The Agreement Principle

The “Yes, And” Post

I can’t possibly write about improvisational theater without discussing “Yes And”, our art form’s simple two word mantra, layered in complexity. While it’s a foundational element in the art of improvisation, it’s also a pillar in all collaborative work that underpins a variety of industries and artistic mediums. A concept that intertwined needs to be discussed!

And, it has been.

Repeatedly.

By many different authors, artists, philosophers, teachers, and drunks.

Yes, and… here is yet another hot take.

(I couldn’t resist. First and last one, I promise.)

A New Player Has Entered The Game

Why am I writing about it now? What do I possibly have to say, what interesting angle am I taking? Well, first off, let’s not be so aggressive. I’ll tell you why. After performing, directing, and teaching improv for over 25 years, I’ve performed, watched, dissected, theorized, and discussed whole lifetimes of improv theater. And in doing so, I’ve come to realize quite a bit about our unconscious tendencies as artists in this medium of Adult Make Believe ©. As performers, improvisors tend to favor silly, sarcastic characters over dramatic, honest vulnerability. We typically choose to focus on our own dialogue more than anything else in these self created worlds. As a result, we often ignore our interactions with the environment we’re creating. And a whole lot of us are quick to argue, relying on conflict to make the improv scene good. This third behavior is the focus of this essay and has led me to what I refer to as The Agreement Principle, an expansion of our famous motto, “Yes And”. Side bar: I have already written an essay on our tendency of ignoring our environments. It’s on my Substack if you’d like to read it: On The Importance of Object Work

There is a never ending debate on what makes something funny already raging in our culture. I am not about to wade into that mine field. Honestly, I don’t think there is a single universal answer to that question. Dipping a little pinky toe in the mine field, I’ll just offer “context” as my over-simplified answer. But it’s way deeper than that, of course, and deserves its own much longer post. Instead, I am focusing myopically on what makes an improvised scene have the best potential to be successful, or what we commonly refer to as “good”. The difference is more than semantics, I promise.

In this art form of improvisational theater, I subscribe to the philosophy that funny is not the goal of our scenes, rather engaging entertainment is. “Comedy is a side effect of good improv,” I tell my students, echoing a phrase I stole directly from the amazing teacher and performer, Rachael Mason. She further explained laughter is one of many emotional responses that an audience can give during a phenomenal improvisational show. I’ve been involved with or seen many shows that elicited many emotional reactions from the audience. Sure, it’s more often laughter we hear than wails of sadness. But I believe that’s more about how we humans protect our emotional core with laughter in moments of the unknown.

Defining Successful Improv

It’s important I lay out what I mean by successful. I offer that for improv to be successful, it has to be fun for the artist and engaging to the audience. If the artist is not having fun, as determined by that artist, the result is strained, forced, and unnatural. The improvisor tends to be self involved on stage, unaware of partners, and unable to support existing or emerging patterns. And if the audience is not engaged in the improv, they will not invest emotional energy or suspend disbelief long enough to derive any entertainment value. I do want to note that I’m using “fun” as a catch all for many different artistic pursuits in this medium. The sub-genre of Dramatic Improv finds their fun in a totally different way than artists working in the sub-genre of Short Form Improv. In a similar way, “engaged” is used to allow for all manner of responses from the audience. But it begins with them caring enough about the show to pay attention. Interestingly enough, I have found that these qualities of successful improv, fun for the artist and engaging for the audience, strengthen and develop each other. If the audience is super into the show, the performer tends to have more fun. And if the performers are having a great time, the audience usually is leaning in.

I feel I need to add that trying to define what makes improv successful is sort of like trying to define what makes it funny: there can be many different definitions from many different perspectives. I can already hear people trying to poke holes in my ideas with a nasally, “But what about…?”, while pushing their pantomimed nerd glasses back up the bridge of their nose. As a defense, I intentionally left these definitions vague and open to cover all varieties of artists and audiences. If you disagree, I would love to hear about it! I am nerdy enough to appreciate a good improv discussion. Please feel free to leave a comment.

Wasn’t This About Yes And?

To begin unpacking how Yes, And plays a part in all of this, I want to start with a quick breakdown of what improv is and get to why Yes And was even developed by the pioneers of the art.

Since our art form is creating something from nothing (or very little), a lot of early practitioners encountered different roadblocks to creating improv they felt was successful. I am not launching into a history of improv as it’s not needed for this essay. I derive this and all my improv theories from personal experience in this art and from decades of training rooted in Spolin’s Improvisation for the Theater and well versed in every level of its evolution in the Chicago scene. I am not claiming to be an expert on history, but I am claiming an extensive familiarity with the subject.

