The ironic thing is that for seasoned comic, bombing is not a huge deal, but it was absolutely devastating to me the first time it happened. Before I forget what it felt like, here's the story:
It was at an open mic. I did the first joke, and got a couple of laughs. Next joke - dead silence. I pointed out that I wasn't sure if that was a great joke, which just made it worse if anything. At this point I wasn't happy, but I thought the next and last joke was the best one, so maybe I can wring a few laughs out of the audience. Again, stone dead faces throughout the whole thing, while in my head I'm going "c'mon, laugh". But looking insecure is usually death on stage. I sheepishly finished and sat back down. I've had individual jokes not do well before, but I've been to move on and maybe get a laugh on a subsequent joke. The sustained silence was different, and it was painful.
While in my chair, I was warm in the face, almost wanting to cry. It sounds melodramatic, but that's how it felt. The rest of the night buzzed by, and I had the distinct feeling that everyone else in that room didn't want me to be there. I felt that the people didn't just think that I wasn't funny, but that they also didn't like me personally. I left at 2am, and complained outside in front of the bar with another guy who also didn't do well. That helped a little. I then drove to a late night Taco Bell, and got myself some sympathy tacos.
From there it spiraled into thinking nothing I did was funny, and I had no business pursuing comedy. There are people who really want to do standup, and they just don't have "it". What if that's me, and I couldn't recognize it? For the next couple of days I was a little depressed, and then got angry. Screw those guys, why should I care what they think of me, if they hate me so much? That's when I realized I was being silly, and I needed to not worry about it so much.
There's a line of thought that open mics are only to practice being on stage. There's truth in that, but more truth for a seasoned/working comic. Here's what I mean; since I haven't had any chances to do shows for a "real" audience, open mics are where I've gotten any direct audience feedback. That's why I give it more weight than it merits, and why it hit me so hard.
It's like the breakup of your first real relationship. It's painful, but you almost need to have that happen to you to become an adult. The difference between bombing and a breakup is that bombing is something that happens quite often. So often, that your skin thickens up and it becomes not that big a deal at all, just a learning experience.
And I've learned a few things, two of which I covered in the "The Hard Way" post, but some more things that helped me "get over" feeling bad for myself.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
The hard way
There are some things that I would have rather known ahead of time, because it would have avoided embarrassment. Maybe you have to learn the hard way for it to stick. Here are my lessons so far (by the way, the second person "you"s are referring to me; this isn't advice, just notes to myself):
-You're not as funny as you think you are. Those things you say that makes your friends laugh, might not make people who don't know you laugh.
-Shocking is easy, but not necessarily funny on its own. Eating boogers is gross, yes, and.....? Besides, "shocking" usually isn't even shocking; it's more boring than anything. My point is to have a point to go with the shock, if you're going that way.
-Merely observing a truth might not be funny, especially if it's a truth that everyone already knows.
-"Brevity is the soul of wit". That doesn't mean jokes have to be short, but useless details obscure what you're trying to convey.
-You have to try. It's very, very rare to be naturally hilarious enough to just go up and be funny consistently without trying (see the first note).
The list grows as I learn, and there are a lot of things that I still have to learn to do/be. For instance, I'm getting better at having a thicker skin, which is a requirement for comedy. Something else I'd like to develop is to venture a little bit outside of setup/punchline kinds of jokes, a conveying of an idea. That's part of the process of learning to "walk", I suppose, which is the theme of this site.
-You're not as funny as you think you are. Those things you say that makes your friends laugh, might not make people who don't know you laugh.
-Shocking is easy, but not necessarily funny on its own. Eating boogers is gross, yes, and.....? Besides, "shocking" usually isn't even shocking; it's more boring than anything. My point is to have a point to go with the shock, if you're going that way.
-Merely observing a truth might not be funny, especially if it's a truth that everyone already knows.
-"Brevity is the soul of wit". That doesn't mean jokes have to be short, but useless details obscure what you're trying to convey.
-You have to try. It's very, very rare to be naturally hilarious enough to just go up and be funny consistently without trying (see the first note).
The list grows as I learn, and there are a lot of things that I still have to learn to do/be. For instance, I'm getting better at having a thicker skin, which is a requirement for comedy. Something else I'd like to develop is to venture a little bit outside of setup/punchline kinds of jokes, a conveying of an idea. That's part of the process of learning to "walk", I suppose, which is the theme of this site.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Why I probably won't go anywhere
For a lot of comedians, this is their passion and for some their career. For me to say that I'd like to perform in front of an audience, it might come across like me telling a surgeon, "yeah, I've thought about cutting up some people, I'll give it a try". Not only would I be misunderstanding what it means to be a surgeon, but I'd also be disregarding the effort it took to become one.
