What I Learned from Failing as a Comedian
Can Failure and Success Be the Same? (Comedy Mindhacks #36)
Comedy was always a bucket list item for me, one of those things I wanted to try just once, mostly to say I’d done it. At one point, I had called up a club, got open mic info, but…never went. 3 more years passed until I decided to sign up for an in-person comedy class and actually followed through. The bonus? It ended with a live showcase.
To me, that showcase felt like a finish line. I did it. I was done. I could move on. But when people told me I’d been the best of the night, it somehow began to feel like a starting line instead. Things flipped. I remember watching other performers after that at open mics and thinking, “Okay, yeah…I’m at least better than that person,” which, in comedy, is sometimes all the motivation you need. So, I signed up for an open mic myself, started hitting it frequently, and before long, I was rising through the local ranks and landing some paid gigs.
BUT…the first cracks in my confidence came when I realized how unpredictable comedy really is. A joke that crushed in one venue could absolutely die in another. I realized that open mic crowds were a different species from weekend ticket buyers. At the open mics, some were forgiving, others were openly hostile, but most were just looking at their phones. I started to see how much of comedy was about reading a room, reacting in real time, and calling audibles when the energy shifted. That’s a skill set no one really talks about when you’re just starting out.
Plus, the longer I kept at it, the more I had to wrestle with a very weird and painful irony: the act of getting up and trying to make strangers laugh felt bold at first but continuing to do it when it kept not working; well, that started to feel slightly delusional. I gotta admit, it was tough and pretty embarrassing when jokes didn’t land. It made me question myself over and over again.
Even so, I had this belief, or at least a stubborn hunch, that if I’d made a room full of strangers laugh once, I could do it again. I knew I could. That one belief kept me going back to the mic. Being real though, chasing that kind of reaction takes both courage and a little bit of madness. The feedback I got from other comedians and different audiences ranged from harsh to surprisingly gentle, but the message was always clear: this is hard.
Plus, doing clean material in grungy clubs made it even harder. If I wanted laughs, I had to try to out-write everyone else. So, I kept at it. I kept pivoting and kept pushing. Because sometimes showing up again is the only win you get and, when that’s the case, it has to be enough. Here’s the craziest part: I realized that failing wasn’t really failing. Huh?!
That’s right! Even though failing definitely felt like failing at times, I started to see it was ultimately just an invitation. It was a chance to pause, rethink, and adjust. It pushed me to question what I was doing and why I was doing it. And in that way, failing turned out to be a kind of mirror, not a verdict. Eventually though, I realized something that changed everything for me: succeeding wasn’t all that different than failing. Hugh?!
That’s right! A good set, a great night, and a room full of laughs, yes, they felt amazing, but at the end of the day, they offered me the same thing failure did: a new starting point. I had a new chance to grow. In the end, success and failure were, if you will, just two sides of the same mic.
These days, I don’t really get intimidated by the idea of “failure” because I’ve seen through it. It’s a mirage. It’s a trick of the light (or darkness). Now, I just go for it. If I tell a joke or try something and nobody laughs, fine. At least I thought it was funny. That counts for something. Then I move on. Later, maybe I’ll think about how I could’ve done it differently or better while I’m watching or listening back. But I’m not frozen by the fear of getting it wrong or messing up or bombing. Why? Because stand-up comedy gave me the freedom to try, fail, and still keep going. What a gift!
Maybe you’re reading this and thinking about doing stand-up, writing, creating, or just taking a weird leap. Well, if you do, remember this: failure isn’t nearly as scary as it seems. It’s not a monster waiting to humiliate you. It’s more like a teacher who shows up when you have bad timing but really wants to help you and give you another shot. Of course, you might not enjoy the lesson in the moment, but if you stick around, you realize it’s not the end. In fact, it’s really just the beginning of the next version of you. What a killer mindhack, eh?!
By the way, if you have any interest at all in learning to write some jokes or doing stand-up comedy, you should check out my online joke writing course, “The Joke Writer’s Lab,” HERE. It’s totally worth it.