When performers first started creating improvised scenes, they often had more starting information than we use today. These scenarios were created from more in depth given circumstances, often not simply a location but a defined relationship, character motivations, and even outcomes for the scene. As time went on and this art changed hands and evolved, performers have shed a lot of the preplanned aspects that once started each scene. In many sub-genres, like Short Form and Long Form, there is a very structured planned order that players create within. In other sub genres, there can be a known end, defined characters, and even predetermined chapters or sections. Many Narrative and Genre Emulators sub genres have these elements to reproduce the qualities needed to be accurate to the narrative or genre format.

All of these forms, sub-genres, and artist collectives had this in common: They have to use some level of agreement for their improv to be successful. If we are creating something new together with some partial or fully unknown elements, we have to agree at some level on something. This was the birth of “Yes” in improv. But, as the very first artists started to create this modern improv, they quickly began to realize it wasn’t enough to just agree. We also have to add on to each other's offerings. Thus, the “And” portion was discovered. Putting the two together laid the foundation for all improv to come. I am simplifying the creation of this core concept of course, but I feel somewhat justified since “Yes, And” is already a simplified version of the concept it’s meant to represent anyway.

For my purposes, I like to rewrite Yes, And as “The Agreement Principle”, a phrase I picked up at some point in my training. I’ve defined the principle with three points that I feel are way more representative of what Yes And is actually trying to convey.

The Agreement Principle

1. Once something is established as reality, we should not deny that reality.

2. No isn’t always denying reality.

3. Yes isn’t always supporting reality.

It’s worth noting: this principle does not limit itself simply to our dialogue, but extends to all aspects of the improvised scene; object work, character work, environment work, and the dialogue are elements of the shared reality we create. There are a lot of ways we can agree on stage. Verbally or through dialogue is just one.

For this essay, I’m really only touching on the first point of the principle about established reality. The second and third points are equally important to the full principle, however discussing them with enough depth to be thorough would need at least another full post, if not two or three. [Note to self: Are you starting a book on improv here, Micah? Maybe I am, self, maybe I am…]

This is as good a place as any in this essay to acknowledge that I have an improv bias since my training and performance style of improvisational theatre is rooted squarely in Chicago Style Improv ©. Consequently, all my improv musings are grown in that creative stew. That being said, I 100% believe this Agreement Principle applies to all improvisational theater, including the many long forms I perform and teach, from Harold to Montage to The Deconstruction to The La Ronde to Close Quarters. It even applies to the thousands of short form games I have played, created, and taught in my time. Many short form games have built in elements that could be seen to contradict this idea. I can promise you they don’t. Not really. Ultimately, I’ll leave the discrepancies up to the reader to work out, but I welcome comments below.

Reckless Agreement

I have come to understand that the early appearance of arguments and conflicts between the characters in the scene are almost certainly invented by the improvisor seeking a clearer understanding of what is expected of them. Whether unconsciously or purposefully done, it’s easy to see the appeal of that tactic when we are swimming in a sea of make believe. Especially if you feel like you’re drowning! However, I have found that resisting that urge to force “Me Vs You” into every scene leads more frequently to that goal of successful improv. I teach this element as Reckless Agreement. Before I even know what I’m agreeing with or to, I’m all in and I am contributing ideas. This keeps me from defaulting to a Versus mentality and its ensuing version of the classic Yes/No argument. And more importantly, being reckless with my agreement gives my scene partners support and confidence while creating opportunities for them to react and build. Whether we have the structure of a long form, the guide rails of a genre, or the complete absence of any pre planned elements, we all need to use agreement to navigate the initial steps into this unknown world. To simplify it to it’s core, agreement makes it all work.

At the start of a scene, the possibilities are infinite. It can literally and figuratively be about anything. “Improv is easy, we make it hard,” I tell my students and casts (and myself!) as a reminder that our big brains have an amazing tendency to complicate things. By focusing on agreement, we are able to interrupt our big brains and make the whole initial process of creating a scene so much easier. Complete agreement can eliminate the over-thinking, brain fog that can consume us when every option is available to us. Instead, we lead each other through the slowly coalescing nameless, shapeless void to find our footing among the strong foundational elements we are laying for the scene that follows. Agreement effortlessly gives us the perfect next step in our search for a path through the landmines of bad improv scenes. Agreement makes improv easy again!

A wonderful side effect of this style of agreement is the deep joy that pervades the player and the cast during the scene or performance. It’s such a genuine and contagious joy as well, shared by all in the scene, not just one or at the expense of others. And it quickly spreads from the stage to the audience, tapping into the empathetic part of the brain that enjoys watching others have fun. It’s often unquantifiable after the fact, too. Trying to determine what steps we can take to repeat this feeling for the next scene rarely yields the results we want. We just know that scene or game or show was super fun and we want to chase that feeling some more. Agreement makes our improv more fun!

