The Last Laugh

This article is the twelfth and final part of my Now What? series—twelve centering practices from improv that help us when life goes off-script.

Now What? – Practice 12: End on a Laugh

This article is the twelfth and final part of my Now What? series—twelve centering practices from improv that help us when life goes off-script.

Over the past weeks we’ve explored the lessons improv taught me: saying yes, heightening the moment, telling a story, being present, playing the scene you’re in, seeing mistakes as gifts, sharing the spotlight, following the fear, making bold choices, acting from the top of your intelligence, and more.

All of them matter. But today, we end with the one that might seem the simplest: end on a laugh.

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Why It Matters in Improv

Improv scenes don’t have scripts, so nobody knows when they’ll end. The best improvisers develop a sense of timing—knowing when the scene has reached its peak, when the audience has had enough, and when to walk away.

And more often than not, the perfect ending is the laugh.

It doesn’t mean you chase jokes. It means you recognize when joy has landed. You stop there. You let the audience leave smiling.

A sloppy scene drags on too long. A great scene knows how to end strong.

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Why It Matters in Life

When life goes off-script, the ending isn’t always up to us. But the way we carry ourselves to the end of a season, a role, a relationship, or even a whole chapter—that part we can influence.

Here’s what I’ve learned: endings stick. People don’t always remember the messy middle, but they do remember how you finished.

If you can end with some joy, some lightness, some laughter—you give yourself and others a gift.

It doesn’t mean denying pain. It doesn’t mean ignoring the losses. It means you refuse to let bitterness write the last line.

Even funerals remind us of this. The ones we walk away from smiling through tears—because someone told a story that captured the humor and humanity of the person we loved—are the ones that stay with us. The laughter doesn’t cancel the grief. It sanctifies it.

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The Final Practice

So as you move through your own unscripted moments, don’t forget this last practice.

End on a laugh.

Not because life is always funny, but because joy is always possible.

It’s a way of saying: even in chaos, I choose to finish with light. Even in loss, I will not let despair have the last word.

And if improv has taught me anything, it’s this: laughter is not frivolous.

It’s holy.

So when the scene ends—whether it’s a job, a season, or just this day—end it with joy. End it with hope. End it on a laugh.

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Series Wrap

And that’s it. Twelve practices from improv for when life goes off-script.

This series has been one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Because it’s not really about improv. It’s about us. About the moments when the plan falls apart, and we need something to hold onto.

For me, improv was that something. It taught me how to stay centered, how to trust, how to create joy in the chaos. And I hope along the way, these practices have given you something to lean on too.

This isn’t the end. I’m already working on expanding Now What? into a book—so these twelve practices will live on in a bigger, more complete form.

But for now, thank you. Thank you for reading, for sharing, for commenting, and for simply being here.

We don’t get to choose the script. But we do get to choose how we respond.

And when the next “now what?” moment comes for you—I hope you remember: say yes, add an and, tell a story, share the spotlight, find the game, follow the fear, make bold choices, act from the top of your intelligence, and when it’s all said and done…

End on a laugh.