Improv in business

It’s no surprise – learning the practices of improvisation, has transformed the way I work, the way I facilitate, the way I relate to others, my outlook and my approach. Big claims? You bet.

The internet enables us to find others who share this passion for improv. This is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because we can find others who share this belief that improv is a fundamental skill for navigating the uncertainty of the world, and a curse because it may lull us into a believing that improv is now mainstream in business. Not yet. Definitely not yet. Using improv in business settings is still at the edge.

So I’m delighted to find this selection of essays about improv in business compiled by Ian Gotts and John Cremer. It is a cracker. If you’ve ever wondered what all the fuss is about, and why you should consider improv – in any context – it’s worth a read. Lots of examples and case studies and different applications of improv.

And if you’d like to explore applied improv – or improv in business, communities and organisations – closer to home (if home is Australia ofc), early bird registration is now open for AIN Downunder, right here in Melbourne , July 12 & 13.

The joy of work

Reader warning: self reflection

In the last couple of weeks my extraversion muscle has been stretched to its limit. It’s interesting to notice our own limits. I am now revelling in complete isolation. My partner is off cycling and I’m alone, completely alone and with few demands on my time and energy. It’s rejuvenating. It won’t last either. Soon I will crave the company of others, the warmth of real human bodies and people I can touch and relate to in a different way to how I reach out here on the internet.

I’m conscious of this rythym, this ebb and flow of being with, and being away from, people. A friend said to me recently that, given my need to be alone to recuperate, it’s an odd choice to be a facilitator, to put myself in front of groups of people. The thing is, I love it. I love being with groups, in front of groups, performing, being challenged, meeting people, seeing their delight, their anxiety turn to engagement, and sometimes, even joy. My personal aim is to bring more joy to my work, for myself and others.

It takes a long time to know yourself well, to know your limits, your strengths, the buttons that  activate sometimes outrageous responses. We’re all still learning this together, right? In moments of doubt, I tell myself I know how to do this. It helps.

It also helps to have perspective. To know what really matters and what’s really important. In the build up to a big event, in the moment of standing in front of a hundred or so people, it can appear that this is what’s really important, that the world might actually stop if I stuff this up. It won’t. The world will hardly notice. In fact, many of the people in the room will hardly notice. That’s humbling. That’s perspective.

Like you, I’ll do my best. Sometimes my best is better than even I imagined. Sometimes it’s just good enough. Sometimes it’s not good at all. Surprise! We’re human. We’re vulnerable, we’re fallible, we’re inconsistent, we have emotions.

And then there are friends. When the work fades away to just a memory of just another event, the friends we’ve made along the journey remain. Now that’s joy.

Being on the receiving end of ‘make your partner look good’

Last week I had the privilege of working with a couple of people who – probably even unknown to themselves – epitomised the principle of ‘make your partner look good’. I was that partner, on the receiving end. I can’t yell you what a joy it is to work with people like this. Reinforces for me how important it will be for me, in the future, to make my partner look good too, whoever it is I’m working with. Oh, and it helps a LOT if you like, maybe even love each other a little, admire each other’s work, trust each other and just like hanging out together. How different could work be if we sought out those people who helped us be ourselves and do our best work?

Make your partner look good

This is one my favourite improv principles. It’s just so obvious – focus on making others look good. It’s about shifting the focus from yourself to others, and being concerned more about the overall outcome – whether that’s a performance, a workshop, a show, a presentation, or a conference.

Speaking of conferences, it’s the last three days for super early bird registration for AIN Downunder. You can help make the conference look good by showing up and making us all look good! Go here to register.

It’s gonna be amazing! We’ll explore how to use the principles of improvisation to bring more spontaneity, and effectiveness, to your work and life.

Asking for help

I quite enjoy helping others. I’m not so good at asking for help. From an improv perspective it’s like making offers – asking for help is making an offer to the world. And boy, does it pay back big time.

Those of you reading this blog recently will know I’m in foreign parts designing a biggish two-day event. Those of you who know me well will know that I’m never satisfied, always looking for new (and rediscovering forgotten) ideas. And those of you who know me even better will know I’d give my right arm to have a facilitation buddy or two to hang out with, toss about ideas, egg each other on. Sigh.

So I’ve turned to the next best thing, all you good folk in internet land. Some of you I know, some I’ve never met. I’ve no idea how many of you read my blog (I know, I know – there’s something I could do with google analytics to find out and, well, I really don’t care that much and I’ve never been that big into numbers. Are you out there Stephen?). If I’m only talking to myself, that’s quite okay – it gets my thoughts out of my head and on to the screen where at least I don’t forget them.

