I did my first Open Mic just over four years ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday, but then I remember how far I’ve come. If I have any doubts about how far I’ve come, I only have to look at my material from 2019.

I didn’t tell anyone before I went up. I didn’t know how it would go (spoiler alert: It went well) but I sure wasn’t going to find out in front of friends or family. I told them later, and most of them asked the same thing – “How much did you get paid?”

The answer, of course, was nothing. Most of them felt like I needed to explain and justify this, which is annoying… I mean, how much does your hobby pay? I’m betting it pays nothing and that you actually had to spend money on fishing rods or golf clubs or guitars to do it. You’re being awfully condescending for someone who hasn’t been offered a million dollar football contract.

Truthfully, if you’re looking to make money, I’m not going to recommend Comedy. Go to Google (or Chat GPT. It is 2023, after all) and ask for profitable careers and side hustles – I promise you will not see stand up comedy on the list. If fact. let’s try right now:
Here’s what ChatGPT said:

• Freelance Writing
• Graphic Design
• Online Tutoring
• E-commerce
• Consulting
• Photography
• Social Media Management
• Real Estate Investing
• App Development
• Dropshipping

See? No comedy. Of course, fishing, golf, nightclubbing, jogging, wine tasting and going to the beach aren’t on the list either.

There’s comedians in the world who are living proof that it’s possible to make serious money in the industry- Kevin Hart, Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chapelle, Joe Rogan, Ellen Degeneres, etc. But they’re extremely rare, just like Taylor Swift and Kanye West.

The sad truth about “the arts” is that it’s a pyramid scheme, much like MLM, using a couple of megasuccessful people at the top as a shining example to inspire the millions of aspirational poor people at the bottom who actually support the whole thing. (Is Capitalism a pyramid scheme? Discuss.)

Another point that’s often lost on people is that Kevin Hart and Dave Chappelle weren’t selling out stadiums and getting paid millions at the beginning either. They both “ate shit” and did it for free (or close to free) for years before getting any kind of break. They were never guaranteed anything.

It’s nice that it’s possible to be a big success, but that’s not why we do it. If you’re doing it for the riches, I’ll politely suggest there’s many easier ways to make a lot of money. Some of them might even be legal and ethical.

So…. to paraphrase the name of a Bill Burr special, Why Do We Do This?

Well the simple answer is that we love it. In fact, most of us are driven to it and couldn’t not do it even if we tried. It’s a creative outlet. It’s an effective form of expression. We do it because we have something to say. We do it because the only thing better than experiencing a room filled with communal laughter is knowing that we made it happen, and can make it happen again.

We also do it for the attention, approval and yes, money is a factor. Money shows up. If you do comedy for a period of time, and you’re good at, people will start offering you paid opportunities. I don’t know exactly how or when it happens, and it’s not a function of merit. Luck is one of many elements in arts and entertainment. We’re not necessarily rewarded directly for our efforts, but you have to put the effort in to be eligible for the luck.

Sometimes I get paid. Usually not a lot. And I – having only just started doing stand-up in my fifties – don’t and can’t have any aspirations about quitting my day job or making it big before I’m 30.

As it happens, I actually love my day job. I also love my life and have no desire to spend it on tour and constantly apart from my pets and partner, which seems to be the defining requirement for all the full-time pro comics I know. I’m not gonna get rich and I’m probably not “going anywhere” with this comedy thing that I do.

And yet, for so many reasons, making the decision to become a comedian is the best thing I ever did. What I wanted to do today was talk about some of the ways in which being a comic has enriched my life. It’s just that I had to first spend a couple of minutes explaining that money isn’t one of them 🙂

At the top of my list is something I already touched on: The need for creative expression, and to communicate my thoughts. I’ve done other art platforms, and spent decades writing and making music. I hoped I’d be able to communicate my ideas with these, especially with music, but neither were a great channel to do so.

As it turns out, I can share ideas – especially the challenging ones – as a comedian and find those ideas understood and appreciated by others, people I haven’t even met. Trying to communicate some of these ideas in music or painting was frustrating.

Second, doing comedy makes you a great communicator. Comedians are obsessed with becoming effective communicators. We are always looking for the most efficient and powerful way to say things. We structure our sentences for maximum impact. We employ word economy, narrative visualisation, invoking language tricks like onomatopoeia and plosives. Often we’re trying to get you to look at things differently to how you usually do, and I promise we’re better at it than most people who’d try.

We also get trained to think on our feet, in real-time. We write at home, but we also frequently react and improvise on-stage. We regularly face our fears and get up there, and deal with unexpected challenges and other elements we could never have prepared for.

