The Yuk Yuk's Post Game Show

Anyone and everyone who's had a conversation with me over the past 3 weeks has heard me talk about my upcoming show at Yuk Yuk's in Calgary. My first set at a REAL comedy club. Not a bowling alley lounge, or a bar, or the mezzanine overlooking racquetball courts, but a place that exists entirely for stand up. Going into this show, I really built it up in my mind to be a huge deal. I had so many thoughts bouncing around my skull.

"There could be agents there."

"The Yuk's bookers might love me, and offer me a guest spot on an upcoming show, or maybe even sign me on the spot!"

"Maybe the host or headliner will decide that I'm a guy he HAS to work with, and offers to bring me along for his bookings."

"I can't wait to play in front of a huge crowd of dedicated comedy fans."

Another local comic, Zachary Landry, took the trip down to Calgary with me. He had done this same Pro/Am show once before, and said it wasn't that big of a deal. I wasn't buying it though. I was convinced that this was going to be THE SHOW that moved me up the comedy ladder. 

We walk in about 30 minutes before showtime to sign in and meet the room managers. The walls are covered in signed pictures of some the best comedians in the world, both past and present, who have performed there before. I was about to stand on the same stage that they stood on. That wasn't helping my nerves. The other comics arrived, and I knew most of them already. It calmed me down a bit to see some familiar faces. Some of them are really successful, but most were newer and still figuring it all out like me. That helped. Also, the crowd was pretty sparse, only about 20 people came. That was a double edged sword, because I'm used to small crowds, but a big part of my reason for coming in the first place was to try my set in front of a big audience. 

Not only was the crowd small, they were quiet too. The host and the first comic couldn't get the energy up too high (not for lack of trying), and now it's my turn. I turn on my video recorder and head up to the stage. 

It went...OK...

I was nervous, but, on watching my recording, it didn't show too much. But I was quiet and monotone, with way too many "uhs", and "umms". I wanted to make a big impact in that room, and just didn't have it. It wasn't my best set, but was far from my worst. To be kind to myself, all the comics had a rough time engaging the timid crowd. I saw some comics I respect do some great bits to pretty tepid results. 

The difference is, to them this was just another show. To me this was supposed to be THE show. That was a slap in the face. One set isn't going to magically turn everything around. There's probably going to be dozens, maybe hundreds of nights like this in the future for me, and after all those shows I still might be right where I am now. 

I'd like to think I'm one of the best comics in Red Deer, but in Calgary I was just another one in a hundred trying to get noticed. Trying to stand out and prove I'm ready for more. Last night showed me that I might not be ready yet, and that I can't sit back and expect someone to "save me". I have to focus on the process. Getting better and more consistent so that when I walk into a room like that, my skills are undeniable. I want to be able to take a cold room and own it. I've seen the best ones do that. 

But I can't.

Yet. 

A little down, but not out

B

Updates, Reality Checks and Juggling ALL THE THINGS

Hello again! It's been a long time. The main reason I've been away from blogging about what I'm up to, is that I've been up to a lot. I was about to say, "this last six months", but what I should really say is, "This last year", I've been knee-deep in various types of comedy and family times, with a dab of beer production and social media marketing tossed in there. Earning a living is also still necessary, so drop a full time job in there too. With all that's been happening, I've kind of put my head down and just pushed through it. It's been a constant stream of "next thing...next thing...etc.", but now I want to take a breath, stick my head way up and look at how far I've come and maybe get a clue on where the hell I'm going...

Let's start with Bull Skit!

Last season was massive, as our Veal Skit crew stepped up to become an equal part of the company with the other cast. We alternated main stage shows and put in more time than ever before. It was a great challenge, and Veal became stronger through the trials. Keeping morale and chemistry high wasn't always easy, and through various situations we lost a couple members off the team. Because we feel like family doing what we do together, it was hard going through those changes. Overall I'm so proud of how we stepped up and delivered all season though. 

