Why Bigger Opportunities Feel Scarier
Changes, Challenges, and Chokes (Comedy Mindhacks #136)
Recently, my in-laws gave my wife and I a couple of kayaks they’ve owned for at least the last 20 years. After getting them, however, I discovered the most stressful part isn’t even using them to kayak. It’s loading them and then driving with them on top of the vehicle! Do you know how stressful it is to drive 70 miles an hour wondering if the two red kayaks on top of the truck are about to go airborne?! Well, let me give you the answer: It’s crazy stressful!
I know, getting free kayaks sounds wonderful, and once they’re actually in the water, it is. But the worst part is getting them on the car or truck then to wherever we’re going. It’s insane how challenging it is. Hoisting kayaks onto the roof of the car, pulling straps tight, checking every knot, and convincing myself they won’t suddenly become missiles on the interstate has all the makings of causing a full-blown anxiety disorder.
The first time we transported them, which was roughly a 3-hour drive, I spent most of the way there listening to every creak, shake, whistle, and thump coming from above my head. I pulled the sunroof shade back and, from inside the truck, literally watched as the kayaks slid a few inches sideways then backwards then sideways again. That was unnerving to say the least. I pulled over more than once to tighten cords, tug on straps, and reassure myself that everything was probably fine. By the time we arrived, the roof of my truck had scratches, my nerves were shot, and the freakin’ kayaking hadn’t even started. Ugh!
What makes this whole thing so absurd is that the kayaks themselves aren’t really even the problem. The problem was everything I had attached to these 9-footers before we ever reached our destination. Seriously, by the time we arrived, I was no longer thinking about paddling, scenery, or enjoying the day with my family. I was thinking about whether it was even all worth it.
Weirdly enough, big comedy opportunities kinda work the same way. What I mean is this: My set may be familiar, rehearsed, and well within my ability. Well, the set isn’t the problem. The problem is everything I strap onto my set, so to speak, before I even step foot on stage. A big competition could become proof that I belong, a big showcase could become the chance to change everything, and a big booker in the audience could become a verdict on me and my craft.
And that right there is when the performance can begin sliding around in my head like a kayak on a poorly padded truck roof. I start obsessing over the minutiae or getting in my head about an opening line (I literally did this just a couple weeks ago!). I start checking every transition, monitoring every pause, thinking about where my hands are, and wondering whether the audience is responding the way they should. Then I mess up. The mind games are for real.
And suddenly, the same material that normally runs on automatic now has to pass through some sort of highly guarded mental monitoring system. Or, instead of trusting what I’ve already practiced, I start trying to operate every tiny part of it manually. I micro-manage myself, in other words. And that can go south really fast. I start missing the forest for the trees and the next thing I know, I’m blowing the forest up. I’m choking.
Choking under pressure sucks! When a skill has been practiced enough, it should become muscle memory, which is exactly what allows it to work smoothly. When the stakes rise, though, our attention can turn inward and we can start sabotaging ourselves. But I don’t the problem is always a lack of preparation or nerves, when it comes to bigger opportunities, the wrong kind of attention to the wrong things at the wrong time can be the culprit. Let me give a few examples.
Many of us just spent weeks watching the World Cup. We saw some of the greatest players in soccer history step up to take penalty kicks and…miss. In practice over the years, they’ve probably taken thousands and thousands of these shots. But in this particular World Cup match, these stars stepped up and, in between the time of the foul and the ref’s go-ahead whistle, the pressure of the big moment got to them. They got in their own heads. They were overthinking. And it messed them up in the end.
Basketball offers a great picture of this, too. A player may make a thousand free throws in practice or pre-game without giving much thought to mechanics. Then Game 7 of the championship arrives, the arena gets quiet, and suddenly every movement becomes deliberate. The shooter starts thinking about their elbow position, wrist angle, follow-through, and everything else that normally happens without conscious effort. Their physical task hasn’t changed, but their attention has. And…they miss the big shot; they choke.
Comedy works the same way. Sometimes the reason comedians choke on stage isn’t because they suddenly forgot how to tell jokes, but because they attached a heavier meaning to that certain performance. That’s what makes pressure so strange, I think. Sometimes the opportunities get bigger because my past efforts have created more success; yet, that same success can make my next performance feel heavier than the ones that came before it. When I was on Nateland Live a few months back, the stakes felt raised for some reason. The reason? Because, in my head, I attached a heavier meaning to that performance. In that moment I began attaching things like my identity and reputation and all future possibilities to five minutes on stage. It’s really craze how our minds can try to play tricks on us like that. And that’s exactly why we need mindhacks.
Here’s my point: My recent kayak debacle reminded me that carrying something safely doesn’t require obsessing over it every second. At some point, yes, the straps definitely have to be tightened. But also, what I prepared eventually has to be trusted, and the drive has to continue. So it goes with stand-up comedy. I should always prepare carefully, know my material, and take each opportunity seriously, but eventually I gotta stop watching through the sunroof and pay attention to what’s right in front of me, namely, the road…the road right in front of me.
And here’s another thing: Having great tools to help along the road can make a big difference. Recently, I created a new app, a tool I wish I’d have had early on: Comedian Persona Explorer. It can help get you ready. Whether you begin with a single report or continue using it as you grow, my goal in creating it is simple: I hope you’ll spend more time becoming the comedian only you can be. Check it out HERE.
Along the same lines, let me just say that, if reflections and tools like these are helpful to you, that’s also exactly why I wrote Comedy Mindhacks. My goal isn’t simply to help comedians write better jokes. It’s to help comedians understand the invisible thinking behind better comedy. Every mental model becomes another tool for building momentum, and over time those small shifts in thinking have a way of producing much bigger shifts on stage.
This entire book is built around helping comedians identify the mental obstacles, hurdle over them, and boost their momentum. If this article resonated with you, you’ll find a lot more like it inside the book. You can check out sample pages HERE. If you’re not yet a subscriber, use code MH10LIVE at checkout HERE for 10% off. Free subscribers automatically receive 15% off, and paid subscribers receive 35% off because I’m a big believer in rewarding people who invest in themselves. 👉 Click HERE to grab the book.
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