I had a dream of becoming a professional comedian. It was the combination of making an audience react so favourably to my genius juxtaposition of ideas and that I could earn a living with no gimmicks other than a spare t-shirt. Over many years that dream was crushed. Until I realised that I’m not funny enough.
I love comedy. Particularly the dry, dark and surreal kinds. With a dash of intelligent slapstick. Heroes include Emo Philips, Steven Wright, Andy Kaufman, Peter Cook, Monty Python, League of Gentlemen, Alan Partridge and Rowan Atkinson. I love the journey a skilful writer of comedy takes you on and the big surprise twist at the end. Good comedy for me isn’t predictable but in hindsight it is inevitable. Much like a good magic trick. I amassed a large library of comedy DVDs and read many books (theory and biographical). However, a passion for and knowledge of comedy is not enough.
Comedy requires an audience to find it funny. What I find funny doesn’t always reflect your tastes. You see there’s only going to be some overlap between our senses of humour. That immediately cuts down the laughs between us. (The successes of Michael McIntyre and Peter Kay partly lie in the shared everyday experiences.)
It gets worse. Just because I love a certain type of comedy doesn’t mean I’m any good at presenting it. My big problem is I can’t act. I can’t do characters. I can’t do accents. My timing and delivery are generally poor. So much of the comedy I love watching is beyond my capabilities as a performer. It just falls flat with an audience. For so long I tried to be someone I wasn’t. The repeated failure can be soul destroying when it’s something you love and dream of doing.
There’s a lot to be said for the advice: just be yourself. The key for me in finding a way to make my audience laugh is to work in the overlap between:
- What I find funny
- What my audience finds funny
- What I’m capable of performing
See this follow up post on 5 ways to be funny when you’re not.