When I tell someone that I’m a comedian, the first thing they usually say is, “Oh wow! Say something funny!”

Good god how I hate that.

I’m adding a bunch of new dates this week (I hope). I got really motivated yesterday and started working on getting a bunch of addtional mic time. I’m adding the dates as I receive them to both my Google Calendar and my Facebook page, so you can subscribe to them in either place.

Also, you can sign up for my mailing list if you haven’t, already- I hate spam with a fiery, white-hot passion, so you know I will never abuse your inbox, or share your address with anybody.

I use Google Analytics on this site.  This is partly because I am a total web nerd and love the information pr0n I get out of it, and partly because I am, like many comedians, in constant need of the ego-stroking of knowing how many people want to hear what I have to say.

One of the unexpected things GA can do is tell me what kind of connections to the Internet my visitors are using.  So now I have to ask… who the hell are the two of you who are still on dialup?  And can we take up a collection to get you a real damn connection?

I’m doing my first-ever comedy competition this month! On October 25th, at 7:30 PM, I’ll be appearing in the Kz’s House of Talent Comedy Contest at Floyd’s Bar & Grill in Alexandria. Contests like this are heavily weighted toward audience reaction, so I need to roust a lot of people out to come cheer me on. Hope to see you there.

There are two really important lessons I’ve learned about writing stand-up comedy that I still have to remind myself of regularly.

1. No one fact-checks comedians. The best source of material a comedian has is his or her own life, but life rarely aligns itself for maximum comedic effect. So while I’m not nearly creative enough to just make up the funny stories I tell on stage out of thin air, I DO regularly have to change or exaggerate the details to make them work better as jokes. For example, I’ve recently written a bit about the difference between my family’s holiday traditions and those of my husband’s family. When I tell the joke, it doesn’t matter that the turkey is already butchered and processed by the time we arrive at the turkey farm to pick it up- it’s much funnier to tell the story as if we had to choose our turkey from the ones running around the yard. I still occasionally find myself tangled up in the truth behind the material, and have to remind myself that every detail doesn’t have to be strictly true.

2. Avoid “wasted motion.” One of the unique features of writing standup comedy as opposed to other forms of writing is the heightened need for verbal economy. Oh yes, verbosity is to be discouraged in all forms of writing, but when it’s just you, by yourself, in front of 300 people expecting to be entertained by you, the pressure is on to get from the setup to the punchline as quickly as possible. For me, wasted motion is often tied up with the literal truth of the story that I have to free myself from. When I tell my story about driving through Kansas hungover, I keep wanting to add in a line about holding the steering wheel in place as you nap in the driver’s seat, because I feel like I have to explain EXACTLY how one would do that. I don’t, of course. It’s enough to suggest that you turn on cruise control- I don’t have to throw in the line about putting a bungee cord on the steering wheel.

When I’m writing new material, I often scrawl it out in a little notebook I carry with me, and I’ll usually write out every sentence as it occurs to me. I find that if I get tired of writing it, I should consider whether or not an audience will tire of listening to it.

One of the most universal features of life as a standup comedian is The Light.  When you approach the end of your allotted time, a club employee (or open mic organizer, depending) turns on a small light within your field of vision to signal you that you should start wrapping up. 

If you’re good at what you do, you’ll be able to wrap up the bit you’re doing, transition into your closing bit, and get off the stage within a minute or two. It’s polite to nod slightly or make eye contact with the person holding the light so that they know you see it.  If you do that, the manager or organizer is generally content to let you wind up your set appropriately, even if it means you go a teensy bit over.  They’re in the business of putting on an enjoyable comedy show, not turning off your mic at exactly 5 minutes, after all.

If you’re not good at what you do, or if you’re an asshole, you’ll keep going, long after your allotted time.  This is incredibly inconsiderate.  It’s inconsiderate to the comedians taking the stage after you, because they may get their time cut short because you took too long.  It’s inconsiderate to the organizer/manager, who potentially has the continued existence of that open mic riding on the behavior of the comedians, or their financial success riding on the quality of the shows being offered.  It’s also inconsiderate to the audience- maybe you got the light because you weren’t doing very well, and by going over you’re essentially making them listen to more unsuccessful comedy.

But on the other side of this comedic social contract is the person who selected The Light to be used.  I have been to countless open mics where this very basic, very necessary detail was essentially neglected.  More often than not, the organizer sits in the back of the room and waves the backlit screen of their cell phone at me to signal that I’m approaching the end of my time.  I performed at one open mic where The Light was somebody’s little keychain LED light, in the middle of a fully-lit restaurant.

Why is it so hard to get this right?  Flashlights aren’t expensive- you can get mini Mag-lites at Target for a couple of bucks, for God’s sake.  I know one guy who runs a few open mics in the area who has a traffic light that he sets up in the back of the room.  The light is green throughout your set, until you get the yellow light at one minute two minutes, and then the light turns red when you have reached the end of your allotted time.

That level of light isn’t necessary, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask to bring something along that I actually have a prayer of being able to see from the stage.

Rarr.

When you’re trying to build up enough solid material to pursue real work as a comedian, you spend a lot of time at open mic nights.  The greatest strength of an open mic is also it’s greatest weakness- it’s open.  Which means there’s no particular requirement you have to meet in order to get stage time.  For the struggling comic just trying to get some practice, this is great!  But it also means there’s no quality control, and you end up sitting through some really awful  acts before it’s your turn.

That brings me to my particular favorite variety of really awful act- The Penis Guy.  This is the guy who, when his half-written, poorly-prepared material doesn’t go over well, goes straight for the masturbation joke.  Or worse, the guy who doesn’t bother with any material OTHER than jokes about his penis.

Now look. I like a good penis joke as much as any other red-blooded American.  But most penis jokes are too easy- they’re the, uh, low-hanging fruit of comedy.  A comedian really must earn his penis joke.

There are variations on The Penis Guy, of course.  The Really Peverted Old Guy, for example.  This is a guy who’s usually about 60 or so, who thinks it’s really hilarious to talk about his sexual habits in great detail, whether solo or with a partner.  Guys, I’m not the only one who thinks that graphic demonstrations of masturbatory technique and depictions of how long your tongue is aren’t funny.

There’s a lot more to say on the topic of open mics- what makes a good one, how to prepare, that kind of thing.  But I had to get this Penis Guy rant out of my system.

I had a comedy anxiety dream the other night.  I dreamed I was at an open mic in a big auditorium, inexplicably with windows at the back.  Some of my friends from college, people I haven’t heard from in years, were there.  I took the stage, and bombed.  Not because the crowd was bad, because instead of using my carefully prepared set, I just started rambling and trying to be funny.  Some of what I said got a few laughs (after all, I wouldn’t have decided to be a comedian if I couldn’t  be funny off-the-cuff), but mostly, it sucked.

Then I woke up.  And that very evening, I did 5 minutes at an open mic, performed mostly new stuff, and rocked it.  Every joke got a reasonable laugh.  Even the stuff I came up with on the spur of the moment.

Which reminds me, I need to tell you all about open mics.  I’ve actually got quite a lot to tell you all.