Oh the devil on your shoulder, that evil screaming voice demanding you mustn’t make that move. Firstly, as it’s the worst idea anyone could ever have, but mostly because everyone loathes you and wishes you would just stay quiet so they can have their onstage fun.

I think that most of us at some point or another feel the devil’s paralysing presence, and I for one have struggled frequently. “SO JUST GIVE UP, LOSER” (thanks voice). As I’ve decided not to give up, and well done you for not giving up either, it stands to reason that the next best thing is to try & at least turn down the volume of said demon.

An exercise I try & incorporate on the back line is rather than to try & angrily shut the voice up (which seems to only succeed in the opposite) I consciously acknowledge the tyrannical meanie, and then we have a conversation.

I literally say

“Oh hello, you again”

(insert abuse from red devil)

“OK, thanks very much for that.”

(Insert vicious and now very damning specifics about me from said devil)

“Are you helping me though? If I listen to you, will that help anyone really?”

(Insert bile, but maybe a sad look in the devil’s eyes)

“No? OK then, well you scream away & I’ll try & listen to my pals”

…and then I smile to help produce good chemicals. I imagine the ‘shake it off’ move after my dialogue with regard to shoving said voice off the shoulder cliff.

Over time this has really helped. The devil is not into you having fun. Do your best to laugh at his attempts to stop you enjoying yourself, he’s a little liar & he’ll hate that.

I have also been a big after-show apologiser, “Sorry I existed in that show, guys” or “Sorry I did that move & spoke, guys” which is another habit I’m trying to stop. It’s all part of the same ‘sorry I’m me’ disease. Partly, it’s because I love a post-show debate about the whats & wherefores of improv, and it feels like a way to open the dialogue in a non-confrontational way. BUT to open with a ‘sorry’ puts you on a lower status than that of your teammates – and that is not a healthy dynamic to encourage. I also have to check in with myself, what do I actually achieve by this? My scene partner is now sad as they thought we had a nice time, they also feel they now have to comfort and reassure me, which, by the way, they can never do, as I believe they are saying kind things as they are generous, rather than they could possibly believe I might on occasion be good. The glorious Briony Redman has told me I’m allowed 10 minutes after a show to be melancholy. THAT’S IT. Now, any sane human can see that’s too short a time, so I allow myself to stretch it to 15 and then shift my thoughts to:

"I did something brave, I tried my best and I’m sure I did something that helped someone else have fun at some point."

Turn your focus onto that if you can. Turn that into the big picture rather than the idealised dream of an ideal improv move that never was. Make the positive moment that existed the thing that you decide to take away from the show.

And sometimes that hellfire voice is too much and it does affect my play or, at the very least, certainly the fun I experience. Sometimes it’s because of the debris from the day or the vibe of the night or simply whether I've eaten. It’s a battle I keep having to fight, but sometimes I do indeed manage to squish the devil for a time. I try to remember the stakes are low. I think the voice may partly come from a primal reaction to keep us safe in the pack, to not take silly risks, to stay safe & small. So no wonder it’s screaming “STOP FOOL you’ll get stabbed with a spear if you go too far ridiculing the pack leader”. The voice keeps us from making mistakes that could harm us in the real world, so let’s remember they’re not all bad and are just doing their best too. Maybe tell them that.

“Thanks but I do not need you right now. Right now, what I need is to... (insert ludicrous notion that only an improviser would find hilarious and know that it’s also a very clever callback from at least 11 minutes previous)”.