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22.01.2022 May I share with you a story. It’s a true story, containing a hero, a menagerie of amazing supporting characters, a few plot twists and and just enough pathos ...to keep it real. It’s my story. It’s not a short story but I’ll try to leave out the boring bits. I was born at almost the exact moment that John F Kennedy was assassinated. My dad liked to say the world suffered two blows that day. It’s true. June Knowles was pushing out her third child. Because her doctor was anticipating a difficult birth, he’d given June his last legal shot of heroin. So my mum is feeling no pain mid-contraction when a nurse bursts into the delivery room and shouts, Kennedy’s been shot! Apparently my mum then shouted, Whoopee! Shots for everyone! Appropriately, my parents named me John, after my Uncle. My father, Chuck Knowles, was a big tough actual cowboy. He grew up playing rough sports really well and later rode bucking broncos in the famous Calgary Stampede. He wanted a son that was just like him, and he got one. My sister. Wendy was a strong brave sporty gal who rode horses from the age of four. She became a record-winning professional jockey before changing saddles to take up dressage. Lately she has pivoted entirely and now espouses the healing benefits of equine therapy and connecting with horses on an equal and spiritual level. Chuck and Wendy bonded around horses. Little Johnny as I was known, was scared of them. I was even frightened of riding the pony dad bought for me. An ornery beast that I named Geronimo! who tried to bite me each time I climbed aboard. I was petrified of falling off, despite the fact that while riding this fierce shetland pony, my feet were practically touching the ground. (Fig. A) The worst ice hockey player in Canada. I was a scrawny, wimpy redhead whose dream was to become a clown or an inventor or a magician. Fifty years on, that is essentially what I have become. A professional improviser. An entertainer who creates comedy out of thin air. In grade school, I was that strange kid who would perform solo mime meets ‘the robot’ dances at assembly. (Fig. In high school, I became known as the guy that would take the prank to the next level. I once smuggled a chainsaw into the school and surprised everyone at assembly by emerging from the shadows during a boy’s innocent but very annoying rendition of Mr Bojangles, and chopping his guitar in half while he played. Despite nearly cutting off his fingers, Alan and I remain the closest of friends. (Fig. C) I was so convinced that my future lay in the theatre that I ignored the advice of Mrs Ferguson, my careers counsellor and chose as my grade 12 subjects: Art, Music, Drama, English, Law and Math. I barely passed Math. Who cares! My future was on the stage and Halifax had an excellent University with famous acting department. I confidently applied to audition. My application was confidently rejected. Admission required a pass in at least one Grade 12 science subject. Why didn’t I listen to Mrs Ferguson? I was gutted, but not deterred. I wrote a passionate letter to the Dean of the university asking for a chance to plead my case. He agreed. Appearing before a panel of professors, I performed a dramatic courtroom-style oscar-worthy piece of theatre illustrating how as a future professional actor, the arty courses that I had passed, will be much more beneficial to me than than learning the intricacies of Chemistry, saying While I do recall that the electron configuration of ‘1s2 2s2 2p6’ is known by the name NEON, I will work hard to ensure that one day, up in lights will be the name John Knowles. I concluded with a theatrical bow. The Dean looked at his other panel members, looked back at me and said, You’re in. Dalhousie Acting Department’s 1st year teacher was John Dunsworth. He played the iconic Jim Lahey character on the Canadian comedy Trailer Park Boys. If you’ve not seen it. Do yourself that favour. I loved every moment of acting school. I was amongst my tribe. I got to play the character of Lucky in a fantastic production of Waiting For Godot. I got heavily into every wild fun activity a University can offer. I got into trouble. The Dean looked at me and said, You’re out. I was gutted. But not deterred. Reasoning that I was just destined for bigger and better things, I auditioned for Ryerson, the NIDA of Canada. Thousands applied. Hundreds got to audition. They chose 30. My Edmund speech from King Lear killed. I grow, I prosper. Now Gods, stand up for bastards! I received a letter in the post. ‘You’re In. Determined not to screw up this rare opportunity, I worked extra hard. Broke but so happy, I chose to live walking distance from the school, by sharing a one room flat with Dad. Every night for two years, he pulled out the sofa bed and handed me the two cushions. He got the bed, I placed the cushions next to each other on the floor at the end of his bed, my head falling off at one end and my feet at the other. I couldn’t have cared less. I was an ac-tor. A thespian. Who cares if the flat was infested with cockroaches that crawled over my face at night. So what if there are hookers sheltering in our lobby each night, druggies out the back. John Knowles was in the big smoke learning his trade, honing his skills, planning his future. Chuck Knowles told everyone he met about Johnnie’s latest performance’. He’d sit in the front row, in his best brown suit and cowboy boots, beer in hand at the grottiest divey middle-of-nowhere clubs to watch any performance I did. Dad said to me, John, You never could ride a horse could you. Your sister is tougher than you. You’ll never be much of a cowboy, but I now know something. You can stand up in front of a crowd with nothing, and make people laugh, and I reckon that’s tougher than riding any bronc. Johnnie had come good. The next day, Mel Tuck, head of Ryerson’s Acting Department called me into his office and said. Your progression as an actor has been limited. We no longer believe you are Ryerson material. There was a letter taped to my locker door. "You’re Out. it read. Crushed and despondent, I flee the city of my failure aboard the Columbus New Zealand, (Fig. D) a German container ship sailing as far away as I can get from my shame. Australia will do. It’s far, Mum’s from there. In Sydney, I’m a stranger. A nobody who has done nothing. Zero friends, no history, no girlfriend. Greg Evans just shrugged his shoulders when I failed to impress even Dexter the matchmaking robot on TV’s Perfect match. (Fig. E) That said, I made the blooper reel when Greg challenged me to put my legs behind my head and I inadvertently split my pants on national TV. I did anything I could to be noticed, even competing in a Bathroom Baritone contest in which I sung the theme song to the Hercules cartoon. (Fig. F) I eventually made wonderful friends, many of them bandmates. Our bands, Step Back and The URGE CURVE played hundreds of pubs and to this day we still make music together, best mates for life. I threw my hat into the cabaret ring with Gods Cowboys, but I kept trying to slip impro into the scripted shows. One Sunday night in 1989, i accompanied a flatmate to see a show at Belvoir Street Theatre. A raucous crowd cheered and howled with laughter as actors were challenged to play crazy theatre games, create songs from scratch and invent characters on-the-spot. A tall player named Michael Gregory did a hilarious scene in which a Dickens-style gravedigger searches for a body to bury. Later in the show, the same gravedigger showed up unexpectedly in other scenes, still searching, to even bigger laughs. I was captivated. Hooked. I must learn to play this thing known as Theatresports. Immediately, I found a new tribe. I was welcomed into a community of performers, technicians and improvising musicians that respected laughter and appreciated my goofiness. Show after show, year after year, we built the little theatre company into a solid business with a great reputation. Mentors like Michael Gregory, Rebecca De Unamuno, Murray Fahey, Ewan Campbell and Marko Mustac eventually became my playing partners as brilliant new improvisers scratched at the door. When the company attempted to expand, shot itself in the foot and found itself insolvent, I joined a handful of players who used our own money to buy the company back from the receivers. Theatresports is more than a pastime or a business to us. It’s our art form. It is our community. Our passion. We train school kids to express themselves with creativity and confidence and corporate people to be authentic. Impro Australia, as we are now called has introduced me to a swag of the most beautiful souls. A colourful collection of dynamic performers and quirky misfits. Brilliant minds and consummate clowns. This company of improvisers has given me amazing opportunities and shaped my life. I met my wife in the kitchen at Ewan Campbell’s birthday party. She introduced herself by saying, I’m Ronelle, hold my drink, I need to pee. She’s a class act, Chuck would say. For over a decade, I have been a key player in producing the Celebrity Theatresports show that raises money for CanTeen, the wonderful charity that supports teens living with cancer. We have donated thousands and thousands of dollars to their cause. Little did I know that my own four children would one day be reaching out to CanTeen for support. The impro landscape has shifted with the tides but our tight group of stalwarts have battled on optimistically carrying the flag up each successive hill. since 1985 this troupe has produced exceptional shows and taught ten of thousands of people to improvise without a penny of government financial support. Then Covid-19 shook our world like a meteor. Everything fell over. The Impro dinosaurs like me and our crew barely survived. Lockdown threatened to extinguish all we have built. No Shows. No income. No future. But we did survive. The Theatresports ALL-STARS show three days from today is our big roll of the die. A really large audience should just enable us to weather this storm. If we don’t sell a lot of tickets, there��s no telling what the future holds. Every artist involved is donating their talent. This Sunday night, I will again go to a Theatresports show. The crowd will howl with laughter. Michael Gregory will again be onstage working his comedy magic. Maybe the gravedigger will make an appearance. A kid in the audience will watch me improvising up there on the big Enmore Stage and hopefully, they too will get hooked. With some luck, my own kids will join the company one day just like other players’ grown up children have done, passing the mimed baton and continuing to produce theatre out of nothing long into the future. The hero in this story is laughter, and boy do we need that hero lately. I’d love you all to buy a ticket to the show, whether you can be there for the laughter or not. Tell me You’re in. BOOKINGS: https://premier.ticketek.com.au/shows/show.aspx

