Happy Thanksgiving! How About Those Gender Roles in Improv, Eh? by Liz McKeon Thursday, November 24, 2011 - 0

By WICF Editor Liz McKeon  

Happy Thanksgiving, ladies of comedy! Happy Thanksgiving, fans of comedic ladies! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone outside of the U.S. who has to work today (my apologies).

I'd like to direct your attention to a brilliant podcast hosted over at our sponsor ImprovBoston's site, "Fireside Improv." You know the wonderful WICF Contributor Rachel Klein, you love her. Now you can hear Rachel, along with the brilliant David Marino and Andy Short, expound on all the improv geekiness you've been missing in your life.

On the most recent episode, "Gender and Improv," the group tackles the important questions about women's roles in improv and how gender roles play out on and off the stage. Check out "Fireside Improv 9 - Gender and Improv" on the ImprovBoston Radio page.

For some choice quotes to share around the dinner table, my money's on: "I came back to improv as a married woman, mother of two. I noticed the difference that made as to how some men in the improv world would look at me versus an attractive single female counterpart of mine ... less onstage than ... you know how, when a man meets a women — you tell me if this is not true — they think maybe there's a chance I'll sleep with her? The quotient of that goes down with certain attributes." -Rachel Klein
"Is Being married one?" -David Marino
"Being married is one, but, like, ugh, she's had babies. That's a whole scary world. So there's this whole bed-able quotient that reduces [our chances onstage.]"

Or chew on these two bon mots from Rachel:
"Men don't have to be representative of all men when they speak, but women represent all women."
"People are more willing to look at tubby, middle-aged men than at tubby, middle-aged women."

I'd like to make a shout out to Patti Jane McCauley McLoughlin, for the deviled eggs and conversation. Happy holiday!

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It's Not a Competition by Unknown Thursday, November 17, 2011 - 11

By Contributor Barbara Holm


A few days ago, I worked the door at a comedy club and I also did a short guest spot on the show. The good thing about working the door at a comedy club is that you get to hang out and talk to other comedians a lot. The bad thing about working the door is that you’re stuck in the box office for an hour so you have to talk to other comedians a lot. As I was setting up the cash register, a more established road headliner comedian walked through the doors. Let’s call her Sally.

I said, “Hi, Sally,” (No I didn’t, because that’s not her real name, but just leave the fourth wall alone and go with me, okay?) politely as she came in.

Sally’s face went white with horror and her eyes grew big and she yelped back cheerfully, “Hi!” She disappeared into the show room and came back five minutes later and said, “Hey, Barbara.” I figured she’d forgotten my name earlier, which was fine. We didn’t know each other that well. With an overcompensating smile on her face, Sally said, “I guess I’m closing out the showcase. I’m doing my [regular] set. I’m sure you alternative hipster comics will hate it but you’ll be too busy talking about your ironic hoodies to worry about it.” She winked.

What I should have said was, “No, you’re great. We love your set.” What I actually said was, “This isn’t an ironic hoodie; it’s a UCB hoodie.”

There are not a finite number of spots for female comedians on a show bill.

I don't respond well to catty girl comments. I can’t digest an insult wrapped in a compliment burrito, especially not from people I don’t know that well. Admittedly, I can be incredibly self deprecating, but I try to draw the line when it makes others feel uncomfortable.

Sally blinked. “What’s UCB?”

My face fell, devastated that I would ever have to answer this question. “The Upright Citizen’s Brigade. You know … Amy Poehler, Matt Besser-”

Sally interrupted me, “Oh yeah, of course I know.”

Another comedian, one of my very funny friends, Jesse, approached the ticket booth and quietly started rifling through his notebook while mumbling something about feeling frustrated. “Don’t worry, Jesse,” Sally said, loud enough for the entire bar area to hear. “Barbara here will be your comedy groupie!”

My eyes went black with rage, and I felt an Eowyn from Lord of the Rings-style vehement anger as I looked at her and quietly said, “I ain’t no fucking comedy groupie.”

A comedy groupie is a woman (notice there is no derogatory word for it if a man does it) who is a fan of comedy and has sex with headlining comedians. This person is usually not a comedian herself and has also been referred to as a “starfucker,” “chucklefucker,” and other horribly offensive names. Cute young girl comics will occasionally have this title incorrectly thrust upon them. I am a comedian; I am not riding on my sexuality to get booked on shows, nor am I in comedy for any reason other than to get funnier.

