How Improv Solved a Major Problem with My Novel
The protagonist must make a choice.
One of my favorite improv theater classes in the three years I’ve been an improviser was a class on narrative improv. I loved it so much I took it twice—and will probably take it again next year. The class teaches principles on how to improvise a full-length play: completely making up an entire story in real time—involving characters, plots, subplots, and a story arc.
In order to do this without creating utter chaos, the story has to have boundaries. My improv instructor described it like a bouncy house. The walls of a bouncy house allow you to go absolutely nuts inside. Ultimately, the walls of the bouncy house are what allow you to have fun. This is the function of boundaries for narrative.
One of the first principles of narrative improv is identifying the protagonist—the main character the story follows. But how do we know who the main character is when we’re making up the story on the spot?
We know who the main character is by who makes the first choice. Very specifically, the person who makes a choice that alters everyday reality. Once that choice is made on stage, all the players know whose story we’re telling. Everything else exists to tell that story—the story of that main character.
All of a sudden, I realized the origin of the main problem with my novel I’ve been writing for twelve years: my protagonist never makes choices that propel the story forward. She simply reacts to things happening to her.
So I, the author, made a choice.
I cut the first six chapters of my novel. Then I started the story with the protagonist’s choice. She continues to make choices throughout the story, propelling the narrative forward and making it very clear that this is her story—despite all of the terrible things that happen to her along the way.
She’s in charge. Therefore, she is the main character.
And lo and behold, the story became much stronger. And even though I already loved my protagonist, I began to like her so much more.
Our creative works often reflect the seasons of life we’re in. When I look at my previous version of the protagonist—the young girl who simply responds to the bad things happening to her—I realize that’s exactly who I was for most of my life: reacting, surviving, just trying to get to safety.
Present-day me is much more proactive (maybe that’s where we get the word pro-tagonist). I am an active participant in my own life. And even though bad things continue to happen beyond my control, I am never out of control. I’m consciously aware of my options, and I actively make choices to direct my life toward the life I want—both now and in the future.
I think that’s the difference between someone who is surviving and someone who is the main character of their own life. When we’re in survival, we’re mostly reacting—just trying to stay safe as horrible things happen. But once we reach safety, we can move out of survival and into creating the life we were always meant to live.
Cheers to your thriving. 🥂