This season, (Our 10th!) has seen more big change, as Veal and Bull Skits have been shuffled together with some new faces into a Full Time Cast, and a more casual Part Time Cast. I'm on the casual team, which in theory should open up more time for family and stand up, but I've still been running pretty hard. We survived a fun but intense third run of Sketch Fest, and then we jumped right into the season. We're presenting shows we've never attempted before and I'm starting to feel that tingle of fear again. That tension that comes from trying things you aren't certain you can pull off. I missed that feeling. 

Stand up!

My last blog talked about my big contest win in June, and I'm happy to report that I've carried over some momentum from that through the summer and beyond. When I did that contest, I'd probably only performed twenty or so sets over the last year-and-a-half. I've dropped at least that many since June. I'm excited about getting better, and hopefully will increase my presence in the scene over time. I've learned it's a tough grind to even moderate success in that business, but I'm inspired by some of the talented folks I get to work with, and I'm always learning something every night. 

Speaking of learning and new challenges, I'm just a few days away from promoting my first show! At the Penholder Tavern in my hometown of Penhold, Alberta, I'll be booking what hopefully will become a monthly show. While it's a bit challenging to add another activity to my schedule, I couldn't pass up the chance to see how the other side of the business works. Performing in various rooms over the last two years I've figured out my tastes for a great show, and I want to create a show that I'd love to watch. Getting to hand-pick the people I want to work with has been great. I hope it leads to bigger things, either as a comedian or a promoter. 

The Fam
The aspect of my life that gets neglected a bit as I chase this stuff is my family. It's a problem, and I'm nowhere near having it figured out yet. The kids are a bit older, so getting out of the house two or three nights a week is easier than it would have been a few years ago. I really try to pick my spots, but I have a hard time saying "no" to people. I try not to over-commit to Bull Skit, but I always have fun when I'm there, and I get twitchy when they are doing awesome things without me. I also want to get lots of stage time for stand up, both for getting better and to keep my visibility high. It also doesn't help when I get in my head about the other stuff when I actually AM home sometimes. 

I know that if I work too hard and drift further away from my home life, I may never be able to repair those relationships. Wifey and the kids support my passions, but I know it affects them when I leave, and I struggle with that balance constantly. My wife loves me, and loves having me around, and I don't honour that enough. I see my kids look down sadly when I'm putting on my shoes and saying "daddy's got a show". It guts me every time, but I can't bear the thought of letting it all go and just staying home. Before I had these new things in my life, I was unfulfilled and on edge most of the time. I knew something was missing.

I'm not an amazing comedian by any means, but I am decent at this stuff, and getting better all the time. I might be rationalizing here, but I want to show my children that they can find a "thing" that they love and go chase it. The "you can be anything you want" speech rings hollow if the speaker didn't at least take a shot at something themselves. I don't want to regret not trying. I also don't want to regret hurting my loved ones...

I especially feel a lot of guilt for Wifey. Eight years ago, she didn't know she'd be marrying a comedian, because I had no idea either. She didn't sign up for any of this. I'm not the same person she met thirteen years ago, but I suppose not many of us are. I've been learning that marriage isn't falling in love and assuming everything will just work out. It's falling in love with many different versions of the same person. She's grown and changed too. She's amazing at her job, and the best parenting partner I could ever want. She also still loves me, which is both surprising and awesome. I have a hard time expressing to her how hard it is to leave her at home when I'm out performing. I miss her, and I want her there with me to share those moments. I'm frustrated because that part of my life feels so separate from her, but we talked a few months back about her showing support to me by making sure that things at home are being handled in my absence. I semi-joke all the time that at least one of us needs to be a responsible parent, and it's rarely me. So that's been the arrangement. It's...working, but not well. 

There are days I want to do more and work harder, and there are days I want to slow way down and just be present and content. Most days have some of both. The juggling act is brutal. If one area is really ticking along, I know that another is suffering for it. 

I'm crazy fortunate to have these be my biggest issues. My wife and children love me. I love them, but I also love these things over here. Those aren't big problems, but they are mine. And I'm realizing I wouldn't trade them for anyone else's. Dumping all these thoughts into the keyboard helped me see that. 

