I was wrong.
This is becoming somewhat of a theme for me. Apparently, I came across as nervous, undecided, and occasionally frustrated, although I was none of these things.1 Clearly, there's some disconnect between what I think I'm doing and what I'm actually doing.
I was under the impression I'd gotten pretty good at improv — at least on par with my fellow improvisers who keep getting snatched up for spots in established groups — but if I've learned anything over the past few months, it's this:
I'm not good at improv.
That's not to say I'm bad at it. I've been in some great scenes, and gotten plenty of laughs. But whereas a few days ago I'd have said I was pretty good, this latest setback (in a series of many) has finally made the truth sink in: I'm mediocre at best. It's become abundantly clear I'm not fit for any improv troupe.2
It's okay, though; I've already come to terms with this. In fact, I think it might be for the best. In their rejection, the group said I showed potential and should keep at it. And I will, since I enjoy it. But this rejection may be just the impetus I need to shift most of my focus back to something I know I'm good at: writing.
Then again, if I was so far off regarding my improv abilities, I might be deluding myself about my writing, too. After all, I've really only shared my fiction with friends and family, and it's not like they're going to say it sucks.3 The novel I'm writing might be utter tripe. I have no idea.
And that got me thinking. I soon realized I'm probably not as good as I think I am at a slew of things. In fact, I've put together a list:
- Web design (yep — my day job)
- Imitating accents, eh?
- Hostage negotiation
- Self doubt
- Making lists
- Being a dad
HusbandryBeing a husband
- Juggling knives
- Humorous footnotes4
Wish me luck!
1 Except for one brief bout of indecision during the first warm-up exercise, when my brain wasn't yet firing on all cylinders. (Actually, my brain never fires on all cylinders; I always leave one cylinder alive to spread the word of Nate, the Geometrical Killer.)
2 Well, unless they're Damn Fools.
3 Sure, a few in the local writing group gave negative feedback, but I'd already learned not to trust their opinions.
4 As opposed to humerus footnotes, which I'm no longer allowed to do, ever since they discovered my medical credentials were courtesy of Milton Bradley.
5 Stepping on one of these causes a literal explosion.