Yes, And: How Improv Makes Me a Bolder, Better Writer

Published October 7, 2025

By Marta Lane

The stage scared me. But not as much as the blank page. 

I was burned out and stuck in the middle of yet another tough revision. I worried I didn’t have what it took to be a career novelist. So, I did something uncharacteristic. I said yes to improv.

When I signed up, I wasn’t chasing laughs—I was chasing my creative self. After years of striving, over-editing, and second-guessing every word, I didn’t need another writing tip. I needed to remember why I loved storytelling in the first place. I also wanted to trust my voice again. I hoped the seven-week Improv 101 class would help spark creativity and inspire me to take more risks.

But I’m the kind of introvert who prefers carefully crafted scripts over hard conversations. If I can write you a letter, or read aloud with the video off, that’s how I want to handle a communication breakdown.

So I was terrified the morning of my first improv class. Just writing about it churns my belly. I think I went to the bathroom eight times before leaving the house. When I entered Peak Improv Theater and saw a stage in the center of the room—where I would stand, and people would see me—I panicked.

There’d be no time to ideate, draft, or revise.

What if I failed?

What if I had nothing to say?

What if I wasn’t funny?

It’s possible the ten other students felt the same way. But Casey Frase, our Improv 101 teacher, immediately put us at ease. There were no expectations. Mistakes were extra funny. The best strategy? Don’t think. Just show up. Listen. Have fun. “Your joy brings me joy.”

With my fear impaled, newfound freedom emerged, and I gave myself permission to play. 

For two hours every week, I became a kid again, acting foolish with other silly scamps. Casey’s outrageous laugh encouraged us to be extra reckless. His exaggerated body language was hilarious as he demonstrated a technique on character or conflict. He said the goofiest stuff. In the whackiest voices. Laughter uplifted us. Joined us. We left, healed a little; grown a little. 

After taking Casey’s class, I learned that gifting people confidence through laughter is his superpower. His improv transformed quiet neurodivergent folks, a shy seventeen-year-old mom, a podcaster with panic attacks, and a blocked writer who got back to the page.

As I practiced following narrative threads without overthinking, I discovered that improv strengthens storytelling instincts. And instead of plotting every beat, I allowed the truth of the story to unfold. Dropping perfection, even for a few hours once a week, and making mistakes out loud—then laughing at them, emboldened my voice—both on and off the page. 

Recently, I met a friend for brunch at Burnt Toast. She asked about my novel, then held up her hands and said, “I know writers don’t like to talk about their books, so you don’t have to.”

I looked her in the eye, smiled, and said, “My novel is contemporary book club fiction. It follows a burned-out chef, who, after decades of proving herself in the kitchen, retreats to Kauai—only to realize that the success she craves no longer defines the woman she’s becoming. It’s about learning that productivity doesn’t define your worth.” 

Her eyes got watery. She said, “I want to read that. Let me know when it comes out.”

Now, when I sit down to write, I feel peaceful. I take storytelling risks, knowing they might not work. But I keep showing up, delighted that I get to spend time thinking about how I want readers to feel, and then try painting that story with words. Thanks to improv, I’m content once again, nestled in my beautiful office, playing my favorite music, writing about frustrated dreamers who save themselves.

If you’re a writer feeling stuck, try saying “Yes, and…” to something new. You might just laugh your way back to the page.

Marta Lane writes atmospheric fiction about frustrated dreamers who save themselves. A former Hawaiʻi-based food and travel journalist, she now tells stories about identity, reinvention, and creative resilience. Marta is also the voice behind Living with Big Dreams, an online magazine offering inspiring stories and nourishing recipes to fuel resilience in creative entrepreneurs. She believes storytelling is magic, rest is productive, and worms deserve rescuing after it rains. Connect with her at martalane.com.