Improvisation is doubt with good posture. You walk out there pretending you know what you’re doing, which is the first lie necessary for the evening to continue. The audience wants confidence. The music wants honesty. These two rarely share a dressing room. Doubt shows up early. Tunes your instrument while you’re not looking. Whispers helpful nonsense like this worked last time. Improvisation happens when you ignore that voice just long enough to make a mess worth listening to.

The trick isn’t eliminating doubt. That’s for politicians. The trick is keeping it on a short leash. When doubt runs the show, you get polite music. Good improvisation lives in the narrow space where you’re unsure but proceeding anyway. That’s where the interesting stuff leaks out. That’s also where people start asking if you meant to do that, which is the highest compliment available in a society addicted to instructions.