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It's not too intimidating for an aspiring performer to wait his turn for the stage at The Comic Strip Live, the renowned comedy club in New York City.The walls are plastered with photos of previous acts, guys named Carlin, Rock, Sandler, Chappelle. Jerry Seinfeld's scorecard when he auditioned for a spot is up there too. He passed.
As I imagined my picture up on the wall, a thought crossed my mind: Am I nuts!?! What am I doing trying to follow these guys? My eyes darted toward the front door. There was still time for me to run screaming from the club. Then I heard it, my intro from the emcee, a stranger to my act: "Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and welcome a very funny man, Andy Simmons!"
I gulped for air like a wide-mouth bass on a hook. Then I headed toward the stage. It was showtime!
When I first walked into the Comic Strip eight weeks earlier, I was a carefree man, there to take a few comedy classes. Sounds like fun, right? Over the years, I've been considered a pretty funny guy. So with a little persuading, I decided to try telling jokes to an actual audience, rather than a captive group of friends and family. I quickly realized that saying "funny" things to people who already like you is far different from saying them to strangers -- especially ones who have just paid a cover charge. Could I make them laugh without having to resort to falling down a flight of stairs? More to the point -- did I have the guts?
My classmates were an eclectic group. There was Glen, a social worker and Orthodox Jew; Andrew, a former Marine who saw action in Somalia during the Black Hawk Down days; Christopher, a gay Mormon who honed his humor chops playing the role of peacemaker in his family; and Mike, who is deaf, and has cerebral palsy and a speech impediment.
Our teacher was D. F. Sweedler, a veteran comic who has appeared on Letterman. He told us that over the next two months we would create a five-minute act, which would culminate in a performance onstage before an audience.
"Where do we find our ideas?" someone asked.
Everyday life is fodder, he told us. Family, relationships, fears. "Anything you would tell a psychiatrist. Anger is always a good source. Even if it's petty, make mountains out of molehills."
This worked for me. What I lacked in talent, I more than made up for in anger. My problem might be quantity over quality.
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