Thanks for reading my self-digital-therapy session,
B

Just Me and a Mic

I love stand up comedy. 

For years, I've looked at the men and women who do it with awe. I wanted to try it myself, but I was afraid. I didn't think I could ever do what they did. When I discovered my local improv troupe, Bull Skit, I saw the classes as a way to build my confidence. Maybe after some training I could try getting on stage. Along the way, I ended up diving into Bull Skit full speed, and stand up had to take a back-seat to improv. Despite doing my first set over two years ago, I've only dabbled in it, with barely two dozen attempts under my belt.

This spring though, an event was announced that really had me excited. They were going to host a contest, with prize money and a big slot on an upcoming show. I saw it as a great chance to test myself, sure, against the other comedians, but mainly just to see how I would handle the pressure. So, within a week or two of Bull Skit Season 9 drawing to a close, I started writing jokes and doing open mics. Leading up to the competition, I put in about 5 or 6 sets, polishing my material, finding the rhythms of the laughs, and nailing my delivery. When the big night came, I felt good. There was some other locals I saw as a challenge, and a few from out of town that I had no idea about. I couldn't do anything about their sets though, just my own. 

My turn was coming, so I positioned myself in our unofficial staging area. The comic up there before me hadn't been up in years, and was really struggling. He lost his train of thought, and got shook up. When the crowd felt his discomfort, it quickly spread to them too. Suddenly, everyone in the room was not having a good time. For a second, I got worried about having to follow him and handle the cold, nervous crowd. Then I thought to myself:

 "I need to get these people back to a good place if I'm going to have a chance."

When the other guy finally finished, a table of older people right at the front just got up and left as he walked off stage. I couldn't blame them, but this was my opening. I was introduced, and stepped up there with a smile on.

"Hey everyone! Thanks for not leaving!"

...the crowd chuckled a bit

"It is like, 8 O'clock. They probably just needed to go to bed. It's fine."

...more chuckles

"Are you folks ready to have some fun? Let's have some fun, huh?"


The crowd gave a small cheer and you could almost feel everyone in the room (not least of which me) take a collective deep breath. It was OK to laugh again now. Now I could start my act. 

The set went great. It was possibly my best one ever, right when I needed it. I was calm and confident. The judges awarded me first place! I was so grateful and excited that I stepped up in the moment. I realized after what the secret was. I basically took control of the room that night. I've never felt like that before. Control is not a sensation I'm used to. My routine is that I try not to screw things up too badly as I careen through my day. Life just happens and I try to keep up. But for that 6 minutes, that lounge was my own little universe. I could almost feel the energy of the crowd, as I had them on the ride with me. I can see why guys like Judd Apatow get back into it after decades away. When it all clicks, there's no feeling like it. 

Of course, as the judges deliberated the winner, we were treated to the headliner, Tommy Mellor. He quickly reminded me that I still have a ton to learn, as he killed for 30 minutes. I don't have that in me. Not yet. But I know how far I've come already. I feel more relaxed on stage now, mostly thanks to the many hours of improv and sketch. When I started stand up, I was so afraid of having a bad set. Now, if things stall out a bit, I'll laugh about it in the moment and try to engage the crowd that way. When things aren't going well, I'll always learn a few things to change for next time, but I'm not afraid to fail. 

Will I ever be a famous, successful comedian? Most likely not, but it feels good trying to become one, and as long as that's true, I'll keep hustling.

Chasing dem laughs,

B

Being Bull Skit

Three years ago, I sat in the kitchen of Amy and Everett Wood. The Best of Bull Skit show, and with it their sixth season, had just ended. And the season always ends with a party at Chez Wood. My role that year was as a volunteer. I felt welcomed in as part of the Bull Skit family since Day One, but I wanted to do more. Auditions to join the cast were days away. I was so excited about the possibilities, but I was in awe of these people, and I was afraid that I may never be that good. But I loved improv, I loved sketch, and I wanted to be part of the action.

