My transition from shrinking violet to stand-up giggle maker.
Towards the end of April this year I was offered, through my work, the opportunity to attend a ‘Comedy Academy’ run by Funny Women, as part of the Brighton Fringe. I was aware of Funny Women, because they are very supportive of the domestic abuse charity I was working for, but I dithered briefly about whether or not I should sign up. This would be two thirds of my precious bank holiday weekend. Maybe it could be better spent… sorting out my sock drawer or doing any one of a number of other things I had determinedly NOT been doing for several months. As a naturally shy person, I also have to push myself to do anything involving new groups of people, and my go to response is, ‘Maybe it would be easier not to?’
But I signed up. And I participated fully. I met some really brilliant, inspiring, laugh-out-loud funny women, whom I’m now proud to call my friends. And I loved it! I even participated in the showcase at the end of the weekend, doing a short stand-up set, having been adamant until the Sunday lunchtime that I had absolutely nothing funny to say. What’s more, people laughed. They actually laughed! They laughed, and I buzzed. I came away from that course on a natural high, like little else I’ve ever experienced. Yes, really.
Six months down the line, I am hooked (in the featured image I am performing in Worthing). I know that I’m not alone in having been one of those people whose nearest and dearest had suggested that I might be quite funny, but who had never quite had the courage to do anything about it. I thought that if I made any public use of my humour, beyond my Facebook statuses, that would be exactly what would happen. I now know, seeing it in print, how ridiculous that sounds, but that’s the truth. And, without wishing to generalise, I believe that fear may be a more female affliction than a male one.
Fired up by my experience at the Funny Women academy, I entered the Funny Women Awards and, at the end of May, I was first up in the Brighton heats, at the Komedia. This was my first ‘proper’ stand-up gig. I realise now that this may have been a kind of masochistic lunacy. There were up to a hundred people in the audience, and the talent in my heat was incredible. (Desiree Burch, who went on to win the Awards, was one of the competitors!) For forty-eight hours beforehand, I must have been a delight to live with. I couldn’t sleep properly and I was tetchy, as I tried to think about nothing but my set and its timing. And that’s not to mention the gut rot…
My own worst critic, I came off-stage after my set, and self-flagellated for the best part of two days. However, I felt that the only way to improve my confidence was to ‘get back on the horse’ and carry on gigging, and so I did just that.
A few weeks ago, I celebrated having done ten gigs. This is by no means a huge number – there are those on the scene who would have done a hundred by now – but it was a vague goal of mine when I realised that I was actually taking this comedy thing seriously. I was a little surprised – not to mention pleased – when it came around. And that number is climbing.
I have had bad gigs; gigs where I have pitched my material wrongly, been the wrong person and died on my proverbial. And that is a lonely feeling: a feeling akin to those ‘standing naked, in front of everybody at work’ dreams (just me?!). But those gigs have been more than countered by the good gigs; those gigs where I have come away completely buzzing, and feeling as though I have absolutely found my place in the world. There have been gigs where people have really laughed, and made an effort to give me positive feedback, and gigs where meeting my fantastic fellow comedians has been enough of a reward for showing up.
My confidence has grown enormously; not just my confidence in stand-up, but in my ability to push myself outside my comfort zone, and to be open to new experiences. I have participated in a further national comedy competition. I got my first London gig under my belt, at which I was interviewed for a student documentary. I have gigged with Simon Evans, a comedy hero of mine, who told me that he’d enjoyed my set. It’s possible I turned into ‘Embarrassing Fangirl’, at that point…
My thirst for comedy is now almost insatiable. I’m watching more comedy on TV, reading more about comedy, and seeing live comedy at every opportunity. In the summer, I went to a couple of Funny Women ‘Time of the Month’ evenings. I am a member of various online comedy fora and now take a notebook everywhere with me.
I have brought comedy back to Chichester – by way of curating a new stand-up night. I’ve signed up to attend an MC course in the New Year; a prospect which would have terrified me even a couple of months ago. I’ve got a really long way to go, and a lot to learn, but I am determined to get there.
My advice to anyone else who thinks, ‘Maybe it would be easier not to,’ is just to try it. Give yourself a nudge. Whatever you think is the worst that could happen, I have every faith that you will survive it. With a new year just around the corner, what better time could there be to give comedy a go? My 2015 would have been far, far poorer if I hadn’t gone to the comedy academy. I can’t wait to see what my next six months of comedy, and the six months after that, have in store…
