Ten years of Monday nights: a decade at DDG

After my first Duck Duck Goose improv jam, I wrote in my diary ‘I’m definitely going back to return as often as I can’. That entry was from Monday 13th April 2015. Little did I know not only would I go again, but I would continue keeping Monday nights free for the show a full decade later.

Ten years! That’s almost a third of my life. Of the five hundred plus nights DDG has run, I have been part of at least four hundred. The key to my longevity? I simply started going every week and just didn’t stop. By now, I'm the equivalent of Kenan Thompson at SNL: I wasn’t there when it began, but it seems like I’ve been there forever.

At this point, DDG is so ingrained in my routine that I cannot imagine my life without it. The show is a part of me now. It would be impossible to extract it from my being without killing me.

The joys this show has brought me are innumerable. Without DDG, my calendar would be sparser, my social life poorer. The jam is a great space to laugh, play, and make friends. It kickstarts my week. It helps me get in my improv reps. It means I regularly see my besties. 

It gives me a front row seat to see almost all of the improv teams London has to offer. It’s a place my family and colleagues can watch me in action. It's one of the best rooms I’ve ever played as an act.

DDG is the closest I’ll get to being in a real-life Muppet Show. I am grateful and lucky that it exists in my lifetime.

Ten years is an arbitrary milestone, but remember that we, like everything in improv, exist for just a moment. Our scene could be cut at any time. We never know the final punchline. To stay with anything for a tenth of a century is miraculous and noteworthy. This is why I wanted to mark it.

One key skill in improv is the ability to remember. It is useful to keep in mind everything that has been said (including – and this is difficult - your own character’s name) so you can build on it. Yet, while what we do next is inspired by what has come before, you must also exist in the present. What’s true now might not be so in two seconds, so process what’s new, react, and be changed by it.

In this spirit, while ten years is a nice round number, reaching it is not as important as what’s in front of me. Racking up tons of hours onstage and being a familiar face in a community won’t guarantee I have a good show. I need to exist in the now.

While it is comforting to reminisce about past prompts, jokes, and scenes, I cannot dwell on them. There’s another jam coming up, a chance for a new round of memories. I have no clue whether I'll be at the show forever, but today all I need to know is that there is a show on Monday.