Open-mic

Is this thing on?

To all the new subscribers, welcome! The ff newsletter is taking shape slowly and I’m so grateful to have you here. Today I am introducing the second series of this newsletter:

I tried stand-up comedy for the first time three years ago… and promptly stepped away because it scared the sh*t out of me. But recently, in the spirit of embracing ‘fvckaround, findout’ (ff), I picked it back up. I’m amazed by how much there is to learn through practicing stand-up.

Stand-up comedy is truly special because there are almost no rules. There is no one ‘correct’ way to make people laugh. It’s a black box. And it’s also incredibly accessible. Anyone can do it. Chances are, regardless of where you are reading this from, there is an open-mic happening near you tonight. 

Through the ‘open-mic’ series I want to share the journey of exploring this open-ended craft. I think the lessons learned from trying to make complete strangers laugh are universal to creation in general. My true goal with this segment, as crazy as it sounds, is to get you to try stand-up one day as well. 

To prove that literally anyone can try this out (and get you to laugh at my expense), at the end of every ‘open-mic’ article you will find a clip of me performing a bit on stage.

Now let’s get this show started.

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Surviving a bomb

I’d like to make one thing clear: I am a total novice. Three years ago I tried stand-up for the first time in my college town and it was, in a word, brutal. It was almost too convenient that Covid hit promptly after my first show because I had an excuse as to why I was never trying it again. It took me two and a half years to muster up the courage to give it another go. Now, since July of 2022, I have done 15 open mics and even a paid show (yea…i’m rich).

I’ve had a lot of fun with it recently, and although I don’t have plans for how it fits into my future, I just know there’s nothing quite like it. That’s good enough for me.

The thing about stand-up, and why I think it’s one of the most robust creative outlets, is because it’s one of the few forms of creation where you get instantaneous feedback.

When you post a tweet or video, although the comments and likes suggest how your content was received, you never know for sure. Online just isn’t the same as IRL. With digital output there are significant variables at play such as the algorithm or timing of your post. With stand-up, you get your results right then and there. It’s either funny, or not funny. There’s no guess-work. And for that very reason I think people are scared to try it out.

When you get on stage in front of strangers, especially for the first time, it’s like you’re naked for everyone to see. And when they don’t laugh at your jokes…that’s that, they hated your naked body. There’s nowhere to hide. No place to run. This is called ‘bombing’ and it’s the worst feeling in the world.

Mark Normand, one of my all time favorites, shared a great take on bombing in an interview with Lex Fridman:

I think a lot more people could do comedy and probably figure it out, but the bombing is so brutal it keeps them away. I went to Minneapolis recently. Great city. Beautiful city. Sun was shining and it was amazing. I asked someone why more people don’t live there and they said that the winters are so bad it keeps everybody out. I feel the same about comedy - the bombs are brutal like a cold winter.

As Mark suggests, if you can withstand the cold and brutal feeling of bombing, then eventually you will experience the warmth of greatness. I think it’s fair to say this theory can extend to most creative work. Every creative practice has its own version of bombing - it might look something like getting zero likes, no new subscribers, or maybe even someone publicly dunking on you.

Most people can’t stand bombing. But it’s par for the course when you put yourself out there.

I realize this is not a ground-breaking concept. Most of us understand that fear of failure gets in the way of doing anything meaningful.

Here’s the thing: we all know not to fear failure…but do we really know? I see stand-up as an accessible medium where you can find out what this means in one night. In one night, you have a chance to overcome fear in a real way. And if you do it more than one night, say maybe several months, you might learn some other things.

Some other things

In the past two weeks I hit 5 open-mics (most of which did not go as planned) and recently something clicked: 

• Content (videos, writing, images) is simply a medium for transmitting an impulse in your head to someone else

This simple, borderline stonerish idea has allowed me to stomach bombing more.

In the context of comedy, a joke is a way of capturing hilarity and communicating it in your own set of words.

I have come to realize that if people don’t find something as funny as I do, all it means is that my communication (tone, body language, word choice, cadence etc..) was off. For some reason this is way easier to roll with, as opposed to challenging the core of what I thought was funny in the first place (my impulse).

When I challenge my own impulse, it feels like I am rejecting myself. And that’s painful. That’s what bombing feels like.

It’s important to avoid doing this because our impulse (genuine, unforced emotion) is the only real thing we have. When we doubt our impulse too much, we lose touch with it.

So trust your impulse, tweak your content. In other words, separate yourself from your output. The ability to do this well leads to consistently engaging an audience (be entertaining) while outputting something authentic (not selling-out).

But this is easier said than done. It’s hard to assess your own output from the third-person. The act of separating yourself from your work is painful. A dramatic but accurate way to put it is it feels like ‘killing yourself’.

For me, I often write when I am excited by something. In the moment, I’m thinking “this is gold”. It’s difficult to then use my same brain to tear that writing apart. Every great creative achieved stardom because they figured out their own way of dealing with this. I really love what Jerry Seinfeld has to say on the topic.

Seinfeld has two modes that he writes jokes in: baby mode and critic mode. In baby mode, whatever he puts down is gold, baby. He can do no wrong. He will spend a full writing session in baby mode, writing anything and everything. The next day he will step into critic mode and dismantle that baby (*insert abortion joke here*). Red pen everywhere. 

The harmony of the baby and critic is what leads to timeless jokes that reach across aisles. 

Finding this harmony in your own creative effort is the key to effectively conveying what’s in your head to an audience.

Long way to go

As mentioned, it’s only been 6 months since I started hitting open-mics more consistently. There is a lot (a whole lot) more to learn before I start to feel truly comfortable on stage making strangers laugh.

Currently, a few things that I struggle with are re-listening to my performances and consistently sitting down to write jokes. Both of which are critical to improve.

In Open-mic #02 I will update you on these two fronts and relay new insights gained from hitting the metro-detroit open-mic comedy scene (it’s a jungle out here).

Thanks for reading, here’s a recap of the main ideas from this first open-mic edition:

• Bombing is the way

  • Those who bomb gracefully become great eventually

• It’s not you, it’s the content

  • If something truly moved you, never doubt that feeling when/if you can’t convey it to others..it’s a content problem not a ‘you’ problem

• Harmonize your inner-baby and inner-critic

  • Or simply Create first, Edit second. You can learn more about Seinfeld’s process here

Finally, here’s a link to a bit I did a few weeks ago…

…If you want to wash that down (you really should), check out three of my favorite comedians who are absolutely killing it these days

1. Ralph Barbosa

2. Mark Normand

3. Fahim Anwar

Curtains.

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