A group of audience members came up to the box office so I turned my attention to them and Sally went down to the green room. When the audience members left, the show started and the box office became very slow. I picked up my copy of Mindy Kaling’s book “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?” (which is wonderfully well written and hilarious) and started reading. Sally came back to the box office.

“I’ve been asking about you downstairs,” she said. I looked up from my book, raising my eyebrows. “They say you’re really funny, but I said you’re too thin to be funny.”

I closed my books and folded my arms. This was another backhanded compliment designed to make me feel insecure about my comedic abilities. Deadpan, I said, “Oh, there’s a weight requirement to writing a good joke?”

I can’t digest an insult wrapped in a compliment burrito, especially not from people I don’t know that well.

Sally didn’t answer this and instead indicated my book. “Oh my gosh, that book is too cute. The cover is sickeningly adorable. Of course you’re reading something that cute.”

Defensively, I said, “What could you possibly have against Mindy Kaling?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

I gasped in horror. I was disturbed by the fact that anyone in comedy, let alone someone with a swagger, could not know who Mindy Kaling was. Luckily, before I could say anything, the manager came to tell me to come down to the showroom and get my butt on stage. I packed up the cashbox and headed down. I did really well on the show. Sally, however, bombed. As she was putting on her coat after the show, I said, “Good seeing you, Sally.”

“Good set, Barbie!” she said, in a nasally sarcastic voice.

“What is your problem with me?” I asked.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” she said, her voice rising to a higher pitch to imitate mine.

I shrugged and turned to leave. I hate that female comedians can be so passive aggressively competitive. We aren’t in competition with other women in our profession; we’re in competition with everyone. Men might try to pit us against each other so that they don’t have to compete with us, but we should never do it to ourselves. Women in comedy should work together, help each other up. It’s easier if we support each other instead of using high school passive aggressive backstabby language. There are not a finite number of spots for female comedians on a show. It’s hard enough for us to learn the complexities of the beautiful world of joke writing without having to compare ourselves to every other woman in the show. Also, the people who make comics feel jealous or competitive are exactly the people you should be friends with because they’re funny and ambitious and will push you and support you to be your best. We don’t need to put each other down to look better. I don’t know what’s going to happen with my or Sally’s careers, but I do know that I will never treat a younger funny female comic as a threat when I could be trying to make a friend.



Barbara Holm is a stand-up comedian from Seattle, Washington. She has performed at Bridgetown Comedy Festival, The Women in Comedy Festival, and Bumbershoot Festival. She has been described as clever, creative and unique.

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Geeking Out With ... Keisha Zollar by Unknown Wednesday, November 16, 2011 - 0

By Contributor Pam Victor

“Geeking Out with … ” is a series of interviews with well-known, highly experienced improvisers. It’s a chance to talk about stuff that might interest only hardcore improv dorkwads like me. For an extended, full-frontal geek-out version of this interview, please visit my blog, My Nephew is a Poodle.


When I saw the all-African American troupe The Jamal at this year’s Del Close Marathon, I was excited by the much-needed cultural expansion they bring to the improv world. I couldn’t help but to be particularly awed by Keisha Zollar’s firecracker performance. In addition to her total commitment, she added verve and vivacity to every scene. Zollar improvises with such apparent fearlessness that no boundary seems safe in her realm. And I, for one, am grateful for that.

Keisha Zollar has been performing improv since her college days at the University of California (San Diego) when, on a whim, she tried out for the short-form troupe “When the Script Hits the Fan.” Upon graduation, Zollar decided to pursue a career as “a serious actress,” so she moved to New York City to attend the MFA program at The Actor’s Studio in The New School. But the lure of comedy always beckoned her, so her first audition upon graduation was for the short-form group Chicago City Limits. She got a callback and took that as a sign to get back into improv. After two and a half years touring with a short-form troupe, Zollar trained at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theatre and the People’s Improv Theater. In 2009, she became the Diversity Coordinator at the UCBT. These days, Zollar divides her time hosting The Soul-Glo Project at UCB, and performing with Nobody’s Token, Doppelganger, and an indie, all-female Harold team called 8GH, to name a few of the many comedy pies Zollar has her fingers in.

