When I finally decided to do my first gig I didn’t tell anyone. I had scoped out a comedy club that organises an open mic where anyone can put their name down and you get randomly picked. This means you can end up last, 3 hours in with only the MC and tech as audience, but at least anyone can try it.
I went alone and sat down next to a woman with a notepad. To this day, when I gig at a new place or don’t know any of the other comedians, I find the female comics (sometimes in the singular) and introduce myself to them.
I got called pretty early on in the night and my set went… alright? I was so focussed on the bits I had prepared that I didn’t listen to the audience. I was nervous, but not as much as I thought I’d be. I was mainly giddy and proud I had done it.
Cause what was the worst that could happen? I had intentionally imagined worst-case scenarios: I’d lose full control of my bodily fluids? I’d start to sing uncontrollably? Highly unlikely. Maybe people wouldn’t laugh and that’s not as awful as everyone makes it sound. It just happens, you learn from it, improve and move on. I still remind myself of this when I’m terrified before going on.
I had also actually prepped, not just writing down ideas but I had written out full sentences and practiced delivery. My notebook had been filled with pages of stories and jokes and turns out a can of G&T is the ideal make-do mic.
Some comedians go on stage announcing that it’s their first gig and it’s understandable because the audience is encouraging on those nights — to a degree, depends on your material. I’ve also seen comics bringing their friend to support them for their first gig. I chose not to, which meant I walked quietly into this space and could as easily leave if it wasn’t for me, the stakes were low.
Whilst writing this, I forced myself to re-watch the video of my third gig, the first I ever filmed and the first at which friends came along (I tentatively told some after a while). It’s not as bad as I thought, of course the set-ups are way too long, there is a clear lack of punchlines, the ending is anti-climactic and I am standing outside of the spotlight. All of it screams newbie. I was way more nervous at this gig with my friends, than at my first gig because I am susceptible to praise — surprise! I saw some of my friends looking with fear in their eyes as I went on stage, prepping themselves to suggest knitting as an alternative hobby. But there was no need for that, after the gig they all told me I was confident. There’s a hefty level of delusion that comes with the idea that you can make strangers laugh, and you create a persona of sorts when going on stage. That is where my confidence came from, no one knew me, so I could be anyone and even have done this before.
When starting out, I had to overcome two personal hurdles; first the dread that I would take up people’s time. My upbringing, like many girls’, was to not take up too much space and not be too loud. Then I told myself, if I didn’t take up the space, plenty of mediocre men would. This mantra has also made me apply for jobs I initially thought myself unqualified for, it’s highly effective.
The second doubt I had to overcome was that I felt out of place. At my first gig I had seen the fifth comedian mentioning they were a student born in a different century, I felt self-conscious about being in my thirties. Spoiler, it doesn’t matter, it’s never too late to start. There’s another comic, , who wrote a fabulous post about this on this Substack.
I had nothing to say in my twenties and didn’t think of doing comedy back then. I am in awe of comics who are funny at 22 but it’s also fine if you’re ten years older or plenty more. I also chose not to address it, you don’t have to. Same with anything that makes you “other” — nationality, sexuality.… Make it your thing and write jokes about it if you want, or ignore it altogether. You are in charge, you can make all these choices, that is one of the strengths of stand-up and why I so longed to do it. My sets are quite often highly personal but what I do talk about is my choice.
The first gig, like many first that will follow are slightly nerve-wrecking but mainly so much joy! The first gig, the first time you get booked after someone saw you on stage, the first paid gig, the first, the first brainstorm session with your new comedy buddies… So if you’re thinking of starting out. Just do it, what’s the worst that can happen? Nothing as bad as regretting not doing it.
If you need the external pressure and feel like you could easily cop out, bring you’re cheerleading friends. Not the one who will give blunt “feedback”. They can be the best of friends when you need a telling-to about your dating choices, but not for a thing as vulnerable as doing comedy. If like me, you prefer to keep it on the down-low initially, go alone and trust your gut.
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About the author
Celine Slater is a stand-up comedian mainly preforming in Scotland, she tells jokes to escape her day-time job filled with spreadsheets.
Follow her on Instagram.
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