I am a stand-up comedian. Being a comedian is a source of pride for me. As someone that has never considered myself particularly creative, comedy has been the fuel to fire up the right side of my brain. When friends say, “I don’t know how you do that. I could never do that”, you can’t help but puff out your chest a little bit. When you’re on stage and everything is working, there is no better rush. You feel invincible. In a nutshell, comedy success can be a huge ego boost. That seems like all goodness, right?

Here is where it gets tricky. I don’t want to make broad generalizations about comedians, because we are a pretty diverse group. However, it’s no secret that most comedians are fucked up. Comedy for many is a coping mechanism for a potpourri of issues such as trauma, anxiety, social awkwardness, depression, etc. I’ll say it, most comedians are weirdos. And, that’s fine, because we know it. Clearly, we have a sense of humor about it. Because of this, the pride we get from excelling in comedy, coupled with newfound respect and admiration from others, can be a challenge to handle. Our lows were very low and now our highs are very high. This breeds new expectations.

You may have heard the quote “expectations are premeditated resentments”. When a comedian creates expectations of themselves based on emotion and pride, it’s easy to lose perspective. You resent that club that won’t book you, that festival that turned you down, that comedian friend who’s starting to leave you in their shadow. You start asking yourself questions like, “What am I doing? Is this even worth it? Why do I keep wasting my time with this?” I would wager that most comedians have felt this way at one time or another. I know I have multiple times, over my ten years in comedy. Even recently, I decided to take some time away and during that break, I wondered if I should ever get back on stage. I’ve fallen victim to unrealistic expectations I’ve created many times. It’s humbling but particularly humbling for such an insecure bunch as the comedian community. I’ve seen many comedians come and go over the years, and I would wager, this is why they hang it up. It can be a rollercoaster ride.

Recently, I had a couple of aspiring, young comedians express those same feelings to me. I was a little surprised because both of them have only started to scratch the surface of their comedic potential. I hated the thought of them giving up their obvious talent. I’m a father to three adult children and it was clear to me that it was time to do some dad shit.

As I started imparting my fatherly advice, I realized I was telling them what I needed to tell myself. Here are the highlights:

You have to quit asking yourself “Why am I doing comedy?” because the answers are usually tied to expectations you’ve created. It could be any number of answers…I want to make aliving doing comedy. I want to have a comedy album. I want to be a headliner. I want to have a million followers. I want to have a Netflix special. I want to be famous…and the list goes on. You’ve turned something you love doing into a grind. The question you should ask yourself is “Why do I enjoy doing comedy?” They say that if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life. If you are having fun, you’ll keep writing and performing. Do you know the best way to improve as a comedian? You keep writing and performing.

Comedy shouldn’t be a competition, at least not in the traditional sense. I grew up playing sports and I am embarrassingly competitive. I hate losing more than I love winning. When you are competing with someone, there is a winner and there is a loser. As a competitor, losing, is an unrealized expectation. I passed that competitive gene on to my daughter. She competed in much the same way as I did until she started running track in high school. She had some amazing coaches and she excelled even beyond what she probably expected. She was All-State, got a full scholarship to a D-1 school, and set records in college. When I look back on her running career, I bet she would agree, that her coaches were a big reason for her success. Sure, she did the work, but they provided guidance. Maybe the most valuable guidance they gave her was that she wasn’t racing the girl next to her. She was racing against her personal best time. Even though it could be frustrating to not break your personal best, there is still a sense of pride that you set that personal best. What an amazing concept; you never lose. It’s the same as a comedian. When you focus on how others are doing and measure yourself against their standard, it feels like a loss if you don’t measure up. Just try to be better than you were the last time you were onstage.

When you quit setting expectations, stop measuring yourself against others, focus on being the best version of yourself, and just play for the love of the game, you’ll improve as a comedian and gain a healthy perspective of where comedy belongs in your life.

You’re not alone. We’ve all struggled, but remember that there is a common bond we share as comedians. We have all stood in front of a room full of people, many of whom may be dealing with struggles outside of that room, with the sole responsibility of bringing them joy and laughter. It’s very cool to be able to do that. So even when you are discouraged, remember that your gift matters. I will always have respect for my brothers and sisters in comedy. I believe it’s our responsibility, having walked in the same shoes, to lend a sympathetic ear and proffer words of encouragement.

People still say to me, “I don’t know how you get up there and do that. I could never do that.” As it turns out, that’s the easy part. But make no mistake, stand-up comedy is no joke.

http://www.BryanMortonComedy.com