Pam Victor: Well, let me say thanks for doing this interview. Just so you know, I've been doing improv for almost a decade. I founded my own troupe in western Mass. over eight years ago, and I produce a comedy show up here among other things. So that's where I'm coming from ...

Keisha Zollar: I kinda stalked you.

Pam Victor: So you know how many guys I fucked in high school?

Keisha Zollar: Hmmmmm.

[Um, seriously, Pam? Awkward much? My ability to start an interview off on the weird foot is almost pitch perfect. Alas. Enter immediate, quasi-professional, backpedalling mode.]

Pam Victor: So when did you find long-form?

Keisha Zollar: About 2006, I took my first class with Ari Voukydis at UCB…[but] I dropped out at level three. I felt isolated.

Pam Victor: That's intense, Keisha. I'm sorry you had that experience.

Keisha Zollar: Eh. It wasn't malicious. It was just people going towards what they were used to. I was this early twenties, black girl, and there were very few women and even fewer people who weren't white.

Pam Victor: So you've hit upon a very important point here. Improv is predominately a young, white, male show.

Keisha Zollar: It is, even more so in NYC. It’s also the economics of it all, so middle class to upper, and rich, white men. In NYC, you have to have the money to take classes or the free time to be an intern. I see the financial [issue] as a barrier to entry ...

The lack of females in improv has always been the greatest mystery to me personally. Growing up, my mom was and is one of the funniest people I know.

I think [the lack of diversity] is a perfect storm. Improv is a personal thing where you pull from your experiences, and if people can't relate to you, they kinda discredit you — not intentionally. And if you can't afford to take the classes, you cannot even be discredited!           

The lack of females [in improv] has always been the greatest mystery to me personally. Growing up, my mom was and is one of the funniest people I know.

Pam Victor: Well, I'm quite certain the fact that there are fewer female improvisers than male has nothing to do with whether women are funny or not.

Keisha Zollar: YES!!!! I think there is an inherent laziness in humans to go for what they know.

Pam Victor: I think you hit the nail on the head, Keisha. I think that since men started out dominating the improv scene — and since improv requires so much trust and intuitiveness — the men would relate more to the men. They would subtly reject the women's offers.

Keisha Zollar: Men have had an unfair balance of power in the history of this country. Shit, we are still figuring that out.

Pam Victor: Seriously. I almost never improvise with men. Not by design, but by circumstance.

Keisha Zollar: I tend to perform with either women or other black performers.

Pam Victor: In addition to the fact that I think you guys are incredibly skilled improvisers (and I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass — I really mean it!), I personally love the cultural diversity The Jamal and Nobody’s Token brings to the festival circuit. What are the advantages for you of playing with an all African-American troupe?
Keisha Zollar: Well, the best part of being in an all African-American troupe is not having to explain any cultural things. Yes, I listened to R&B more than pop. Jesus is big with black people, gospel too, [plus] church and music and food and more. We have the same cultural rhythm, and it's pretty bad ass.

I think there are scenes that can expose painful truth through humor, but you really need the diversity to do them justice.

I started playing with a great group of women called Mrs. Jones, a group of black women, and the shared experiences ARE awesome. First off, I LOVE playing with ladies. I don't feel weird making a joke about my body or feelings. Also playing with black women ... when something racial comes up, no one's buttholes tense up. There tends to be a level of sensitivity because we know what it's like to be the outcast. So if we push an issue, it is because we are intentionally doing so!

Pam Victor: Well, and you have the advantage — so to speak — of being able to go there. Know what I mean?

Keisha Zollar: YES!!!! Women handle rape scenes differently, in my experience, than men. And black people handle a slave scene differently. I think there are scenes that can expose painful truth through humor, but you really need the diversity to do them justice.

Pam Victor: ABSOLUTELY. But here's the thing, we are talking about how it's more fun and easier and more comfortable to do improv with people who share common experiences with ourselves. But if we only do improv with people who are like us, then how is improv as a big unit going to become more unified?

