So my husband, Tony, started using the phrase, “Both feet!”
(usually bellowed) after he learned it from an elderly southern woman. (Who
else?) She had made sweet potato pie, and after he complimented her on its
deliciousness, she said, “I put both feet in that pie.” Ah yes, a phrase, in
that context, at once disgusting and fantastic.
Tony, a jazz musician, will sometimes yell it after a band
mate lays down a particularly perilous and striking improvised solo. I’ve been
known to shout it out when I make some crazy, intuitive leap in the kitchen, like
putting a dash of Pernot in linguine and clams. (Delicious, by the way.)
“Both feet!” means commitment. Full-on commitment to the
moment. If you’re going to do this thing, then take some risks, allow for the
possibility of it being great. Don’t waste your time dibble-dabbling your
toesies in the water to check the temperature and/or for sharks –plunge right
in. Often, artistically, there are great rewards. Sometimes, of course, there are sharks.
Improv comedians, the really great ones, are gonzo with the
“Both feet!” mentality. I’ve done a bit of improv in my life, and I was always
a ‘glue’ sort of performer. I responded well to others, kept the scene moving,
and occasionally got a laugh. I was middle-of-the-road. The great ones are a
pleasure to watch. They propel a scene forward with the most unlikely choices,
and the utmost commitment – which is the source of the funny. Here’s an
example. This isn’t the best Whose Line is it Anyway out there, but it’s
typical.
The nice thing about improv comedy is that you’re usually
working with at least one other person, who can hopefully catch that crazy
curve ball you just threw, even if it was ill-advised.
Not so in writing. You’re on your own, baby. Unless you
happen to have a fantastic writing group – or even just a friend or two who
give you excellent feedback.
My fellow Scribberati gave me stellar advice on a particular
chapter of my WIP, Ursula Evermore and the Case of the Man Who Wasn’t. I made
the classic mistake of showing the gun, but not using the gun, metaphorically
speaking. “If you’re going to threaten that this crazy, disastrous thing might
happen,” said my group, “Then have it happen – otherwise your readers will be
disappointed.” But, I thought, it
would be disastrous, and I have no idea how I could possibly get my characters
out of such a corner!
Ah, but of course, that’s exactly what makes great, exciting
fiction. So I did it. I threw them into that situation, and then spent the next
few days pondering just how in the hell they were going to get out of this
crazy mess. I figured it out. And of course, the story is far better for it.
Both feet!
