Image credit: alphaspirit
“Where did you train?”
The woman at the National Speakers Association meeting looked at me expectantly.
“I taught myself,” I said.
Her face scrunched up. “No, I mean where did you learn improv?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I read books and figured it out.”
She looked at me like I’d just admitted to performing surgery after watching YouTube videos.
“So… what gives you the authority to teach this?”
Translation (at least in my head): You’re not qualified.
That conversation haunted me for years. Every time I saw another speaker’s bio - “Trained at Second City,” “Graduate of UCB” - I felt that familiar wave of inadequacy wash over me.
I’ve been doing improv for over 30 years. Built a successful speaking business around it for 20. And for most of that time, I’ve carried a secret shame: I have almost zero formal training.
The “Yes, But” Voice
Here’s what I’ve learned: We all have that thing. That “yes, but” voice in our heads.
“Yes, I’m good at my job, BUT I don’t have an MBA.”
“Yes, I have great ideas, BUT English isn’t my first language.”
“Yes, I’m experienced, BUT I’m not good with technology.”
“Yes, I’m qualified, BUT I didn’t go to the right school.”
"Yes, I'm successful, BUT I still respond to text messages by calling the other person." (You know who you are. Stop that!)
That voice? It’s not protecting you. It’s holding you back.
For me it was: “Yes, I’m a successful improv speaker, BUT I don’t have formal training.”
My “Improper” Education
Here’s my improv pedigree: Second semester of my freshman year of college, I got into the campus improv group. For the next year, until the end of of my Sophomore year, I learned from the senior who directed our group. By the end of sophomore year, I was the director, not because I was an over-qualified improv comedy prodigy - I was not the “Doogie Howser” of improv comedy (mental note - start working on spec script for “Doogie Howser, Improv Comedian”) - but because everyone else had graduated.
After that? I taught myself. Read every improv book I could find. Watched performances (this was before YouTube, so I couldn't even learn that way…). Attended the occasional one-day workshop. Then I’d go back to my group and experiment.
Try a technique. See what worked. Adjust. Repeat.
No Second City. No UCB. No formal certification saying I knew what I was doing.
Just me, some books, and a willingness to figure it out.
The Moment Everything Changed
For years, I assumed this made me less-than. Why would anyone hire the self-taught guy when they could get someone with “real” credentials?
Then something kept happening.
After workshops, people would pull me aside: “I’ve heard other people teach ‘Yes, And,’ but the way you explained it finally made it click.”
“Your approach feels different - more practical, less theatrical.”
“This actually makes sense for how we communicate at work.”
One woman recently told me her company had hired another improv trainer. She paused, looked around, then said: “Let’s just say… well done. Well done.”
That’s when it hit me: My lack of formal training wasn’t a bug. It was a feature.
Reframing Your Insecurity
Why was it a feature? Three reasons:
First, everyone who goes through the same training system tends to emerge with the same approach. Second City graduates teach Second City methods. UCB alumni use UCB techniques. They're all excellent - but they're also similar. My self-taught path meant my approach was different by default.
Second, I couldn't just accept what a teacher told me. I had to test everything myself. Try a technique with my group. Watch it fail spectacularly (like the time I did a martial arts “sticky hands” drill with my group. No, it’s not what you are probably thinking it is…). Figure out why it failed. Adapt it. Try again. This constant experimentation made me more critical of techniques. I kept what worked and modified what didn't until I had something that actually clicked.
Third, since I was teaching myself while also directing an improv group, I had to immediately figure out how to teach these concepts to others. No luxury of mastering it first. I was learning on Monday and teaching on Tuesday. This forced me to break down complex ideas into simple, actionable steps that real people could actually use.
Plus, I was pulling from everywhere - my corporate day job, my martial arts training, psychology books, communication workshops. While traditionally trained improvisers were learning from other improvisers, I was cross-pollinating from completely different fields.