18.01.2022 A while back, I was fortunate enough to get to tell a story at the final The Moth Storytelling show at Giant Dwarf Theatre. There is a pooly videoed version (with bad sound) of my performance somewhere floating around. The Moth HQ in USA recently sent me the professionally recorded version of me telling that story, so I thought I would post it. It was the winning story on the night. If you are interested in learning more about the craft of oral storytelling, contact me to di...scuss my private coaching and also public courses. Cheers! John https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3vDi18jJLw

09.01.2022 If you have any young teens hanging around in need of a really fun School Holiday event...look no further!

04.01.2022 Tell people your story with confidence! Do you know someone that could honestly benefit from being a better oral communicator? It is you? Participants tell me again and again that taking this course with me has been a real game-changer for people like them. If you are shy, speak English as a second language or just feel that you are missing out on meeting people and making friends due to feeling underprepared or awkward when chatting in social and networking situations. ... MY 2 For 1 SPECIAL OFFER: Introduce the course to a freind who registers and you can take it yourself (or give the spot to someone else) for FREE, or, split the cost of 1 registration fee between you. It starts on Mon, 22 Mar 2021 6:30 PM AEST and goes for three consecutive Mondays for 2 hours each session (online). https://www.eventbrite.com.au/.../mastering-conversation... Check out my other courses including 'Storytelling' and 'Find The Funny' at: www.knowlesbyheart.com