I try stuff. I like blogging. I like twitter. Facebook’s okay. Don’t mention google+ (makes me feel guilty), I’ve tried amplify, and instgram, I’ve lost count of my email addresses (they all go via gmail anyway), I quite like rapportive, I’ve just joined pin-somethingorother, I have a neglected flickr account, I think I have a YouTube channel, I subscribe to my favourite bloggers and thinkers, I just LOVE Skype – I could go on, obviously. What’s that? What about LinkedIn? Well, of course I’m on LinkedIn – I just don’t know how to use it that well. Then, in a little burst of activity towards the end of last year I created a LinkedIn Group. Wow! Just wow! I had no idea. It’s not a big group, less than 200 people – but what a generous and creative bunch.

And what I’ve learned from having a LinkedIn group is that it’s not about leading with answers – it’s about leading with questions. Real questions. Making big, bold offers by asking for help. Who knew?

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

I’m in a foreign country, working with my client, to prepare for a two-day facilitated event with 150 or so people from multiple countries and organisations. While many things are familiar, I’m very conscious that I’m not at home. I received an email from the Australian Government alerting me to some imminent dangers, someone tried to snatch my shopping, and I’m hearing lots of people speaking languages I don’t know. It’s not uncomfortable per se, just a little bit unnerving.

Which is probably how many people feel coming into an event, a workshop or a conference. It’s why people often demand a detailed agenda – a sort of safety net – to be assured that they have some sense of what’s going to happen. So if it’s assurance and safety and a sense of well-being that people want, maybe we can provide that without the traditional agenda?

I’m not a fan of detailed agendas. I think they provide a false sense of security, the illusion that someone is in control and knows what is going to happen from moment to moment. The best workshops and events are emergent, building on what comes from the previous sessions rather than a sausage machine that churns out some pre-determined outcome – or in the worst cases, seats people in rows for hour upon hour while they are force fed information, with little or no interactive and engagement.

Yet it is still important to give people coming to this unusual, out-of-the ordinary event some sense of what’s going to happen and how they are expected to show up. I’m often called in too late to have impact on how this is done, yet there are still some ways of creating a welcoming and sense of comfort with a dash of curiosity and surprise.

Pre-event logistics: Anyone who travels a lot knows how useful it is to have information about the country you are travelling to, it’s entry requirements, how to get from the airport to the venue, what the climate is like, the local customs, where to change money, what to watch out for etc.

Welcome Pack: When checking in to the venue it’s nice to receive (or if the hotel is really good, find in your room) an individualised welcome pack that includes some up-to-date information about timings, where to go for breakfast and dinner, a map of the venue, a local map, and a treat – a sweet or chocolate. This signals that the organisers know you are coming, and that, well, you’re welcome!

Active Hosting: I learnt this from my friend Anne Pattillo who is a master at active hosting. I’m not so good, but I’m learning to do it in short bursts and to recruit others to help. It’s making sure people are greeted when they enter the workshop or conference space. It’s obvious, but it confirms they are in the right place and helps them navigate the space.

When I travel in foreign airports, I often lose the ability to read signs. I know, it’s weird. I put it down to a combination of tiredness, tinged with anxiety. Sometimes it’s not even that. The signs might be ambiguous or misleading. So I’m always looking for someone to ask. There’s something so much more personal about someone explaining where to go, compared with standing bewildered wondering what to do next. We should try and avoid people feeling this way at conferences.

Identity, Connection, Action: I learnt this from my other friend Antony Williams (seems I’m always learning from my friends). This is a nice little reminder about what people need when they enter a group for the first time: they want to be recognised first as an individual (name tags and individualised materials help); then they want to find out who else they know in the room and to connect, and who they might like to know, and connect in some way; and finally they like to move into some action that is relevant to the reason why they have come together.

Creating a memorable conference

I opened a newspaper and there was a photo of Yosemite National Park. I’ve been to Yosemite once, for a few days. The place was instantly recognisable. It strikes me time and again how easy it is to recognise a place that I have physically visited. There is some visceral memory. There is something about place, and relationship to something outside of ourselves that creates, and embeds, memory.

I’m asking myself what makes a memorable conference? If you attend many conferences, what memories come to mind? Which events come back with enormous clarity, and why? What conferences do you talk about long after they were done?

I have a few theories based on a research sample of one.*

Sense of place
Not all venues are created equal. Memorable events have light, space, a vibe, connections with nature, provide an opportunity to stare into the middle distance (maybe even fuelling daydreams) and are a part of the place, not apart from.

Involving all the senses
Hearing and seeing are well catered for in most conferences. Our other senses not so much. Smell – the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee; the smell of jasmine flowers wafting on the breeze; the salt smell of the ocean. Touch – the feel of lovingly crafted and carved talking stick; of a notebook that is bound in linen and embossed. Taste – of the flavours of the place, of freshness. And even hearing and seeing can be enhanced – colours, beautiful pictures, the sounds of nature, singing, silence. The best conferences I remember through all of my senses.