Three nights ago, I was back in that kitchen. Season nine is over. This time, as I looked around at the happy but exhausted faces in the room, I felt the exact same way. I made the cut in those auditions, and I’ve been riding the crazy-train with this crew ever since, but in that moment, I truly had a sense of what being a Bullskitter means.

-It means dedication, as you pour your time and energy into getting better, individually and as a cast.

-It means having to fit life in around our schedule, as we delivered a fresh show almost every week of the season.

-It means compromise, as you stay mindful that all of us have different agendas, tastes and styles to balance and blend together into our unique dynamic.

-It means understanding and support from your friends and family, as you walk out the door, sometimes for the fifth time that week, to head to the theatre. Or those moments where you ARE with them, but your head is stuck in the next show, or even worse, the last show.

But…

It also means that you get to look out off that stage, squinting through the lights, to see dozens of people there to enjoy YOU. To hear them laugh at what you and your friends have made. It means having a whole other family to go to every week. A place to go for escape, understanding, positivity, fulfillment and camaraderie. And when you’re with them, you get to create something unlike anything else in the world. Sure, there are thousands of comedy troupes, and many could be considered more “successful” depending on your metrics, but there’s only one Bull Skit.

Three years have brought a lot of change to this company. People have come and go, and because we feel like family, that is always hard. We’ve grown in every sense of the word. Veal Skit, once the junior crew, is now a full house team. That new level of responsibility was a bit scary, but we were ready for the challenge.

As we’ve grown and changed, I have done even more of that myself. I came in with no theatre background at all, and none of this felt natural to me at first. Even when I was “in”, I often felt like the outsider. The fraud who didn’t have as much to offer as the others. I didn’t have a lot of confidence. This group wasn’t having that though. They pulled me along with them, showing faith in me and giving me the tools I’d need to contribute. I’ve realized that the voice of doubt never fully leaves, but it’s much quieter now. I also know I still have so much to learn. There are a lot of little things a true pro does that I’m not doing yet, but I’m working on it. I don’t feel like I’m faking anything anymore. Now I’m a singing, dancing, screaming, shirtless, theatre-nerd comedian.

I’m a Bullskitter, and even after everything I just wrote, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

Thank you,

B

Sketchfest Strikes Back!

Don't sit down with a diaper on.

That is one key lesson I learned recently during my favorite week of the year, the Alberta Sketchfest. If the name didn't hint towards it, Sketchfest is a three day festival featuring sketch comedy and "fringe"-style performances right in my hometown of Red Deer, Alberta. We had acts come in from as far away as Winnipeg and Los Angeles. My improv/sketch troupe Veal Skit also represented for the second year in a row.

Sketchfest 2.0!

Last year, for the debut of 'Fest, it was also a bit of a debut for Veal Skit. Three months prior, we had just produced our first sketch comedy show. We were able to use some of our best sketches in the festival, and we did just fine, but I think I speak for all of us in saying that we were "just happy to be there". The talent on display from the other groups was fantastic, and just being a part of such a show was it's own reward.

This year's version was going to be very different, not just for Veal Skit, but for me. If last year was our debut, this one would be our coming out party. Throughout the previous season, we had produced three sketch revues that we took a lot of pride in. We sort of knew what we were doing now, and we had the confidence to do it bigger and better than before. Our whole cast was able to show the packed house just how much we'd improved, and it felt awesome.

 I know for me personally, I had a ton of growth as a writer and performer, and have moved through at least some of my insecurities of being able to work on the level of the talent around me. For a large part of my first two seasons, I constantly had to keep convincing myself that I belonged. When promoting our shows, I'd often say "Come! There'll be tons of great, funny people there, and I'll be there too!". I didn't feel like I was pulling my weight with the others in my own group sometimes, let alone being at a festival with some of the best acts in Western Canada and beyond. I was always afraid that I was just being dragged along behind other, more talented people.