All these skills give us an edge in the other parts of our lives. I’m more of a fearless and creative problem-solver (and effective communicator) in my day job, but it also makes me heaps better at interviewing for jobs. I’ve found these kinds of activities are naturally easier, things I’m skilled at, since I became a comic, and my life has improved accordingly.

The same applied, when it was relevant, to dating. Hopefully I won’t have to explain why good communication skills and actually having something interesting to talk about are helpful with dating. It also occurs to me that the skills acquired from doing comedy have also helped me conduct my relationship better. These skills are powerful in every aspect of our lives.

There’s also a therapeutic aspect to comedy. I’ve spent most of my life wrestling with various forms of depression that several professionals have described as severe, and I’ve tried most of the medications and treatments designed to address it. None of these have been effective and many of them have been disastrous. Writing and performing comedy have been incredibly helpful in this regard. If you think about it, most comedy is an extension of the comic’s discontent.

I wish I could remember which comic said that all of comedy is the resolution of absurd and offending parts of life. It might even have been me, but I doubt it. Writing jokes is a great way of taking what irritates or upsets you and working through it. We’ll take something egregious and work on it, flipping it back-to-front, examining it in a new way, enacting some revenge or closure on it, expressing what annoys you about it, finding your sentiments resonated and appreciated by others. All of these things are therapeutic.

All of these things help you resolve what bothers you. Doing comedy helps you see things in a different way, and it lets others see things your way. The foundations of joke writing are also tools to help you reconcile your relationship with the world you live in.

Also, let’s mention friends. I’ve made some great friends in and through comedy. I’m not going to lie; I’ve also met some right dickheads too, and some people in the scene who’ve treated me a bit poorly. But by and large, I’ve made some amazing friendships as a comedian.

Comics, even ones who appear to have nothing in common, share some essential characteristics. We all have the ability and the tendency to look at the world in a different way from what the establishment prescribes for us.

We’re driven by the same discontent and have the same need to be understood. We all know how excrutiating it feels to bomb, and we’re all willing to repeatedly expose ourselves to the risk of feeling that again. We all hold strong beliefs about the power and relevance of speech in society.

We all take responsibility for our feelings and share the view that others should do the same. We all value resilience, individuality, craft and commitment. We all know what it’s like to be the only person in the room facing the oppsosite direction of everyone else.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate because in the time I’ve been a comedian. I’ve met some of my comedy heroes and and proud to call them friends too. They say not to meet your heroes and if we’re talking about musicians or actors there’s definitely a good case for that argument. Mentoring and learning from the people who’s work inspires you is pretty exhilerating, though.

One way I know comedy’s been good for me is that I like where I live now. At the time I started comedy, and for lots of years leading to it, I was done with Townsville and planning to move from here at the first opportunity. For reasons I won’t bore you with, I was done with this place and felt it had nothing to offer me. Before, I was stuck here. Now I have a life here.

I didn’t have a career and a fulfilling relationship like I presently do, but I know it all turned around when I discovered Townsville’s comedy scene. Suddenly Townsville was offering me a social network, a platform for expression, a strong identity of my own here and place in the community. Suddenly I had opportunities and the tools & skills to define my self with.

The bottom line here is that, while I might never be rich or famous from doing comedy, my life has gotten heaps better since I started. Becoming a comedian has improved my life in every meaningful way I can think of. It’s been great for my relationship/s (which is the planned topic of my next post). It’s helped me with my career. It’s given me a creative voice. It’s provided the tools to manage my mental health. It’s taught me to develop lots of personal skills and attributes. It’s provided a social group and let me meet countless friends here and all over the planet. It’s provided so many experiences and memories I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

Your platform might not be stand up comedy. It took me half a century to find out that it’s the right platform for me. I’ve created in other channels and I know the frustration of realising that the medium you’ve chosen might not match your aptitudes or offer the outcomes you’re seeking.

The important thing is to find your channel, your platform, your voice. I also believe it’s important not to let remuneration be too big a factor in choosing your platform. When you do comedy, as with the other arts, nobody promises you an outcome. You might become rich and famous, and you might not. Anyone proposing a determined outcome for input is actually offering you a job. There’s lots of ways to find remuneration, and you can potentially turn any passion into an income if that’s your pitch.

For me, stand up is about loving the artform and wanting to be one of the artists in it. It’s about self-development and self-expression and incorporating all of the tools of the trade into my relationsghip with the world around me. I’m glad that stand-up can provide a career as well as a voice for people, but it’s the actual love of the game that gets us playing.