Keisha Zollar: Well, I think it is a balance. I also try to play with people VERY different from me whenever I can. I think you find your voice and empowerment when you are playing with like players, and you find freedom and the stretching of your abilities and thoughts when you play with people vastly different from you.

Keisha Zollar

Pam Victor: Well said. And please don't think for a minute I'm saying it's your responsibility as a black woman to unify the improv world. It is a two-way street. I'm talking from my own experience as a female improviser who often feels more comfortable working with other women, but also frustrated by those same limitations.

Keisha Zollar: I think it's a constant balance. I think the male-heavy or -only groups have the same tendencies — there are just a lot more of them. They form groups from people who are similar, and then they start going for the people who are most different for the creative challenge.

Pam Victor: So who are you performing with these days? Where can we see you?

Keisha Zollar: I am still performing with Nobody's Token and Doppelganger. I also play with 8GH, which is an eight-lady Harold team (indie). In addition, I actually host a show highlighting diversity in comedy called the Soul Glo Project. The Soul Glo Project is a UCB show.

Pam Victor: It seems like UCB is very supportive of your efforts to diversify the improv scene.

Keisha Zollar: THEY ARE! And Nate Dern, the new AD, is amazing. He cares about diversity. He's made more considerations and has supported and welcomed, and is welcoming, diversity. He sees that diversity isn't about the minorities getting a chance, but about fostering the best comedic talent, and giving diverse talent ways to express that. He sees the struggle.

Pam Victor: So there are reasons to be optimistic about the coming diversity in the improv world.

Keisha Zollar: Yes. Nate gives me a lot of hope. And others, too.

Read the rest of Pam's interview with Keisha Zollar at My Nephew is a Poodle.

Photo credit: Jeff Hausthor

Pam Victor is the founding member of The Ha-Ha’s, and she produces The Happier Valley Comedy Shows. Pam directs, produces and performs in the hot, new comic soap opera web series "Silent H, Deadly H". Pam also writes mostly humorous, mostly true essays and reviews of books, movies and tea on her blog, "My Nephew is a Poodle."

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Bullish: How To Make Money From Being Hip As All Fucking Hell by Unknown Tuesday, November 15, 2011 - 0

By Contributor Jen Dziura 

This article originally appeared on TheGrindstone.

When I was a kid, I assumed that everyone on television was rich. Because showing off your dancing beagle on whatever program was the ‘80s equivalent to The Ellen DeGeneres Show obviously represents both a huge financial windfall as well as a sustainable business model.

We now live in an era in which it is painfully clear that fame does not equal money. Ashley Hebert made $30,000 for The Bachelorette (a tiny fraction of what she’ll soon be making as a dentist). All the other Real Housewives are jealous that Bethenny Frankel actually had a business plan all along, and a product (Skinnygirl Margarita) that other human beings would actually like to purchase for their own pleasure and consumption. I was in a pilot for a TV show on a major network and was to be paid a few thousand dollars per season if it took off – the idea being that, obviously, being a logic expert who helps people figure out how to steal cake would help me to advertise similar services in real life.

I’ve written before about how being attractive is helpful, but does not translate into money as readily as a person might think. Being awesome (or hip, cool, popular, famous, etc.) also does not just convert itself into money the way one might assume.

Read the rest at TheGrindstone.

Jennifer Dziura (jenniferdziura.com) writes career and life coaching advice for young women at TheGrindstone and TheGloss. She believes you can make money without being a douchebag. She believes in working harder and smarter now so you can have "balance" when you're wrinkly and covered in diamonds. She believes in starting businesses on zero dollars, selling expensive things to rich people, and laughing very hard at people who try to "manifest their dreams" without learning any real skills or shaping the fuck up. She likes to help. Jennifer also performs (sort of) educational one-woman shows about philosophy and punctuation. Her "The History of Women in 30 Minutes" is appearing in the Women in Comedy Festival.

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Good news -- You can still apply for WICF through Friday! Giddy up! by Liz McKeon Monday, November 14, 2011 - 0

Applications for shows are now open through Friday, November 18th at 11:59 pm EST. Go to womenincomedyfestival.com/apply to submit — and good luck!