A disclaimer of sorts: I realize there is a lot about this Reckless Agreement idea that is dependent upon trust between performers and practitioners. And, I acknowledge that some of us have a lived experience that has afforded us the privilege of being trusted more immediately, leading in turn to trusting others more freely. No doubt this will affect to what degree some improvisors will relate to, or even want to use, this concept.

The Many Flavors of Agreement

The Agreement Principle exists because there is more to Yes And then simply saying the words Yes And. By reframing the concept as agreement, I open up to the larger observation: I can agree with so many things my partner or the scene are offering. The emotional tone, the object work or environment, the unsaid implications of a title - the list goes on and on. To embrace the Agreement Principle we have to consider all the ways we can agree, and consequently support, our scene partners at the start of our scenes.

It’s important to repeat: We do not agree solely with our words. Our actions can say yes. Consider the idea of mirroring. In improv and theater, mirroring often refers to copying or reflecting what someone else is doing on stage. Sometimes we mirror a character, mimicking a vocal or a physical choice. Other times, we might mirror the emotional energy of a partner. It may even be something as small as the object work choices they are making to build out our shared environment. It’s not just dialogue we say yes to, but to the whole reality being discovered.

Another way to agree with all the elements our scene partner is offering is by taking a complimentary stance. As opposed to a mirroring one. Let me explain by borrowing a concept from the color wheel: Every color on the wheel has colors that are opposite and contrast it and colors that are considered matching or complementary. In reaction to our scene partner’s choices at any point in the scene, we have the option to choose the same color (Mirroring), an opposite color (Conflict), or a matching color (Complimentary). This third choice allows for evolution of ideas, expanding of the reality, and leads to new discoveries for the players - three very important aspects of a typically successful improv scene.

Lastly, we can just say yes. This does seem to contradict my point a few paragraphs above, but hear me out. Overthinking things is kind of what humans do. So, if all this talk of agreement and mirroring, etc gets you in your head, default to just saying yes. In this way we can agree to the concepts offered at first then expand our agreement out to the circumstances. By staying in a place of agreement with our scene partners for the first thirty seconds to a minute of your scenes we have a much better chance of building the strong foundation needed for what comes next. And this simple action will frequently lead to many of these alternative methods of agreement I outlined above, anyway.

Group Mind

You will often hear improvisors attribute some aspect of the work to the collective, using the term Group Mind. Usually this is given as a default reason when the actual cause is unknown or even just not remembered. It’s describing the feeling that no one performer was leading the show, but all the players were contributing to the success of the piece. Spolin refers to Following The Follower in her book, I feel that’s in the same realm as this concept. I will often describe it as a manifestation of the quote, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts”. This appears in almost any team sport or group activity setting, sometimes referred to as being in the zone. Clearly, this term could easily have its own series of essays and still wouldn’t fully explore it. I am only briefly touching on it here in reference to The Agreement Principle and Reckless Agreement.

The mystique of Group Mind for our art form is wide spread. It’s a controversial idea in some improv circles and communities, I’m sure. I personally feel there is a connection between improvisors that can occur when all things are clicking that is palpable and transcends simple definitions. A term like Group Mind works well to give us a shorthand to refer to a much broader concept.

Much like the quality of “being funny”, many feel like this is an unteachable element of improvisation. It either happens or it doesn’t. When it does, the show is amazing. And when it doesn’t, the show suffers. I don’t know if I believe that entirely or not. Mostly because that binary seems too simple for something that is essentially a deep and profound connection between artists participating in a collective activity of artistic creation.

I do feel that it’s unhelpful to debate whether we can teach Group Mind or not. I think it’s like asking if we can teach empathy. Instead, I find it’s more accurate to acknowledge that, through our training, we give artists the skill set to reliably create the conditions for Group Mind to occur. Those conditions are created because of the collaborative and collective nature of this art. Embracing the Agreement Principle, specifically the idea of starting with Reckless Agreement, strongly reinforces that very nature in the beginning of the creation process.

The Myth of Conflict Equals Funny

When I tell a student or actor that agreement might be a stronger choice in a scene or moment, I often receive something to the effect of, “But how will it be funny?” I don’t blame the actor for this misconception because they come about it naturally. I have heard of improv teachers or courses that actually teach this idea, but those are rare and hearsay. While I don’t think every scene needs a conflict to be successful, I strongly believe conflict can be a discovered part of any scene that is successful.

