Think of your brain as an excited puppy, trying to race ahead to the future. Here’s an exercise to get it back to the present.
Two people up. They get a suggestion and then assume a starting position. Something not too big is best—a hip cocked to one side is better than a big crouch while screaming. The people should be able to see each other. No stepping downstage and gazing out over the audience.
Then they wait 60 seconds. No object work. The scene isn’t starting. They just wait 60 seconds and regard each other. After 60 seconds, the teacher says “start,” and they do. 60 seconds on stage is a hugely long time. At first your brain is racing: you’re thinking of ideas of how you might start the scene. You pick one. Then you don’t like that idea and you change it. Then you’re trying to guess what the other person is thinking, and you change your mind again. You become self-conscious about your posture and adjust it.
Then you start to settle. You’re still thinking things, but it’s less frantic. You start to settle on a vague, not-quite-locked-down notion of who you are and how you are feeling as a character.
The self-consciousness and panic boils away. You relax. Then, you’re calm. You have a general sense of the dynamic—I’m nervous; she’s stern or I’m excited; he’s also excited. Ideas float into your brain, but now they’re like pieces of paper gently floating on a breeze, not gunshots at your feet commanding you to dance.
And then the scene starts. You will be listening well for the first time. Don’t worry if the scenes begin a bit slowly. They will quickly become very compelling and good