Throughout all that though, I never stopped working hard to improve myself. I wanted to be a more useful member of my company, and be relied upon to deliver whatever my group needs from me. With the help of some great workshops that Jenna (our director) organized, and the support of the troupe and my family, I'm feeling like I CAN be that now. At least more often. With one exciting new addition to Sketchfest, I was about to test exactly how much I'd improved!

DK Reinemer was our guest from LA, and he wanted to try something crazy. Called "Collabojamma", it was a group comprised of some of the participants of the festival, working together for the first time. I didn't want to miss the chance to be a part of it, so I signed up. Basically, on the Friday of the festival, DK explained his company's creative process, and we utilized it to come up with some sketch premises. The following morning we wrote them. Eight hours later, we put on twenty minutes of hilarious sketches that didn't even exist the day before. Mind. Blown.

The Collabojamma Set List

The best part of this whole thing was that with the compressed timeline, you didn't have time to question yourself, or change your mind about something last minute, because it was ALL last minute. You had to dive in, give every step of the process your best work, and trust that it would be enough. There was no other option. I realize looking back that a year ago, I would never have survived this. Well, I wouldn't have DIED, but I wouldn't have brought much to the table, and the others would have had to pick up my slack. But I really felt like I delivered, and added to this amazing thing we created together. I'm so grateful for the chance to tackle something so challenging with such a great, supportive group! 

Team Collabojamma. I'm the weirdo in the back. DK is Mr. Solo Cup.

Yeah, I learned a lot about adult diapers, but I learned more than just that. Bring on Bull Skit Season Nine. I'm ready.

-Cupid Cop

Reckless enthusiasm > Judgement

Ok.

It's time to drop some confessions here. 

For most of this year, hell, most of my LIFE, I've been letting anxiety, fear and worry paralyze me. Those thoughts and feelings have just always been there, lurking over my shoulder. Inhibiting my creativity. My relationships. My motivation. My ability to enjoy any moment. My self worth and trust in my abilities. 

I'm really tired of this happening. There's so much I want to do, and say, and be. But I shut myself down before I even start. The gap between what I want to produce and achieve, and my perception of what I can actually do is sometimes pretty large. And that gives me an easy excuse to not really try. 

It impacts so many parts of my life. My writing is a big one. I'll second-guess myself before I even put a word on a page and nothing gets done. It affects my family, when I get deep into my head about all the things I'm failing at, or the bills, or next week's schedule, I'm robbing them of our time together. I'm never fully present. It also really limits me as an improvisor, because being completely committed and present on stage is so important. And if you're stressed out about failing, you're going to fulfill that prophecy. 

So what changed?

I met Jorin Garguilo.

Jorin is an improvisor with over 20 years of experience. He performs and teaches out of Chicago, the Mecca of improv. He's a very smart, positive and enthusiastic teacher. Over the past weekend, he worked with Bullskit for over 16 hours, culminating in a show where we got to share our stage with him. 

Coming out of the previous Bullskit season, I was struggling with my improv. I wasn't enjoying myself that much. I was worried about not pulling my weight on the team, and it even got to a point where I questioned if I belonged with them sometimes. I over-analyzed everything I was doing. 

When Jorin started speaking to us though, it was like he knew exactly what I needed to hear. I can't even count how many brilliant things I soaked in over the weekend, but one particular line resonated the most.

"Have a party onstage that the audience desperately wants to be invited to "

Now, what that line meant for me was "if you're not having a blast up there, you're doing it wrong." I was too stuck in my head to enjoy what we do up there. 

Kind of a revelation...

Later in the workshop, he asked each cast member what we look for and enjoy most in our scenes. I told the group that I usually worry too much about technique and "doing it right", and that I most enjoy scenes that have no judgement. Scenes where we are having a ridiculously fun time. Scenes that, even if they aren't solid on a technical level, everyone in the room is laughing at and causing a lot of joy to happen. I think that, if I focus on doing that every time I go on stage, the technical stuff will work it's way in there eventually. But fun comes first for me now. It has to. 

