Today I decided I'll take a solo show to
the Brighton Fringe next year, provided they’ll have me, of course.
I’ve been umming and ahhing for ages over whether to do it. Not in regard to Brighton specifically, but festivals in general. It’s been in the offing for a while, but I wanted to get the timing right. I’m still very new to the doing stand-up on my own and, while I’m pleased with how things have gone so far, I didn’t want to rush into my first hour. There’s a big difference between putting together a short or an extended set.
There are a couple of sticking points. Firstly, can I pull together something cohesive? One thing me and Glyn have been guilty of in the past is making our extended stand-up sets too bitty. Our 2010 Edinburgh show ‘Big in Small Places’ was a good example. While there were plenty of nice moments, it didn’t sit comfortably as a whole. Part of this was due to our venue, which didn’t suit our technical set-up, but a lot of it was to do with the material. We’ve tightened this up in our current show ‘Doggett & Ephgrave Project Stuff’, but if I’m to put something together on my own, I want to keep this in mind.
That said, I have ideas about a few loose themes that could tie a show together. The stitches between short bits of material should be less noticeable anyway, when they're not built around projection, like mine and Glyn’s stuff.
Then there’s the question of whether I could actually write an hour. Can I stay motivated without much outside intervention? I realised this morning that this was ridiculous. I’ve written a blog every day for over a year. That suggests commitment. Then there's all my different writing projects with Glyn, plus my collaborative and solo songwriting in the past, to stand me in good stead. In theory, at least.
Then there’s the big one: am I funny? Or more specifically: can I be funny on my own? These questions spark a crisis of confidence. The resulting worries are usually distant from fact. Actors will often watch plays thinking ‘I could never do that’, forgetting that if they were in the show, they would have done all necessary the work leading up to it; they wouldn’t do it without any rehearsal or preparation. Unless they were under the employment of a certain theatrical company who shall remain nameless.
If I was to answer the questions above with brutal honesty, I’d say ‘Yes I am, when I’m in the right mindset and have done the preparatory work.’ For most of the comedy gigs I do, I’m split between the roles of promoter, tech and performer, with the least emphasis of all put on option three. I’m often pitted against people at the top of their game, doing their best material without any of these additional concerns. While I won’t be able to completely relinquish promoter responsibilities when working alone at my level, I can at least try to put the emphasis back on performance first. I also won’t have to faff around with a projector.
So, that’s where I’m at for the moment. I’ll give it a go. I’ll hopefully crop up at a festival or two next year, subject to Doggett & Ephgrave deciding our 2015 game plan. I’ve got half an eye on Edinburgh, but there’s still a little time for that. I’d also need to sell most of my internal organs to fund it.
I’ve been umming and ahhing for ages over whether to do it. Not in regard to Brighton specifically, but festivals in general. It’s been in the offing for a while, but I wanted to get the timing right. I’m still very new to the doing stand-up on my own and, while I’m pleased with how things have gone so far, I didn’t want to rush into my first hour. There’s a big difference between putting together a short or an extended set.
There are a couple of sticking points. Firstly, can I pull together something cohesive? One thing me and Glyn have been guilty of in the past is making our extended stand-up sets too bitty. Our 2010 Edinburgh show ‘Big in Small Places’ was a good example. While there were plenty of nice moments, it didn’t sit comfortably as a whole. Part of this was due to our venue, which didn’t suit our technical set-up, but a lot of it was to do with the material. We’ve tightened this up in our current show ‘Doggett & Ephgrave Project Stuff’, but if I’m to put something together on my own, I want to keep this in mind.
That said, I have ideas about a few loose themes that could tie a show together. The stitches between short bits of material should be less noticeable anyway, when they're not built around projection, like mine and Glyn’s stuff.
Then there’s the question of whether I could actually write an hour. Can I stay motivated without much outside intervention? I realised this morning that this was ridiculous. I’ve written a blog every day for over a year. That suggests commitment. Then there's all my different writing projects with Glyn, plus my collaborative and solo songwriting in the past, to stand me in good stead. In theory, at least.
Then there’s the big one: am I funny? Or more specifically: can I be funny on my own? These questions spark a crisis of confidence. The resulting worries are usually distant from fact. Actors will often watch plays thinking ‘I could never do that’, forgetting that if they were in the show, they would have done all necessary the work leading up to it; they wouldn’t do it without any rehearsal or preparation. Unless they were under the employment of a certain theatrical company who shall remain nameless.
If I was to answer the questions above with brutal honesty, I’d say ‘Yes I am, when I’m in the right mindset and have done the preparatory work.’ For most of the comedy gigs I do, I’m split between the roles of promoter, tech and performer, with the least emphasis of all put on option three. I’m often pitted against people at the top of their game, doing their best material without any of these additional concerns. While I won’t be able to completely relinquish promoter responsibilities when working alone at my level, I can at least try to put the emphasis back on performance first. I also won’t have to faff around with a projector.
So, that’s where I’m at for the moment. I’ll give it a go. I’ll hopefully crop up at a festival or two next year, subject to Doggett & Ephgrave deciding our 2015 game plan. I’ve got half an eye on Edinburgh, but there’s still a little time for that. I’d also need to sell most of my internal organs to fund it.