I’ve only got two
more performances of last year’s show to go - tonight in London and
next month in Leicester - and while I’m still proud of it, I realised yesterday why it’s so hard to keep hold of that.
When I first performed a skeleton version of it at Bath Comedy Festival last April, I was already happy with the reaction it got; for me, it was nice to be doing something fresh, plus I was fortunate enough that the audience enjoyed it at this early stage. The following month I took a slightly more polished version to the Brighton Fringe which also went down well, and this continued to build across the various previews in June and July and into the (allegedly) finished version to Edinburgh.
The problem psychologically is the negative by-product you pick up along the way. In most cases, every show is the first time that audience has seen it, yet inevitably I’ve been to every one (it would be weird it I wasn’t); and while there’s nothing wrong with having to approach it afresh each time - that’s the essence of acting - the hardest part is releasing yourself from the obstacles you’ve had to get over in the interim and not letting them have a knock-on effect.
There were lots of positives to embrace in nearly twelve months of doing it, but there were plenty of negatives to withstand too: the countless cancelled previews and dates booked with the hope of an industry presence for them not to turn up (all of which cost money); being told I was nominated for an award, for it to be a hoax; a stolen suitcase-full of flyers; my equipment briefly getting lost in the post; a disappointing number of reviews (including another slating from Chortle); the lack of outside assistance due to being self-produced and self-funded, and the never-ending cost.
However happy you are with what you’ve written at the beginning, it’s inevitable that all of the above (and more) will have an impact, which in turn affects the next performance you do; over time these negative factors build up and - at their worst - turn into resentment; it’s like comedy constipation, to coin an unpleasant term. And like so much in life, the bad bits are the easiest to remember and the good bits get lost.
This is why it'll be nice to put the current show to bed next month, but that’s not to take anything from it. While there have been plenty of challenges, I mustn’t lose sight of the fact it's still an achievement; perhaps most importantly of all, plenty of people have enjoyed it. That’s the purpose of putting on a show, whatever certain external and internal voices might think.
When I first performed a skeleton version of it at Bath Comedy Festival last April, I was already happy with the reaction it got; for me, it was nice to be doing something fresh, plus I was fortunate enough that the audience enjoyed it at this early stage. The following month I took a slightly more polished version to the Brighton Fringe which also went down well, and this continued to build across the various previews in June and July and into the (allegedly) finished version to Edinburgh.
The problem psychologically is the negative by-product you pick up along the way. In most cases, every show is the first time that audience has seen it, yet inevitably I’ve been to every one (it would be weird it I wasn’t); and while there’s nothing wrong with having to approach it afresh each time - that’s the essence of acting - the hardest part is releasing yourself from the obstacles you’ve had to get over in the interim and not letting them have a knock-on effect.
There were lots of positives to embrace in nearly twelve months of doing it, but there were plenty of negatives to withstand too: the countless cancelled previews and dates booked with the hope of an industry presence for them not to turn up (all of which cost money); being told I was nominated for an award, for it to be a hoax; a stolen suitcase-full of flyers; my equipment briefly getting lost in the post; a disappointing number of reviews (including another slating from Chortle); the lack of outside assistance due to being self-produced and self-funded, and the never-ending cost.
However happy you are with what you’ve written at the beginning, it’s inevitable that all of the above (and more) will have an impact, which in turn affects the next performance you do; over time these negative factors build up and - at their worst - turn into resentment; it’s like comedy constipation, to coin an unpleasant term. And like so much in life, the bad bits are the easiest to remember and the good bits get lost.
This is why it'll be nice to put the current show to bed next month, but that’s not to take anything from it. While there have been plenty of challenges, I mustn’t lose sight of the fact it's still an achievement; perhaps most importantly of all, plenty of people have enjoyed it. That’s the purpose of putting on a show, whatever certain external and internal voices might think.