My back was to the audience in a nondescript Montreal studio. Behind me, a dozen classmates—fellow initiates into the art of plain-clothes clowning—sat in dark red plastic chairs. We were attending a workshop led by Los Angeles clown Kevin Krieger (pictured), and a few feet to the left of me stood my competitor. My mission? Nothing less than to Save the Show. 

The exercise was simple: each clown had a minute to make the audience laugh. It was entirely improvised, no safety net. All you could do was launch into the void and find out whether you would land or flop. There were no red noses in sight, no props to hide behind. Just an offer and sixty seconds.

I stared at the grey wall as I overheard my fellow clown do … something that got the crowd going. I couldn’t tell what the bit was, but the ...