my voice. I spoke to others the way I would speak to myself. If an account person (advertising person between the creatives and the clients) messed up at all, I would say something charming like, “You useless piece of shit…”

But I really took to the acceptance part of improv. This is how this is. Instead of constantly trying to change it, just give over to it and go along for the ride. It softened me tremendously. My inner voice is very loving now, and my outer has changed too. I hope there are people who can’t imagine me being an asshole, as much as I accept that there are still people from my ad days who can’t imagine me ever even smiling. Also, I smile all the time now.

I can’t imagine you being an asshole. Has improv changed the way you feel about yourself?

I felt I had to be perfect all the time. To constantly be better than I was yesterday and always growing and improving. It was a lot of pressure. I hated it. I hated life. Improv showed me mistakes were okay. I struggled to make mistakes at first, but then really grew to understand that there really is no such thing in improv. If you mess up and call cars “carbs” then your team builds a world where people drive carbs, and other people are worried about their weight and can’t drive carbs. The play is really in the mistakes. That carried over into my life and I was able to beat myself up less when something went “wrong.”

That’s one rule of improv that stuck with me, It’s okay to make mistakes. Can you share a time you’ve messed up on stage and just rolled with it?

Oh man, probably thousands of times. None are popping into my head because they weren’t treated as mistakes, so they didn’t even register as one. I remember one time seeing someone stumble a bit getting onto the stage. Very embarrassing. For one second. Before the next player on the team also stumbled. Then the next teammate fell onto the ground. The rest of the team heightened till the audience was enjoying their “obviously pre-planned” stage entrance bit. Voila, no mistake!

I’m curious. Can you tell us about a particularly weird scene you’ve been in?

That’s the thing about improv, it’s mostly weird. But not weird. I’ve played a feather boa constrictor, driven a bathtub car, had laser legs, and a whole bunch of other crazy shit, but they all felt normal in the context of the scene.

Any tips for other folks who may want to try improv?
I feel like I should know how to answer this.
    • Bring a friend. I brought Sally and my buddy Tom to my first Second City class and it helped having them there.
    • Go see a show. The first improv show I saw (Catch 23 at Clinton’s) blew my mind. I actually said, “I could never do that.” But there was something that seemed so cool about it.
    • Try a drop-in. It can feel scary to commit to a full class, but improvising for a couple of hours makes it feel more doable.
    • Try improv by yourself or with a friend. There are resources out there that have lists of improv games.
    • Just practice playing. Board games, sports, any of the 365 ways to play on Instagram at @PlayWithFireImprov.
    • Know that you don’t have to be funny and you’re not expected to be good. It’s a class, meaning you’re there to learn. And you’re not there to get good at improv, you’re there to get okay with not being good at something.
    • The class itself isn’t scary, but the idea of it is, so most of the fear will come before the class. The hardest part is walking through that door the first time. So maybe sign up at the last minute. That way you’re not signing up two months before and then waiting and imagining all kinds of things for weeks before you go do it. Decide to do a drop-in that night.
    • Also go to the place where you’re thinking of doing a drop-in or class, and check out the space or see a show. Having that familiarity will make it easier the next time you go.
    • Breathe.

Where can we see you on stage?

Gonna plug my own show here: Laugh in the Laugh-in-Face-of-Fear-Feb-e1488170420246.jpgFace of Fear. There’s a free drop-in beforehand for anxious people who’d like to try improv but are scared to sign up a full improv class. Third Tuesday of every month, 8pm, at The Social Capital.

Other than that, I don’t have a ton of regular shows. Come see S&P whenever we perform. And Booze Clues and Blast from the Past, and any show that invites me to come play. Follow me on Twitter? Don’t, I don’t use Twitter.

Thanks so much for sharing, Cameron! You heard him, folks. Follow him on Twitter.

Laughter is definitely the best medicine

Sam improv 2

We’ve all heard the old adage “Laughter is the best medicine.” For me, it holds true.

You would think getting into improv would be one of the last things I would want to do, especially as someone who suffers from generalized anxiety and depression. Talk about uncertainty.

For years, I was struggling. I was unhappy. My therapist has called it dysthymia, a mild but chronic depression.

As far as I’m concerned, I’ve faced elements of depression, anxiety, obsessive thoughts and hypersensitivity. There have been occasions when I would be afraid to leave the house over a debilitating fear that something bad may happen. There have been occasions when I’ve cried myself to sleep. There have been occasions when I felt as though I didn’t want to live. There have been occasions where I’ve felt unloved and I put a smile on my face even though I was not smiling on the inside. I was isolating myself and pushing people away. I was unhappy. I was anxious. No one around me even knew — at least, I think they didn’t know.

I knew I wanted to change. I sought help. I opened up to my friends and family about how I was feeling — I still remember the look on my mom’s face when I told her how unhappy I was.

I also wanted to branch out and find new interests. Last year, I decided to take the improv for anxiety class at Second City Toronto.

At first, I was terrified at the thought of doing improv. But I decided to jump in. One of the first icebreaker games we played was penguin tag, which is exactly as it sounds; it’s tag but you waddle like a penguin as you play. It was fun.

I immediately loved this new world I got into. I loved jumping into scenes. I loved making a fool of myself (something I do quite a bit of anyways). I loved the community of interesting and supportive people.

For the next eight months after that, I found myself taking more classes and getting more involved in the improv community. Now, I even joined an improv troupe (suitably named Coffee Breath) and started performing.

Over the past year, I realized just how much improv has improved my wellbeing. Naturally, the more I got into it, the better I started to feel about myself. I was feeling confident. I was having fun. Here are a few takeaways that I’ve picked up through improv:

You learn how to stay mentally present.

A constant struggle for people with anxiety is staying in the moment. I mean, it’s hard to keep your focus when you’re constantly worrying about something. One of the first games we played in class, called Red Ball, incorporated the need to stay focused. Actually, it’s a lot like mindfulness.

You learn how to cope with – even embrace – uncertainty.

Improv is about dealing with the unexpected. After all, everything is made up on the spot. When you struggle with anxiety, this might be your worst nightmare. But trust me: it teaches you to tolerate and even welcome uncertainty. Uncertainty keeps things interesting and improv teaches you to have fun with it.

Your presence alone is enough.

In improv, it doesn’t really matter what we say or do, so long as we’re there to keep things moving – even if it moves in another direction. While we may doubt ourselves or question our worth in our daily lives, sometimes our presence alone is enough.

It’s actually okay to make mistakes.

Mistakes aren’t just tolerated in improv. They’re celebrated.  Improv is mostly about being weird and silly anyways. And every mistake is an opportunity.  It’s how we learn and grow.

You learn self-awareness.

Improv teaches us to be in touch with our emotions. In my first class, we started off by simply walking around the room and paying attention to our breathing. Then our instructor asked us to make eye contact with others as we’re walking. Then, she asked us to wink at them. Finally, she asked us to stop and scream (and quite loudly) to each other. With each layer added, we paid attention to how our breathing changed and how we felt. She asked us how to embrace our anxieties and our vulnerabilities.

Don’t get me wrong, I still struggle but I’m okay with that. Thanks to improv, I’m okay with the uncertainty. And hey, there’s always penguin tag.