The result? An approach that's uniquely mine. Maybe messier than the "proper" way. Definitely less orthodox. But tested in real rooms with real people who needed real results.
This isn't about credentials being bad - they're still valuable! It's about recognizing that your perceived weakness might actually be your unique strength.
Your “Weakness” Can Be Your Differentiator
This isn’t just my story. It’s yours too.
Right now, you’re probably sitting on what you think is a weakness:
- Young? You bring fresh energy and new perspectives.
- Older? You have wisdom and proven resilience.
- Career changer? You bring cross-industry innovation.
- Introvert? You listen and think deeply.
- Too emotional? You connect authentically with people.
- Too analytical? You catch problems others miss.
That thing you’re insecure about? Might be exactly what makes you valuable.
Making Your Insecurity Work
This connects directly to what I call “Explore and Express Your Core” - the “E” step from my YES, AND Framework. Here’s how I explain it in my upcoming book:
One of the reasons I love improv comedy - and creativity in general - is because it’s a fast track to discovering your you-ness.
When you perform improv, there’s no script. No director. No chance to go back, redo, or edit. You’re just there, in the moment, being fully yourself and letting whatever comes out… come out. Sure, there are techniques to help you make better choices and avoid crossing the line, but at the end of the day, your brilliance onstage is simply you - collaborating with your scene partners, creating something that has never existed before.
It’s pure creative expression.
And that purity is exactly why improv terrifies some people; because it strips away everything but your truest self. No filter. No façade. Who you are at your core comes out.
That same truth applies to life, work, leadership, and especially to times of change. Saying “yes, and” to who you are - individually, as a team, or as an organization - is critical if you want to harness change, unlock brilliance, and transform apathy into excitement.
This is what “Yes, And” is all about. Saying “yes” to identifying who you are - including your insecurities and unconventional path - and saying “and” to doing something with it.
My lack of formal training? That’s part of my core. Instead of hiding it, I had to say “Yes, I’m self-taught, AND that gives me a unique perspective.”
I still sometimes feel insecure that I don’t have 30 years of corporate executive experience like some speakers. But you know what? That means I’m not talking AT audiences from some ivory tower. I’m learning WITH them.
Your insecurity only holds you back if you say “yes, but” to it. The magic happens when you say “yes, and.”
The Both/And Approach
Let me be clear: Get the training. Earn the degrees. Build the experience. Those things matter.
AND also recognize that the thing you’re insecure about - that gap, that difference, that “weakness” - might be your secret weapon.
(Remember how I mentioned tying my martial arts background into my improv and training? This is very much a Yin/Yang idea. It’s not all or nothing, it all blends together…)
Netflix had no experience creating content. Airbnb’s founders weren’t hoteliers. Tesla’s CEO wasn’t from Detroit.
They succeeded not despite their lack of traditional experience, but because of it. They brought something different to industries that had been doing things the same way for decades.
Your Turn
This week, try this:
- Identify your biggest professional insecurity
- Complete this sentence: “Yes, I [insecurity], AND that means I can [unique value]”
- Find one way to lean into it this week instead of hiding it
Because here’s the truth that woman at NSA didn’t understand: Authority doesn’t just come from credentials. It comes from the unique value you create.
And sometimes, that unique value comes from the very thing you’re trying to hide.
What insecurity could you reframe as your superpower?
Struggling to figure out how to turn your "weakness" into your differentiator? DM or email me (avish@avishparashar.com) and tell me your biggest professional insecurity. I read every email, and I'd love to help you reframe it. (Fair warning: I might use your story in a future article - anonymously, of course!)
Or do you want to help your team turn their insecurities into superpowers? I deliver keynotes and workshops that show organizations how to use the "Yes, And" mindset to transform perceived weaknesses into competitive advantages. Let's set up a time to talk about bringing this message to your next event: https://bookme.name/avishp/lite/keynote-discussion-with-avish-parashar