Connection is as important as content
After I’ve been to a great conference I’m likely to chatter incessantly about all the great people I met and what new stuff I learned. Without the connection, and the ability to reference what I’m learning to who I’m learning it from, I’m likely to forget.

Pace and movement
Not too rushed, not too slow, and plenty of time for conversations to develop beyond the superficial. Long breaks. Long enough to grab a coffee, and check messages, and visit the bathroom, and talk to people. And movement, not just sitting all day.

STAR – Something They will Always Remember (hat tip Nancy Duarte)
Something quirky, something unexpected. Like 200 people doing James Bond Aerobics, or group singing on the New York subway, or a presentation that moved you to tears, or ginormous bubbles that did nothing more than make you smile a lot.

What makes a conference memorable for you?

*That would be one person, not one conference.

It’s all about movement

“People learn a new language more easily when words are accompanied by movement.”

New Scientist, Issue 2844/2845 Dec 2011.

I’ve written before about the importance of physical movement, and how this is integral to how I facilitate.

I love this card because it reminds me to move my body, and to provide opportunities for people to move when they meet rather than sit in a passive state for long stretches. It’s ambiguous too – because it also reminds me to move and be moved – emotionally. Physical and emotional movement is equally important, and often equally ignored.

So in designing an event build in physical movement, and think about the emotional journey of participants. What will move them? What will touch them emotionally? What will create a shift or a disruption?

We live in an ‘either’ – ‘or’ world. Time to embrace ‘yes, and…’

The conversation went something like this.

Me: I’m thinking of getting an e-reader, probably a kindle. It means I can carry lots of books with me and always have something to read. And it looks kinda cool.

Friend 1: Oh, no, I could never use an e-reader. I like books. Paper books.

Friend 2: Me too. I would never use one of those. I like books.

End of conversation.

I never said I was giving up paper books. I like books too. I like to write in the margins. I like to pile them up in my office, to sit on the floor surrounded by them looking for just the right quote or paragraph (this is how serendipity happens for me). And…, I want an e-reader.

Sure, life is about making choices. Sometimes it’s not possible to do both, to be in two places at once, to buy both frocks.

And it’s also about knowing when the choice is not black or white. It’s about being mindful of what’s possible, of noticing your first response and allowing other responses in before jumping to a conclusion. I know I’ve forgotten to ‘yes, and…’ when I start with a No. No, I couldn’t do that. No, it wouldn’t work. No, that’s wrong. No, I don’t like that idea.

Adopting a ‘yes, and…’ mindset is all about accepting offers. You don’t need to like the offer, or even follow-through. It’s about the initial moment of acceptance rather than rejection. It’s about seeing that there’s more to making a choice than it’s either this or it’s either that. It’s about noticing the offer in what others say and do. Sometimes it’s hard to notice an offer – it’s a small offer, or it’s tentative, or it’s hidden amongst a whole lot of noise. Make big offers yourself. Notice the offer in what others say and do.

To accept is such a gift. To be accepted is such an honour.

Just another New Year’s post

It’s hot. That’s not a metaphor. It’s really, really hot. Too hot for the beach. It’s also the day after New Year’s Day. It’s my friend Vera’s birthday. She says it’s the worst day of the year to have a birthday. Everyone wants a rest from celebrating, and tomorrow, for many, it’s back to work.

As I write this the north wind is blowing hard. It’s a hot wind. It’s a nasty wind. It carries bush flies from the north to the coast. It’s the wind that fuels fires. On days like these we scan the horizon for smoke, sniff the air suspiciously, check on-line to see if there’s any fires to worry about. It’s not a restful time.

On the crowded beaches, the sand blows on days like these. And beach umbrellas are a hazard. Little hot box shelters that people now bring to the beach are set up to provide some shade, but no relief from the heat. The only relief from the heat is in the water. And the water is cold. It’s the Southern Ocean after all. Some people inch their way into the water, bit by bit. I like to dive straight in, to feel the shock of the cold water on my hot skin, to feel the relief, to taste the salt on my lips.

Not today though. It’s too hot for the beach.

I’m excited about the first three months of 2012. After that I’m not sure what will happen. Nothing, or something. I’m hosting a conference in July. I’m helping friends with other events later in the year. I’d like to find a way to live overseas for a year or more. I like to notice what energises me and do more of that (hint – it’s mostly things that are unconventional). I want to be with people who are creative, have ideas, are a little bit (or a whole lot) weird, a bit vulnerable and are doing things I wish I’d thought of.

I see no reason to change my mantra from the last few months that has served me well:

Show Up. Be Present. Jump In.

There. That’s my New Year post done. We will now resume normal operations.