Summer is Made For Comedy

If there's one time of year we lose our comedy brothers and sisters, it's the summer time. Like a comedian Memorial Day, I can't tell you how many people give up comedy in the summer and never return. After a Fall and Winter of discontent, these fallen soldiers trade in stage time for vacation time. Whether I am running shows, running classes, or just participating in road gigs, I found it's harder to fill a comedy roster in the summer, and the comics who never tapped into paid gigs just slowly fade away, only to be seen on Facebook once in a blue moon liking your posts about future shows. "It's summer time and the living's easy" is a great philosophy for people grinding away 9-5 at an office job, but if you're committed to comedy, there are no seasons. In fact, now is the time to work on your summer body...of work...so when everyone shows up this Fall, you'll be prepared and they'll be buried in winter snow by your new sets. 

Time Off is Not In Your Vocabulary
Yes, yes, you get to visit family or spend a week camping, but if you really think you can take off three months and show up in mid-September and think you'll slay on stage, you're fooling yourself. So much of your material will be outdated (every pop culture reference is out) and you will have changed as a person, therefore disconnecting yourself emotionally from many of your jokes.     

Again, taking a family vacation is fine, but taking off the entire warm weather time to relax on weekends and attend parties and concerts at night isn't for you if you want this. You know who doesn't take summers off? Bands and musicians...because they're too busy working at those parties and beach bashes you want to chill at. 

I've seen it too many times over the years. People a couple years in think they've "earned" the right to take a long break. But had they been scheduling themselves correctly throughout the year, the self-care and work would have intertwined into a somewhat reasonable situation. So if your life is changing this summer, then make sure you schedule your stage and writing time around the other activities. I'm right now reworking my schedule to finish two screenplays, perform weekly, and get gym time in. We are all balancing together. 

It's not easy, but in the words of Michael Caine from The Weather Man, "Do you know that the harder thing to do and the right thing to do are usually the same thing? Nothing that has meaning is easy. 'Easy' doesn't enter into grown-up life."

Pick one or two nights to get up (open mics or booked gigs) and give yourself some writing time early in the morning or when you get your free time. This doesn't have to be formal. It can be:

• Journaling
• Jotting Down Random Set Ups
• Listing Complaints
• Voice Recording Frustrations 
• Talking Bits Out With Comics 

Everyone's process is different. If you couldn't write anything to workout on stage, start with one sentence (a complaint) and just beat it to death from every angle at an open mic or show that let's you do that. Two birds. One stone. Zero f**ks given. 

Your Family Can Wait Thirty Minutes
The biggest obstacle I hear is "my family wants me to..." and "We only see each other once a year..." or "My spouse really needs the help..." Great. And you can meet them after your thirty minutes of jotting down funny thoughts or at 8pm instead of 7pm because you did a slotted mic. Trust me, anyone who demands your time on their schedule is always the first to reschedule your meet up. In fact, most people who don't want to work around your schedule in a reasonably accommodating way are just demonstrating they don't respect your goals or dreams, and trust me, you will eventually find yourself cutting them off down the road. If you keep compromising for them, eventually you have no friends, you resent your family, and no comedy career.
 
Clearly, you need to attend the graduations, the birthday parties, the weekly family trip to Yosemite, and the occasional guys/girls night. But if everything is being built around everyone's schedule, you're going to feel it in your bones. I have friends who won't work their schedule around their gym time, afraid they'll lose muscle mass. Is that the healthiest mentality? Probably not, but you got to respect the dedication. At some point you get to put yourself first, because no one else will. 

Comedy Isn't a Job, But Treat It That Way
I don't like telling people comedy is a job. Because it isn't. It's a career. It's a lifestyle. It's a way of life. A job is 8 hours (or more) a day, with required breaks and supervisors. But if you treat comedy like a job, people will understand. Maybe not a first, but over time they will. 

If you told your family and friends, "I can't go to dinner because I work," they'd say that's fine and they'd reschedule another time or day. If you make comedy a priority like that, they will learn to respect it. 

"Sorry, I have to get in my stage time Tuesday night. And I can't any other day this week" is a perfectly fine answer. Ah, but Paul, if I don't do comedy, it's not like I will get fired like a "real" job. Yes you will. When you don't get up and then the paid gig or the showcase comes up and you're not ready, and suddenly the booker won't rebook you. Just like anything else, failing to prepare is preparing to fail.    

Final Thoughts 
Being a comedian isn't easy. It's a lot of sacrifice, and you see so many other people living a life that doesn't involve the struggles comedy creates. But that "normal" life isn't for you. Remember, in a sold out comedy show, there's 200 people watching and only 2-3 people performing. That's the ratio of people creating to those consuming. Want to be different? Then do something different. Successful comics don't spend their summers getting a tan. Their neighbors who attend shows do that. 

I once heard this great story about the Glenn Miller Orchestra. It was winter and they had a gig in the Mid-west. The snow was so brutal they couldn't land the plane at the airport. Instead, they had to land in a giant cornfield about a mile away from the venue. So the band put on their costumes, grabbed their instruments and dragged themselves and the equipment through all that cold to the musical hall. As they walked, knees deep in snow, freezing their asses off, they passed a small house. Inside the lights were on and the fireplace was crackling. The kids were playing games, and the parents were dancing. One member of the band looked at another and said, "How can people live like that?" And then trekked on another mile to the gig. 

You have to see the world from that point of view sometimes. Comedy is about long car rides at midnight, smelly bar gigs, time away from work, missing Coachella, telling your pastor you'll be back in a few weeks, leaving parties early, and turning your frustrations into sketches, bits, and tweets. If you want to be like everyone else, then you can, but instead of sacrificing your time, you'll sacrifice your soul. 

​I recently took a Saturday night off to see a movie. I was sitting at a Lazy Dog bar sipping on Diet Coke and eating Thai pad noodles watching the "normal" people saying hacky crap to each other, sharing ignorant hot takes, and saying "that's what she said," waaayyy more than anyone should. I texted a few comic buddies sharing my observations. All of them have comedy specials on big platforms. Their response: "I'm scared of being normal." Amen.