What Comedy Taught Me About Psychiatry
Before I became a psychiatrist, I spent a fair amount of time on stage, although not in a lecture hall or clinical setting. During college, I was part of a long-form improv comedy group called the Sons of Liberty. We performed regularly, creating scenes on the spot from a single audience suggestion. The work required collaboration, timing, and an intuitive sense of human behavior. Around the same time, I explored stand-up comedy, writing and testing material at local comedy clubs. I would attend open mic nights with friends, performing short sets and closely watching how the audience responded.
Some nights a joke would land perfectly, generating a roomful of laughter. Other nights the same line might receive silence. Those moments taught me the importance of fine-tuning every part of the delivery, from word choice to cadence to timing. The rhythm and structure of how something is said can be just as important as the content itself. This process of refinement, of adjusting based on real-time feedback, became a valuable skill that I would later carry with me into clinical practice.
The Psychiatric Interview as Performance and Listening
In psychiatry, much of the work hinges on communication. Conducting a thorough psychiatric interview is not just about checking boxes or running through a list of symptoms. It is about understanding a person’s internal world, and that requires asking the right questions in the right way. When screening for historical syndromes or previous symptoms, subtle differences in phrasing can mean the difference between a closed-off answer and a revealing narrative.
Just like in comedy, I have learned to revise and adapt. If a question feels too clinical or abstract, I try again with more accessible language. Instead of asking, “Have you ever experienced anhedonia?” I might say, “Have there been times when you stopped enjoying the things that usually bring you happiness?” The goal is always clarity, and often that comes through empathy, rhythm, and thoughtful phrasing.
Improv and Real-Time Adaptation in Clinical Settings
The lessons from improv comedy are particularly relevant in psychiatric settings, especially when working in fast-paced environments. Improv teaches you to stay present, listen closely, and respond thoughtfully, even when you have no idea what is coming next. In psychiatric practice, this kind of flexibility is essential. Whether navigating an intake with an unpredictable patient or responding to an evolving crisis, the ability to adapt in the moment is a vital clinical skill.
This is especially true on inpatient psychiatric units, where scenarios can change rapidly. I have had experiences where a patient was calm and cooperative one moment, and then suddenly became agitated, threatening, and began throwing furniture. These types of high-stakes situations require quick thinking and a grounded presence. Improv training helped me develop those qualities. You learn not to panic, but to respond intentionally. You learn how to use your voice, body language, and words to de-escalate rather than provoke.
In improv, there is a principle known as “yes, and,” which means you accept what your scene partner gives you and build upon it. I apply a similar mindset in clinical interactions. I listen to what the patient is saying, acknowledge their experience, and then gently guide the conversation to extract the most useful clinical information. It is a dynamic exchange, not a rigid structure, and being able to read the energy of the interaction is often as important as the questions themselves.
From the Stage to the Clinic
Psychiatry is not comedy, but both fields require a deep sensitivity to human emotion, a strong sense of timing, and the ability to connect with others. Comedy taught me to pay attention, to fine-tune my delivery, and to remain flexible in the moment. Psychiatry taught me to apply those skills in service of healing. The end goal may be different, but the tools are surprisingly similar.
There are also moments of overlap. Sometimes laughter can be a powerful therapeutic release. Sometimes a small moment of levity can open the door to a deeper, more honest conversation. Knowing how and when to introduce that levity, and how to bring a conversation back to its core purpose, is part of the nuanced art of psychiatry.