I believe we come to the conclusion that conflict is necessary in our improvised scenes because most of our story based entertainment, like film, television, books, etc, is all written material that we consume as an audience after the fact. The authors set up a conflict to serve the story line and have already resolved it by the time an audience enjoys the piece. Improvisational theater clearly does not have the same relationship to our audiences, therefore we must have a different understanding of conflict in our scenes. Much like the prewritten stories, a conflict can develop many compelling aspects of our scenes and lead to powerful transformations for the characters. But not every improv scene needs a conflict to be successful.

Rushing to invent a conflict forces a predetermined structure on the scene regardless of what is actually happening. And, more often than not, the go-to conflict is against the other person in the scene. The result is an argument or disagreement being injected into the scene in a misguided effort to be funny. Does it work sometimes? Yes, especially with skilled improvisors, teams with great chemistry, receptive audiences, or a combination of those. But it’s not a guarantee by any means. And many times stalls the scene with a needless Yes/No battle at a crucial part. Instead, I have found more successful scenes from shifting the focus to agreement at the start of the scene and allowing for discovery as we build. We might discover an outside force we can unite against or have a simple scene involving people existing. And, yes, we might even discover that we have an issue with each other that has to be dealt with immediately. Everything is possible and it’s all potential foundations for a successful scene. If we listen and build together, any scene, with or without a conflict, can be successful.

When Yes is Actually No and Vice Versa

At the risk of opening another contentious debate in the world of improv, I feel any essay on Agreement has to, at least, briefly touch on the tricky subject of when saying Yes is actually not agreeing, or when saying No is actually agreement. Please note this is not meant to be an argument defending ignoring when a scene partner says no for more serious, personal reasons. I am strictly limiting this idea to the world of how an improvisor responds to blend creating successful scenes with honoring our characters' motivation.

Perhaps the easiest way to convey my thought on this concept is through this example I often use with my students and actors. If your scene partner initiates with an angry argument starting line like, “Oh, come on! You just knocked over my ice tea pitcher! Why are you so clumsy?!”. We might immediately respond with some form of disagreement to defend our actions or character. While this feels natural for human behavior, it is on the surface a No. You are disagreeing in a manner. However, this is clearly more of an agreement with the circumstances and context of the scene. This is when a No is actually a Yes. And in this case, going the natural and expected route typically leads to a fight or argument scene from the very start. There is definitely an argument to be made for taking the other route too; saying “Yes” to agree with the circumstances and the accusation. This route can diffuse the argument and make a whole different scene possible. But, one could argue you are disagreeing with your scene partner in a way. So, by that logic, a Yes would then actually be a No. There are plenty of other examples for this idea: Responding to “Where are we?” with the answer could be interpreted as saying No the idea of being in an unknown place, or trying to calm down your scene partners angry emotion rather than mirroring it could be seen as saying No to their emotional choice.

I also freely admit that this concept is much more complex than the simple When a Yes is Really a No phrasing. There is so much more to this than just saying Yes instead of No or No instead of Yes. But my hope in even including this section is that improvisors consider the deeper layer of our choices in scenes.

Easy Methods to Put This into Practice

I can’t possibly write this gigantic essay and not offer some tips on how to put this into practice. That is the teacher part of me, I suppose. I welcome feedback in the comments on any of these tips. If you try one, let me know how it goes. If you already do this, how has it affected your work? Do you have alternative suggestions that have worked for you? I'd love to hear them.

• Tip #1: Just Say Yes More

A simple idea that is harder to put into your work than you might expect. By defaulting to yes more often, you’ll notice it quickly seeping into all aspects of the scene where agreement can be overlooked. And it’s also kind of what improv is known for, right?

• Tip #2: Your Scene Partner Is Right, You Just Don’t Get It Yet

This is my way of keeping myself out of my head and my preconceived ideas of what the scene should be about. If I play with the underlying idea that my scene partner is right, then I allow myself to completely follow their lead and not try to force my ideas back into the scene. As we get more experience and training, this practice of trying to control the direction of the scene get less explicit and moves to an unconscious level of choice. This tip puts that whole process back in your focus and allows for more collaborative creation.

• Tip #3: There Are Many Ways To Say Yes And Equally Many Ways To Say No

This tip is about broadening our awareness in our scenes to include the non verbal choices we make, like object work, character work, etc. It also includes the many different ways Yes and No show up in our dialogue, masked by phrases or emotions or subtext. By allowing ourselves to consider this aspect of our scene work, we can deepen the connection and collaboration with our scene partners.

• Tip #4: Use This For Good Not Evil.

This is less a tip and more of a plea. I have heard of way too many horror stories of people being chastised for saying no or made to feel like they have to say yes in scenes. And sadly it’s more often than not heard from members of typically marginalized segments of society. We are improvisors, yes, but we are humans first. We need to respect each other and take care of each other so that we can all participate to our full capacities in this art. As artists, we should accept nothing less, if not for each other and ourselves, than for the Art of Improvisation.