Failing is fun

“Don’t prepare, just show up.” — from the book ‘Improv Wisdom’ by Patricia Ryan Madson

On the first day of my final quarter as a John S. Knight Journalism Fellow, I took a leap into the unknown. I woke up at 8 a.m., brushed my teeth, had breakfast — and biked to the Roble Art Gym on campus, where I walked into the beginning moments of a legendary Stanford class. I was about to take my first steps into the world of improv theater.

“Beginner’s Improv” is taught by Dan Klein and Lisa Rowland, two amazing instructors and improvisers, who have thoughtfully designed the course and turned it into one of the university’s highlights.

For someone who is used to planning everything down to the last detail, the notion of improvising sounds frightening. I built my journalism career on careful deliberation, double-checking every word, accounting for all possible scenarios. Strategy and structure are what I know. Here, in this classroom, I had to learn to let go.

Embracing Failure

Our first lesson was about redefining the idea of failure. The class started with little games and collaborative exercises, such as telling a story as a group, each person contributing one word at a time. The games were easy in the beginning, but quickly ramped up in speed and difficulty, becoming close to impossible. As our exercises fell apart, Dan and Lisa laughed and shared a key piece of improv wisdom:

“Don’t try to be perfect, or funny or smart. The point here is to be average, and to fail joyfully. If you’re not failing, you’re doing it wrong.” — Dan Klein and Lisa Rowland

From that moment on, we were encouraged to celebrate every slip-up — from fumbling a line to forgetting our role in a scene. Whenever things didn’t go as planned, we threw our hands up, shouted with joy and applauded each other for taking a risk. Though it might seem silly, this idea of embracing failure was transformative. The class became a playground where mistakes were not just expected, they were essential. We learned that each failure was a spark for new ideas, pushing us into new creative territories.

Over time, the scenes grew more complex and unpredictable. I found myself playing the role of a high priest in an ancient civilization, an astronaut on Mars, a landlord collecting rent from an overdue tenant, and a curious guest at an alien dinner party.

These scenarios, absurd as they may seem, taught us the art of thinking quickly, adapting, and going with the flow — skills that are extremely relevant in a world that is changing more rapidly by the day.

Lessons for Journalism

Most importantly, improv builds the skills of radical listening, with pure focus on the moment and attentiveness to others. This is crucial on stage, but it’s just as important in journalism. In our effort to tell important stories, we first need to understand others — their words, but also underlying motivations, body language and nuances in conversation. Interviews are one area of journalism that improv techniques can be applied to directly.

As the weeks went on, I started to reflect on other lessons that improv might hold for journalism. My current distance from the newsroom makes it easier to see how much of our industry seems to be fueled by a fear of failure, by a lack of creativity and imagination. Some of this is understandable. Journalism’s main currency is trust, and nobody wants bad articles that are riddled with errors.

But there are many areas where this fear holds us back. In the realm of products, we could be piloting all kinds of new ways to engage audiences, from immersive storytelling to participatory experiences. In newsrooms, we could be playing with unconventional story structures and voice, trusting that our craft will make the leap. And in the face of dizzying tech change, we could be using tools like AI to supercharge every aspect of our work, from research to distribution.

What if we approached journalism like an improv stage — as a space to try new things, take risks, and see where the journey leads us? I picture newsrooms alive with energy, where reporters huddle to riff on fresh angles, where coders and designers quickly prototype wild ideas, where small setbacks are celebrated as a learning experiences.

The stories we could tell, the communities we could build, the impact we could have — it all starts with a willingness to try new things and take risks.

Stepping into the Future

There are valid reasons for the media industry’s fear. I get it. But the improv principles of embracing failure and exploring the unknown remind us that often the best stories, like the best moments on stage, come from the unexpected, from the willingness to engage openly with others and the world around us.

Of course, the improv mindset is just one tool out of many — useful in some situations more than in others. But the ethos is sticking with me and inspiring me as I map out my future.

Together with my friend and JSK colleague Kaveh Waddell, I am channeling this philosophy into a new project: We are starting a company that aims to empower journalists, business leaders and non-profits worldwide to use cutting-edge technology like AI creatively and thoughtfully. As we prepare to launch, we know that stepping into the future with an openness to experiment and keep learning is not just important, but also extremely fun.

We hope you will join us as we reimagine journalism for the AI age. If you are interested in working with us, get in touch! As a first step, we are designing AI training programs and tools for newsrooms and are currently booking workshops starting in July.  You can reach us at patrick@verso.ink and kaveh@verso.ink.

For now, as I continue my journey both in and out of Stanford’s classes, I am reminded that sometimes, the best preparation for a new chapter is simply to show up, ready to embrace whatever comes. This isn’t just about facing the unknown. It’s also about trusting myself — my judgment, my experience and my creativity.

It’s about stepping into the future with confidence and curiosity, excited to see where the next story will lead us.