How To Deal With Nerves Before A Show I'm an incredibly anx..
Published: December 14th 2022, 8:45:27 pm
How To Deal With Nerves Before A Show
I'm an incredibly anxious person. The fact that I ever got up on a stage in the first place must be down to just... the fact that I was in my early twenties and perhaps my brain hadn't fully developed yet. Or maybe I was just more scared of saying 'no' when a comedian told me to try stand-up. Because the indication was, that if I said no, he would tell me that I couldn't keep hanging out in the comedy club after hours, chatting to and flirting with all of the comedians. The subtext was quite clear: You're quite annoying, Sofie, but you can earn your place here by doing comedy yourself.
Brené Brown said: “If you are not in the arena getting your ass kicked on occasion, I am not interested in or open to your feedback. There are a million cheap seats in the world today filled with people who will never be brave with their own lives, but will spend every ounce of energy they have hurling advice and judgement at those of us trying to dare greatly. Their only contributions are criticism, cynicism, and fear-mongering. If you're criticising from a place where you're not also putting yourself on the line, I'm not interested in your feedback.”
And doing comedy is very much fighting in an arena. And before I set foot on a stage for the first time, I was just trying to hang out with all of the cool gladiators being like 'oh aren't we great', while they all had lost limbs and I was sipping on a discounted beer I had gotten because I was 'friend of comedians'.
So when I was given the ultimatum - get on stage yourself or stop bothering us - I had to say yes.
The entire evening felt like an out-of-body experience. I genuinely don't remember anything other than what people have told me afterwards. I remember entering the dressing room and tripping over a cable on the floor, banging my knees onto the hard cement floor and grabbing the comedian in front of me, purely by reflex. The comedians all turned around and looked at me on the floor, shrugged, and turned back around.
I had rehearsed my five minutes a hundred times. Because of nerves. Yet, when I finally got in front of the microphone, I blurted out, 'I fell!'
The audience chuckled uncomfortably as they were trying to be supportive of what they assumed was my opening 'joke'.
I pulled up my trousers and showed them my wounded knee and leg and said, 'No, really, I fell!'
They smiled, nervously. Wow, the lengths she'll go to, to do this opening joke, they must have thought.
This all took place in 2010 and I can still get as nervous before I go on stage. It doesn't happen often. And my skillset is (obviously) much better now, so I am better at hiding the nerves and making jokes that will make the audience laugh, which then calms me down.
It's easier having a good show, when people have heard of you. It's not really something we're meant to talk about. I'd love to tell you that it's even HARDER having to do 50+ two-hour tour shows in 400+ seaters than it was doing 5 minute sets in a basement in London to 10 other comedians and one bartender.
But it's not. People who come to see you on tour will either 1) know who you are and love you 2) know who you are and like you 3) have heard good things about you 4) have had you recommended or 5) will want you to be good because they've spent money and gotten a babysitter. Besides, they're in a fancy theatre with fancy lights and sound, surrounded by 200-500 other people. The general atmosphere of the room is 'this will be a funny and good night'. You have to really fuck up to ruin that, as a comedian. It's difficult having a bad show, when you're in that position.
Now, when you gig in a shitty basement and people have never heard of you... That's terrifying.
I did a comedy club show in Scotland last spring and it was very much Not My Audience. I can tell by the applause when they announce my name to the stage. People will make it clear if they know who you are. These people did not. I made the mistake of starting the show the way I usually would. And it was completely silent. I realised how easy I had had it. When gigging to my own audience, I don't have to first convince them I'm funny. I do, when I'm gigging to stag and hen dos in Scotland who've never heard of me. The second time I did it, I opened with a very strong joke and they were on board. What a rookie-mistake.
Oh, and I was super nervous. I still get super nervous. Just not when it's in front of a lot of people who know who I am.
When I was starting out, I developed some ways to make myself less nervous. And I still use these today. They're few and simple but my GOD, they work.
1. 'You don't have to do this' is what a much older and more professional comedian once told me when I was telling him how much I was hoping the show would be cancelled. I was so nervous I wanted to throw up. And he told me to leave. Like, oh, if it makes you this uncomfortable, just go?
I was just doing an unpaid 10 minute set in a comedy club on a Saturday. Voluntarily. I could just leave. He reminded me that I chose to do this. That it's all voluntary. It's not homework or PE day in school. It's not a chore. I get to do stand-up. I get to tell jokes. I choose to do it. And what an absolute luxury it is. What a privilege. That helped a lot and I think of it every time I'm about to go on stage.
2. I used to do all the new act competitions and I would be so nervous. Not in the initial rounds or even the semi-finals, but if I made it to the finals, I'd be terrified. I would watch the show before it was my turn, seeing all the other amazing comedians compete. Then, one night, I decided to just pretend I wasn't part of it. I pretended I was just an audience member watching a show.
And instantly, I was overcome with this tingling feeling in my entire body. Jealousy. I desperately wanted to be on stage too. I wished I was part of the show. Thankfully, then my brain could present the good news to me: I WAS part of the show.
It's really just a different version of 'you've chosen this and you want to do it'.
3. Will this matter in five years? In five years, will I think back to that one gig I did?
A friend (and I'm being vague because I can't for the life of me remember who) told me that they would imagine walking on the street, outside the venue. They'd look at the venue and be aware that they had no idea that inside of the venue, some comedian would be scared of telling jokes. There's a world outside this venue and most people in the world couldn't give a fuck. We're small and insignificant and who cares.
4. GOOD! Yay you for being nervous! It means you care! If you care, you're probably good. Which means you shouldn't be nervous because you're good.
5. Breathe. When we're nervous, we hold our breaths. Remember to breathe. It calms down your body. When you get to the microphone, take a deep breath before you speak. It will feel like 45 minutes to you, but it's a split second to the audience. You'll just seem confident. (Another thing that's easier when you're more of a public figure -- people tend to clap for ages, even when you're at the microphone. When they don't know you, they'll happily stop applauding when you're still 30 seconds away from the microphone and it's the worst thing in the world, walking onto the stage to silence.)
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.
Full disclosure, these posts are part of my paid sponsorship with OnlyFans, meaning I'm legally obligated to make a certain amount of posts. But - I'm definitely not obligated to write these very, very long essays about comedy. I do this because I genuinely love talking about stand-up. And I love OnlyFans, I really do. I'm not even being paid to say that. I'd say that for free.
So thank you for reading, even though I'm pretty sure 90% of you are creepy men hoping I'll pop out a tit or something.
Sofie