There are dozens of open mics in Chicagoland, but I go to about 1 or 2 a week, which is paltry compared to many of the other comics. There are people who will go out every night, constantly honing their act, networking, etc. It can literally take up the same amount of time as a job, without pay. That might sound crazy to someone not trying to do comedy. The thing is, it sounds a little crazy to me. I admit to spending a decent amount of time thinking about comedy. But I don't want to go to an open mic (or two or three) every night. If I don't want to, and someone else does, then they're likely going to be better than I am, or at least more deserving.
Reputation matters, and you can't get that by doing this for a few months. I'm sure there are people who did some open mics, then went on with their lives, and years later they'll tell people "Yeah, I used to do comedy". No you didn't, and neither am I, not until I've been doing this for much longer.
The other reason I might not get anywhere is that I'm just not that funny. But that's another frustration of a new comic like me. There's no real way to know if you're funny or if other people think you're funny. I've been fortunate to do enough open mics to get recognized and get the occasional "good set" (congratulations on a job well done, sometimes it's just courteousness). The first time that happened I had split feelings. I was sitting next to someone who did well, and a comic told him "good set", saw me sitting next to him and said it to me too. A) It was clearly mostly because I had just been sitting next to him, but B) it still felt good to hear it. But back to my point, eventually you'll know if you're good because you'll be asked to do shows, or you'll ask to be in a show and the host/organizer ok's it.
I'm not at a point where I feel I have enough solid material to do a show, nor solid enough on stage to present that material. So, I'm not going to ask. And I haven't been doing this nearly long enough to where anyone is really going to accept me or ask me to be in a show. I want to clarify that I'm not complaining about this, just recognizing it. This is the process, and I'll have to put in the time. But to go back to my first point, if I'm not putting in the time that others are, maybe that means that my goal of performing never happens. There are ways to get on a showcase without being asked, and I'll likely go that route for my "first time", because it's a pretty common way to go (more on that in another post).
And that's another dangerous aspect of being so new; there's a very, very real possibility that I'm not cut out for this. But I won't know for a while. On the other hand, one could argue that there is no "goal", that this process IS the goal. There's a lot of truth in that, yes. But who wouldn't be bummed after realizing that they're ultimately not cut out for an endeavor that they've spent a decent amount of time on. If I could just remove the goal of performing for an audience, then I can't be disappointed. Too late, though, it's in my head, so it's not going away.
I'm not good with conclusions.
There are dozens of open mics in Chicagoland, but I go to about 1 or 2 a week, which is paltry compared to many of the other comics. There are people who will go out every night, constantly honing their act, networking, etc. It can literally take up the same amount of time as a job, without pay. That might sound crazy to someone not trying to do comedy. The thing is, it sounds a little crazy to me. I admit to spending a decent amount of time thinking about comedy. But I don't want to go to an open mic (or two or three) every night. If I don't want to, and someone else does, then they're likely going to be better than I am, or at least more deserving.
Reputation matters, and you can't get that by doing this for a few months. I'm sure there are people who did some open mics, then went on with their lives, and years later they'll tell people "Yeah, I used to do comedy". No you didn't, and neither am I, not until I've been doing this for much longer.
The other reason I might not get anywhere is that I'm just not that funny. But that's another frustration of a new comic like me. There's no real way to know if you're funny or if other people think you're funny. I've been fortunate to do enough open mics to get recognized and get the occasional "good set" (congratulations on a job well done, sometimes it's just courteousness). The first time that happened I had split feelings. I was sitting next to someone who did well, and a comic told him "good set", saw me sitting next to him and said it to me too. A) It was clearly mostly because I had just been sitting next to him, but B) it still felt good to hear it. But back to my point, eventually you'll know if you're good because you'll be asked to do shows, or you'll ask to be in a show and the host/organizer ok's it.
I'm not at a point where I feel I have enough solid material to do a show, nor solid enough on stage to present that material. So, I'm not going to ask. And I haven't been doing this nearly long enough to where anyone is really going to accept me or ask me to be in a show. I want to clarify that I'm not complaining about this, just recognizing it. This is the process, and I'll have to put in the time. But to go back to my first point, if I'm not putting in the time that others are, maybe that means that my goal of performing never happens. There are ways to get on a showcase without being asked, and I'll likely go that route for my "first time", because it's a pretty common way to go (more on that in another post).
And that's another dangerous aspect of being so new; there's a very, very real possibility that I'm not cut out for this. But I won't know for a while. On the other hand, one could argue that there is no "goal", that this process IS the goal. There's a lot of truth in that, yes. But who wouldn't be bummed after realizing that they're ultimately not cut out for an endeavor that they've spent a decent amount of time on. If I could just remove the goal of performing for an audience, then I can't be disappointed. Too late, though, it's in my head, so it's not going away.
I'm not good with conclusions.
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