This sounds a little silly, but it had never occurred to me that anyone could just start doing stand-up.
I knew open mics were a thing, but I’ve always struggled so hard to shed my sense of embarrassment. It was hard for me to imagine that in other people.
My dad always told me I should do stand-up, after I’d rant for way too long about something that was very important to a twelve year old. I wasn’t attempting to be funny, but hey, I guess he was a little bit right.
My parents had exposed me to comedy pretty early; mostly in the form of really bad 2000’s movies, ones where the adult jokes would “go over my head”. My dad took me to see live theatre with him, and he’d give me unsolicited advice. Make your actions larger than you think they need to be. Act for the people in the back. This solidified into my mushy child brain, and so did the affinity for live performance. Still, as much as I enjoyed it, I didn’t think I’d ever actually try to get on stage.
When Chandler casually started going to a few open mics, it was my first experience of someone I knew personally doing stand-up. I was hooked. Everything was a potential bit now. I was seeing him perform sets that I helped him write.
I still spent a while waffling over whether or not I would actually get on stage myself. I tried to work through all of my fears and worst-case scenarios. I just KNEW I would faceplant the first time I stepped on stage.
I was worried that I would tic a lot on stage. I have Tourette’s, and it typically gets worse with nerves.
I was scared that I’d freeze on stage and forget my material. A big insecurity of mine is in my communication skills.
(sorry Caspar)
So I prepared! I physically wrote out my jokes, wrote them out again, said my jokes out loud a billion times, said them in my head a billion times, and drove myself crazy in the process. I figured it would be like muscle memory. I don’t always go this overboard anymore, but it helped ease some nerves.
I wrote a joke about having Tourette’s, as a way of explanation.
I didn’t trip my first time, but in case I had, I was going to say something along the lines of, “That’s gonna be funnier than my entire set!”. I actually ended up using this later. Woohoo, preparation!
I noted what mistakes I had seen other amateur comics make. A big one was being too inebriated to tell jokes well. Comedy is all about timing, and I wanted to be keen enough to deliver my jokes to the best of my ability. I decided to be completely sober for my first set, which served me pretty well.
Lastly, my mantra became “I have never said anything wrong in my entire life and everyone loves me”. Essentially, I was doing my best to feign confidence, via the “fake it ’til you make it approach.
I had written out a really bad story-based set, realized it had zero punchlines, and scrapped it. It was an earnest attempt at writing something, but I saw it as a way to get all of the bad ideas out. Failure is important sometimes. That set has never, and will never, see the light of day. Rest in peace! After that, I started writing down everything I said that made my friends laugh. After a week or two, I had roughly 4 minutes of jokes.
Working up the courage to practice my jokes in front of Chandler was almost harder than working up the courage to do them on stage. But having someone there to help write and re-word jokes was essential. He stopped me in the middle of it; “Why are you doing a character? Just act like you’re talking to me”. I was doing a character, and I hadn’t even realized. I think I wanted something to hide behind, and it weakened the set. Authenticity goes a long way.
Eventually, Chandler peer-pressured me gave me the encouragement I needed. Initially, I didn’t want to tell any friends, but Chandler did for me which ended up being really great. Suddenly, I had a support network of people I love excited to see me try something new.
Sometimes with all the prep in the world, you still need a push!
Never Had It, Never Will 