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How To: Reintegrate Into Society After Doing the Comedy Thing by Liz McKeon Monday, November 14, 2011 - 1

By Contributor Maggie Maye


After taking a year off to focus on comedy (i.e. after not being able to find a job for a year), I've officially suited up and rejoined the workforce. It's been a bit of an adjustment, to say the least. The following is my experience so far. This shouldn't be taken as a decision map; if you get offered a job, by all means take it before they realize you're a comic and horribly unqualified for the position. I'm still crossing my fingers to make it past the 3-month probationary period.

Pro: Money, obviously.
Con: I work in sales, so that money doesn't come without a hustle. Additionally, since I have to talk to clients all day, I don't have time to look at cat videos on YouTube like everyone else does at their day job. As a side note, if you or any of your friends want to get your business on the front page of a search engine, hit me up. I can help. I work for the industry leader in search engine optimization and I'll hook you up with my discount (end shameless promotion).

Pro: I have to be more responsible. Since I have to fit more into my day, I have to make sure I'm not wasting a ton of time during the day. Also, since I'm working so hard for this job, I feel guilty unless I'm putting in the same effort for comedy.
Con: That responsibility hasn't exactly permeated every area of my life. Today, I had pretty much run out of deodorant, so I scraped the last remnants out of the container and rubbed it on my armpits like it was lotion. My pits still smell shower fresh, but so do my finger nails.

Pro: It's a full-time, 8-5 job, so I am awake way more.
Con: I'm awake way more.

Con: Since I spend 8-10 hours here, it cuts down on my writing time.
Less of a con: When I wasn't working, I wasn't writing for 8-10 hours. So, technically, this job is cutting into my Roseanne reruns and Cheeto-eating time. So I have to train my mind to make time to write. I write during my lunch hour and will jot down things as they come to me during the day. And they have Cheetos in the vending machine, so I'm good.

Pro: There are a bunch of people here, which is cool. It's an untapped resource of new people to invite to shows.
Con: If they go and talk during the whole thing, you'll have to answer to the other comics about why your work friends can't behave.
Other Pro: For the most part, they'll behave and be really nice. Nice enough that you'll happily agree to perform at their barbecue this weekend.
Another con: You'll end up performing at a barbecue.
Better pro: They'll probably let you eat some of the barbecue. And it's going to be delicious.

Maggie Maye. Photo Credit: Dustin Ashcraft

Maggie Maye has always had a knack for making people laugh. From her first time on stage, she knew she loved stand up even more than she loved candy. Well, actually, it’s a tie, but still, that’s a whole lot.
Maggie has been called "one of the hottest up and coming comics in Austin." She's been a finalist in the Funniest Person in Austin contest and was featured in Austin Monthly magazine. I'll bet you can probably guess where this broad lives. She's also been a featured performer at Fun Fun Fun Fest, Art Outside, the Out of Bounds Comedy Festival, and the Ladies are Funny Festival.
She has had the opportunity to work with some comedic badasses, such as Pablo Francisco, Felicia Michaels, and the legendary Paul Mooney, who not only told her she was funny, but gave her the nickname "Black Barbie." Also, this 6-year-old once told her she was the funniest person ever. So she also has that going for her.
If you see her perform, expect for Maggie to use her charm, wit and backhanded form of observational humor to make you laugh and think.

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WICF Takes Manhattan Tours to The PIT - WICF w/ The Scene Tonight at 9:30 by Liz McKeon Thursday, November 10, 2011 - 0

Last night of WICF Takes manhattan — join us for a night of improv with "The Scene" at The People's Improv Theater (The PIT) at 9:30!

Improv Comedy Featuring:
First Act: Cathleen Carr, Maria Ciampa, Leah Gotcsik, Rachel Rosenthal, Elyse Schuerman, Rachel Wecht
Act Two: Michelle Barbera, Micah Sherman
The Scene Players: Nicole Byer, Grace Helbig, Dan Hodapp, Bob Kulhan, Sasheer Zamata, Keisha Zollar
Buy Tickets ($5)


WICF Takes Mahattan was produced by Aaron Haber, Charlie Prince, Geoff Sargeant and Steven Scott in Association with Michelle Barbera, Maria Ciampa, Elyse Schuerman, and Hillary Buckholtz of the Women in Comedy Festival, and Micah Sherman and Dan Hodapp, Co-Producers of "The Scene", at the People's Improv Theater.

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