When we got to play with Jorin that night, it was exactly what I was hoping for. I was outright gleeful the whole time up there. I couldn't stop smiling at what we were creating, and by the end of the set, I was just laughing uncontrollably. It was joyful and free of judgement and anxiety. Through dropping my perfectionism, I had a perfect moment.

The weekend was kind of a whirlwind, but now that I have time to reflect, I realize that once again, an improv lesson is actually a life lesson. Less thinking. More feeling. Less brain. More heart. Less judgement. More enthusiasm. Less fear. More passion. 

The fact that I'm writing this right now means it working. So far anyway...

Recklessly yours, 

B

Improv: Tales from a Sophomore Chump

I sit here basking in glee and rum. I just returned home from my improv troupe's student showcase, where our public workshop students get to show off what they've learned in front of family and friends. My sub-group Veal Skit gets to headline these shows. Some of my friends were in the classes this time, and I got as much joy watching them as I did performing myself. 

Like an improv junkie, I flashed back to that feeling of first getting to do this. The feeling of getting up in front of random people and doing random things. Almost exactly two years ago, I was up there doing my first student show. I felt that first jolt of adrenaline.  That rush I can't stop chasing. 

I've been wanting to write here about improv, but I keep dancing around it. I think I've found the subject a bit daunting. There is so much I want to say about it, that I haven't known where to start. Looking back on what keeps me coming back seems like a good choice, so here goes...

Why I love improv

-THE PEOPLE 

I'm sure that every subculture has some sense of camaraderie, and people of similar interests form bonds, but improv takes that to another level. It's all hugs, high-fives and support. All the time. Any negativity or judgement is so rare. The stressful situations that happen on stage and the vulnerability we display creates deep friendships. It's hard not to love that environment. 

-LOSING FEAR

I don't always show it, but I'm an anxious guy. New things and a change of routine freak me out. Improv has pushed me to look past those issues.  Attempting new things has gone from terrifying to exciting.  This week I joined in my daughter's silks dance class for parent's night.  The old me still would have attended, but would have been too self-consious to have any fun. I would have been looking around the room, afraid to look foolish in front of the teacher and parents. Now I look foolish all the time, and have learned that those times are the most fun.  

-THE MENTAL RE-WIRING

From the very first class, improv showed me a new way of looking at, well, everything. Every exercise, no matter how odd and silly, pushes my boundaries and perspective. Group mind, presence, positivity, acceptance and quick-thinking are the foundations of improv, and I find I apply them to so many situations daily. Everything from handling a difficult work conversation, to how I react to stress or talk to my children has completely changed. It's like mental yoga (although also similar to yoga, I've noticed that people who don't do it don't really want to hear about it). I'm more mentally flexible when life throws me curveballs now, and yes, I really do think I'm funnier (or at least quicker in getting to the bad zinger now). It's not automatic though, and I still struggle with aspects sometimes, especially being present in the moment. I really suck at that one. But I'm getting better all the time. 

-UNBRIDLED CREATIVITY

I haven't seen any other art form or performance that has the pure creative spirit of improv. Maybe jazz I guess, but even those guys need a pile of fancy instruments to make the magic happen. An improv troupe can perform anywhere at anytime with nothing to work with. I've really enjoyed performing sketch comedy as well, but they are such different experiences. Yes, in sketch, the laughs tend to be more consistent and you can expect a certain polish and quality to a sketch routine. In improv though, the laughs can be bigger and the highs much higher, as everyone in the room, on both sides of the stage, can share a moment so spontaneous and singular that it hits you somewhere deeper. Everyone in that moment knows how special and fleeting it was. The sad part of that magic is that you really did "have to be there". Telling the story the next day never has the same effect as telling someone a joke you saw on TV. It's also why improv doesn't normally succeed televised. The energy in the room is a huge part of the experience. It's just the best. 

That's just a sample of why this stuff is so great. Why I can't shut up about it, and why I keep coming back for more. 

Making it up as I go along

B