How to make the most of a world where you can’t see the audience
I’ve noticed a strange thing that happened during my first year of doing improv. I had a really hard time hearing the audience.
It didn’t make sense, because I’d been performing at a really small theatre. It didn’t take much to sell out the show, and the stage was never that far from the furthest seats.
It didn’t matter. Being on stage put this psychological sound absorber in between me and the crowd.
I suppose there might have been perks to that, allowing myself to not live and die by the audience response, and to instead focus on play. But I didn’t exactly like it. Especially from an art form where, well, laughs are kind of a big deal.
After a few shows, I had people come up and tell me that they liked my performance, and then specifically mention certain parts they liked.
I would say thank you, but in my head, think. Wait, really? It felt dead silent when I said that on stage.
I can’t always see my audience, but you can see me. Watch me unpack this phenomenon on the latest Creative Changemaker.
This made me realize that for whatever reason, I just was desensitized to my audience and I would have to learn to perform without taking as many cues from them as I was used to. This never happened to me as a public speaker. Whenever I’m giving a talk, one of my favorite things is to build that rapport with the people who are there and to enjoy that moment of connection.
Maybe it was my lack of experience, or the fact that I was kind-of, sort-of in character. But improv was different.
But then I started to think that this might not be such a bad skill to develop! Getting used to creating and performing for an audience that you can’t immediately see.
Like it or not, this is a more common way creators are having to work these days.
People have to create and edit online videos, hit publish, and hope they land as expected.
This isn’t exactly new. Writers have worked like that as long as we’ve had the written word. But it is increasingly common.
Here are some things I’ve learned about performing well under those circumstances…
Get in front of a physical audience when you can.
Just because creating for an invisible audience is more common, that doesn’t mean that the physical audience is less important. Quite the opposite. I think being able to create and perform for a physical audience is perhaps more important.
When you’re in that moment in front of a crowd, you’re actually teaching yourself about audience reaction. And it’ll be important for retaining that muscle memory when you aren’t around an audience.
A seasoned performer has those instincts about when a crowd will lean in, when they’ll be uncomfortable, and how they’ll ride every moment of your performance. Stand-up comedians are perhaps the best at this, knowing how slightly tweaking a delivery will flow through a crowd in a very different way.
When you don’t have your face-to-face connection with your audience, it’ll be harder to pull those strings. But if you have a good innate awareness of that rise and fall, you can navigate the distance much more easily.
Think of your audience’s likely state at viewing.
You play differently to different crowds, yeah? Another thing I picked up from improv is that some jokes will land better with the 730 pm crowd that comes looking for sharp, layered humor. Then there’s the stuff that plays better with the 1030 pm audience that might be slightly intoxicated.
You can still be yourself at either show, but anticipating your crowd’s state helps you adjust the way you lean.
This is not terribly different from adjusting the way you’ll create for people differently based on how they’ll be consuming your material. Let’s say you’re a video content creator. Is your audience a captive audience that lights up when they see a new release? You’re probably in a better spot to start your videos cinematically versus somebody whose content mostly interrupts potential viewers mid-scroll.
Having a quick start and grabbing attention early on is more important.
Don’t be afraid to visualize what your audience might be up to at the time you launch your work.
Get used to watching people watch your work.
Here’s another part of the process that gets easy to skip.
A lot of people don’t like watching their work being consumed. It’s uncomfortable and vulnerable. You feel a bit naked and like you’re being judged in real time.
It’s still worth it to move past that and watch people take in your work. Let a friend watch a video you made and see their reactions. Sit back as somebody goes through your art gallery.
Much like paying attention when you do have the opportunity to perform live, paying attention here will allow you to better understand what moments match with different responses. In doing so, you develop those instincts of how to best play to your audience’s interests.
Build confidence in your own voice.
Once again, the important lesson of trusting yourself proves to be vulnerable.
If you can’t hear your audience, you can’t rely on them to be your sole indicator on whether or not you’re a good performer. You have to find that in some other ways, including simply riding your own confidence in your voice.
The de-facto disclaimer is that you of course don’t want to be delusional or overconfident about your own voice. That’s why it’s also valuable to get coaching or feedback from somebody with helpful insight when you can.
For me, learning how to be confident with my own performance was perhaps the key to moving past my challenge in not connecting with my audience as easily via improv. I went ahead with what I had a sense would perform well, and soon enough, that psychological sound barrier started to dissolve a little.
Make for your micro-audience.
This is a tip I have for so many different things, and I could do a whole lot of writing on this practice alone. But essentially, instead of trying to perform for whatever crowd arrives, consider your micro-audience.
These are ten or so people who you feel like you’re really making your work for. When you sit down to write, it’s almost as if you’re putting all that stuff in a letter to these people.
I’ve always found it helpful to think that there’s a core group of people who really best represent the kind of people I like to create for. The people I like to perform for. It’s usually a combination of people who’ve seen my work and who’ve given me the sort of response I love to hear, and people I know who I wish could always be in my audience.
Of course you’ll often have larger and much more expansive crowds. But being able to focus on your people can help give you a clearer point to aim for.
Like I said earlier, so much of modern creativity is wrapped around the increasing need to perform for an audience you can’t always see. But if you develop the right instincts, you might soon enough be on the right path to carry the lessons you learn from a crowd over into those other spaces.