I SHOW UP AS A CIG trainer

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Glenys Marshall and improv are like Cheez Whiz and grape jelly: looked at a little funny, but destined to be together!!!

Glenys has been with The Games for 13 years as a player, judge, and now head trainer for the Ottawa region. She is a working musical comedian, and her monthly comedy and variety show, Small Fish, has allowed her to make a living off the silly stuff, which is like, really exciting. Her signature move as a CIG player was to go “octopus-mode”, where she would pretend to have no bones and writhe around. A visionary.



How has your role within the Canadian Improv Games evolved since you first got involved?

 

After I graduated high school, I continued to show up to my region’s events as a volunteer, and eventually as an adjudicator and then as a judge. I volunteered with the National Festival because I am lucky enough to be a born and bred Ottawa girl, and when I moved to Toronto, I got to meet a lot of wonderful people and friends from the GTA that I didn’t have a chance to really get to know very deeply while I was still in Ottawa. I feel like that really broadened the web of people that I knew within the CIG, and it solidified my involvement with The Games because I realized that I could find friends literally everywhere. Everywhere I went in Canada, the CIG people there would all know people that I knew, and everything was so connected. And I was like, if I stay with this organization, I’m going to have friends and a social like bedrock for life.I feel like that, that, that solidified my, like my “forever involvement.”

 

Then when the pandemic hit, I moved back to Ottawa and continued to volunteer and do online adjudications there. I travelled with Spencer Dunn to Iqaluit to teach improv workshops up there. We’d never been that far north, and that was a really special thing that I got to do, which also kind of relit the fire for me. We get to travel to these really amazing places and meet these really amazing kids, and I can’t think of any other organization that I would get to do that in. It was just a really special experience. 

 

Now I am Ottawa’s official regional trainer, and it’s such an honor to wear such a title because those trainers were my heroes in high school! Now I get to show up for the kids in my community and at the schools that I used to play with. It feels like a wonderful full circle moment. And I really, I have no intentions of ceasing being involved in the CIG.

 

How did the skills and foundations that you learned in CIG help you in other parts of your life?

 

I didn’t need any help getting out of my shell; I was a really confident kid. I came into high school swinging, guns ablaze, ready to make my mark, make friends, and get all this extra energy out. I know I’m not alone in this feeling—being such an extrovert with so much to give, improv helped me to chill out.

When I first started, I was off the wall. I felt like what they would call a scene-stealer, but maybe in a bad way. I just loved it; it made me so excited to get up and say anything. I realized that trying to be funny makes you not funny, so I decided to just be crazy.

As I evolved and got to know myself better as an improviser, I realized that my favorite people to improvise with were those who knew how to take a backseat, to listen, and to think before they spoke—a lesson I had a really hard time with. Today, I’m still a pretty wackadoodle improviser, but in my improv and professional relationships, especially since I pursued something in comedy and entertainment, it’s always worth listening to other people’s ideas first and offering your two cents second.

It’s always worth taking the time to establish a relationship with somebody and get all the information before pursuing a large project, a new relationship, or an idea. That’s the biggest lesson I took away from my high school improv and the improv I do now.

One of the most important gifts I’ve been given is to make stuff for your friends. Every offer you give within a CIG scene is to set your friends up for success—that’s a gift to them. All this endowment, not asking questions, not making them work for it—it’s all gifts to your fellow teammates. That’s exactly how I create now: What would make my friends happy? What would my friends enjoy? What would allow them to turn their brains off for a bit? What is a gift I can give them creatively?

And it makes you more likable than coming in with a dynamite line or a super funny character ever could. Nobody’s going to remember your super funny character, but everybody’s going to remember how you make them feel. Everyone’s going to remember how you use your generosity in that way, how that makes them feel special and good and just as creative and funny as you are. Then you’re doing it together, and it’s just all the much sweeter.

 

What’s your favourite CIG memory?

 

One of my favorite CIG memories has to be from my first year at Improv U. I didn’t know too many people, but I did know this guy Sachin from Ottawa, and I was so excited to see him because I had no idea he’d be there. At the time, I was going through a phase where I thought I was the world’s best freestyle rapper, and Sachin was totally on board with it. He hyped it up like, “Oh my God, yes.”

 

So for the talent show, we asked for a suggestion, and I think it was chocolate milk—because Improv U famously has the best chocolate milk in the world. We got that suggestion and ended up doing a freestyle rap about chocolate milk. We were both beatboxing for each other, and our rap names were G Money and Brown Sugar. To this day, we still have those names saved for each other in our phones, and we’re still really good friends.

 

What made it so special was that I honestly have no idea how anyone else felt about that performance—whether it was super cringey or amazing—because we were just having such a good time. I didn’t even stop to think if people liked it; we were so locked in, and it just felt like the best. It’s moments like that, where you’re having so much fun you don’t care how you’re being perceived, that really stick with you.

 

What is your favourite improv exercise or game? 

 

I think my favourite improv game is circuits, which might be a bit of a nerdy choice. It’s the one where you have your hand up, pointing across the circle. I just feel really good when I’m playing it—it’s a selfish reason, but I’m very focused, and it reminds me of those games where you’ve got a bean under a cup and you’re moving it around. I’m so good at those, and circuits feels like the improv equivalent of that.

 

But right now, my favorite exercise is one my comedy partner Maggie and I have been using in our workshops—the 30-second silent start. Maggie picked it up at Loose Moose Theatre in Alberta, and it’s pretty simple: you start a scene by tasking silently for 30 seconds, like you’re making a sandwich or something, and you’re happy about it. After that, someone comes in and offers something. I don’t know what kind of magic is in that silent start, but I love watching people experience it. They’re not doing much at all, but it’s so entertaining to watch, and it creates this interesting vibe. It’s been really scratching at my brain these past few months, and I’m just obsessed with it.

 

How does participating in CIG impact young people’s development and confidence?

 

Participating in the CIG is truly a social bedrock for young people. It’s so easy to get involved and fall in love with it as a kid. You find yourself in a community of people who just get you—who understand where you’re coming from and why you’re drawn to improv. It’s a place where you’re constantly connected with like-minded people who help you grow, not just as a performer, but as a person. And along the way, you develop some of the best social skills you’ll ever have. You gain this amazing community support, but what’s even more special is how you become great at supporting others too. It creates this beautiful cycle of growth.

Especially now, after COVID, when so many young people have grown up plugged into the internet, they’re really craving that real human connection. Improv offers them that spark, that chance to share and connect in a way that nothing else can, whether they’re on stage in the spotlight or supporting from the sidelines. It’s so good for their brains, their hearts, and their confidence.

Personally, I was scared I wouldn’t find a place where I belonged in high school, but when I found CIG, I knew I was going to be okay. That sense of belonging still sticks with me as an adult. Whenever I’m unsure about where I’m headed, I can call on the friends and experiences I gained through CIG, and it reassures me that I’ll be okay. I get emotional thinking about it because I know how life-changing it was for me, and I think about all the kids who don’t have access to it yet—especially the ones up north who CIG have been trying to reach. Every kid deserves that chance, and my heart goes out to those who haven’t found it yet. I just want every young person to have that option, because it makes such a huge difference in their lives.

 

 

 

 

This fall, we’re calling on our incredible community to help us reach our goal of gaining 100 monthly donors through the Show Up for Canadian Improv Games campaign. As a registered charity, the CIG relies on your support to keep enriching the lives of youth through improvisational theatre. Your donation, no matter the size, will directly contribute to sustaining this life-changing program. Are you ready to show up for the next generation of improvisers? Click here to become a CIG monthly donor today and help us keep The Games alive!