There’s lots of variations on the “Oh I could never do what you do” comment that comedians frequently hear, but the ironic truth is that most of them translate to “Oh I could definitely do what you do – I’d just need to be egotistical like you are.”

Yeah, we can tell what you’re really saying even if you can’t. Most people believe they could do what we do. They’re wrong, but not for the reasons they think.

It’s not just that moving strangers to laughter is more complex than it looks. The required personality traits aren’t what people assume. They think it’s about being zany and outgoing, but we know that it’s about being determined, committed and building emotional resilience in the hardest possible way.

One of the most pervasive ideas about stand-up is that it’s performed by extroverts because extroversion is the #1 selection criteria for comics. Sounds legit until you Google ‘introverted comedians’ and find a list that includes comedians like Jerry Seinfeld, Robin Williams, Conan O’Brien, Ellen DeGeneres, Mitch Hedberg, Steven Wright, Richard Pryor, Steve Martin, Woody Allen, John Belushi and contemptorary comics like Amy Schumer and Mark Normand.

In 2017 Mark Normand was asked about being an introvert and he said this: “Being an introvert sucks. I get off stage and I’m a wreck again. People always wonder, “Hey, if you’re an introvert, then how can you perform in front of crowds?” But stand-up is perfect for an introvert. I get to prepare what I say to you, it’s all worked out, you listen intently and if you talk, you get thrown out”

This is relevant to my interests. I used to be an extrovert. People assume I still am one, especially after they discover I tell jokes on stage. I’ve been in the workforce long enough that I’ve done the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) personality test several times over decades. It’s a test I’ve gotten cynical about. Employers love to test and classify their employees. They think they’re great managers for it even though they do absolutely nothing with the data. That’s actually a good thing when you consider that the whole exercise is little more than a magazine quiz that tells you what your star sign is.

In my twenties, I tested as an EFNP with very strong scores on that first letter (E for Extrovert). Over the years I’ve watched the score in the first letter get closer to the middle, then cross over and keep moving. Now I test as an INFP with strong stores on the “I for Introvert” scale. I used to be an extrovert and now I’m an introvert. People change.

For years I’ve had co-workers tell me my job is easy for me because “comes naturally to me” because I have “the gift of the gab.” It’s not true. People who know me really well are aware of how incredibly hard I work at fluent and confident communication. The skill is to make your job look effortless, though being a former extrovert does inform my efforts.

When I was younger I considered extroversion a driving force behind both wanting to perform and being able to. It’s only since I became a comic that it’s really occurred to me how different one can be onstage and offstage. I aim for authenticity but to perform onstage I have to replicate what I do at work and present a lot more comfort and confidence than I actually feel.

That’s taken time. I feel like I’m only just starting to get anywhere with it. I remember an early set at The Commonwealth where another comic told me that for the first time I looked like I was comfortable and having fun up there. This was after five months of nerves, ‘terrible microphone technique’ and feeling incredibly self conscious.

When you’re on stage you’re very conscious that you’re facing the opposite direction from everyone else there. I’d need to be a lot more confident to not feel judged, and that’s not just about the jokes or the performance.

Being differerent offstage isn’t dishonest, it’s necessary. It is a performance, after all.

There’s a comic adage that comedians should never ever be funnier offstage than they are onstage, and it’s been proven to me time and again. I’ve seen a few newbie comics attempt to be hilarious offstage, like they’re obligated to turn every single line in everyday conversations into a double entendre and respond to everything you say with a zinger. It’s tiresome, try-hard and annoying.

They seem really invested in convincing everyone that they’re a ‘class clown’ or ‘wild and crazy guy’ and therefore a real comic. Little do they know that you earn ‘real comic’ status by doing it. Up there on stage where it matters and the the risk is real. That is how to demonstrate you’re a comedian – making conversations feel awkward and fake is not a shortcut past the apprenticeship.

Most comics I know are pretty normal offstage. Well, that’s not the whole truth; we all seem to be a little damaged or dysfunctional, all seem to look at mundane things a but differently from most people. But I haven’t met too many comedians who are “always on”, or “extra” or “larger than life” in everyday interactions.

People report that meeting famous comedians isn’t what they expect, that they encountered a real human and not a a wacky onstage persona. Most of us are just people trying to make it through this life, trying to make sense of an absurd universe, in love with the artform (yes, it is a fucking artform), seeking the unifying power of people laughing together, and valuing authentic honest conversation over attention-seeking bullshit.

I can’t find the quote right now, but I remember Jamie Kilstein saying that he wasn’t a class clown and he doesn’t believe many comedians were, that most comics were the nerds at the back of the classroom writing down their innermost thoughts. I don’t know how universal that claim is; I was a bit of a class clown and the other comics I’ve asked about it generally say they were too.

What I do know is that it’s not a job requirement. My theory is that there’s two types of comedian – the ones who want you to look at them and the ones who want you to listen to them. Being an extrovert is probably linked to the first type. When I was young I was an extrovert who wanted people to look at me, but now I’m an introvert and I’m deeply uncomfortable when you look at me. I’m onstage because I want to you listen to me and what I have to say.

I like the cartoon below. Comedians are both creators and performers. Extroversion helps the performance aspect, but it might be the introverts who are drawn to the creative side of it. As an older introvert who sometimes struggles to summon ‘high energy’ for performance and is only gradully getting better at the ‘stagecraft’ side of what we do, I’m mostly in comedy because it’s a creative pursuit, and it’s a bonus that being a comedian forces me to develop both aspects of my personality. The beautiful thing about comedy is that it has room for all kinds of people, which is also the beautiful thing about life.