New Year Check In

So...New Years, huh? People tend to use this time to reflect on what last year was, and what next year could be. The combination of holiday craziness and my general laziness is causing this to happen a couple of weeks into the year. 

Hey this is free. Sorry not sorry....

Seriously though, 2018 was quite a year I must say. Every month, I dug in a little harder on stand-up comedy. Which resulted in the following things:

-I started producing my own comedy shows in January. By the end of the year, I'd delivered 8 shows to 3 different venues, with average crowds of around 60. 

-I competed in 4 different contests. 2 in Edmonton and 2 in Calgary. 

-I tripled the amount of sets I've done in a year, and more than doubled my total amount. 

-I tried roast battles and found I don't suck at them.

-I led an intro to stand-up workshop. 

-To start the year, my longest set was a shaky 15 minutes. By year's end, I had done a couple of decent 30 minute sets. 

-I closed out two shows, one in Calgary, and dipped my toe in the corporate event waters. 

-I was nominated for Comedian of the Year at the Red Deer Entertainment Awards. 

Not bad huh?

I'll admit, I was pretty proud of these things. There was even some cockiness creeping in, until I kept the following in mind:

-I didn't advance past the first round in any of those contests. 

-I was almost never the best performer on any show I was on. 

-I only sold out 2 of the shows I produced. 

-I often felt I wasn't focused enough. 

-My 30 minutes isn't that tight yet. 

-While I don't suck at roasts, I'm not a true killer on them yet. 

So....good things happened, progress was made, but realistically, all I've really done is become a solid piece of the tiny Red Deer comedy scene and am managing (usually) to not make a show I'm on worse. That's not nothing, but I've only really advanced from rookie to novice. I made strides, but I'm still just an open-mic amateur in a small city. There's pros and cons to that. I'm under the radar, so I can develop with less pressure, but that also means as I do improve, it's hard to gain traction and attention. 

Looking back on the year was easy, but looking ahead has been trickier. I don't expect to see the same amount of growth as I had before. I think that will slow down. I still have a ton to learn as a writer and performer, but I think the lessons will be smaller and less frequent. You're bound to see change the first year you commit harder to any pursuit, but that level of change is rarely sustainable. 

I've also found, as I adjusted my priorities last year, how much I had been missing at home. It took a few weeks/months, but I'm more settled just being at home with my wife and kids more. Being present with them has been so great! So I want to move forward with care. Sure, running as hard as possible with no regard for anything else in my life could accelerate my career. COULD. But, nothing is promised to me. All my passion and effort could lead to staying right around where I am, so I'd rather try to keep a little balance in my life and not force things. Sure, I may miss out on certain opportunities. I actually turned down a contest spot last week for a family event. But that's fine. I don't want to gamble with the important people in my life for something that may never come. 

"Success" is pretty ethereal in comedy. I know a few comics who have "made it" by most people's measure, but they are still hustling to fill the calendar and usually perform for people who have no clue who they are. It's never going to be easy, and may never be profitable. So I'm trying to relax about goals and milestones. I told my comedy workshop that if you can walk off the stage having had fun, while taking something away that'll make you better, and made the crowd happy, you're a successful comedian. I need to practice the preaching. 

That being said, it's not a bad idea to set some targets. After all, a 30 minute set wasn't on the horizon until I made it a goal. There are things I want to strive for. I want to keep improving of course, but I want to increase my visibility. Especially in the clubs. If I want to take any steps toward going pro, "passing" the clubs is a key part of that. I have to get Calgary and Edmonton to notice where I'm at. I also want to make the finals in at least one contest this year. Comedy contests are very subjective, but if you aren't clearly good enough to advance past the first round, then you need to work. Lastly, I really want to open for a headliner on the road. I want to see what that's like, and to see how I handle it. If I struggle or it causes too much stress for my homelife, I want to know, so I can adjust to that. 

Overall, I just want to stay active, stay joyful, and be "around" for when opportunity knocks. 

Bring it on, 2019!

B

The Magic of Trying

I'm incredibly inspired right now. I just got off the stage I shared with my improv troupe, Bull Skit. But I wasn't back to do improv. Not the way I used to anyway. 

This time I was there to do a set of stand up, alongside Zachary Landry, and then we let the crowd pick our topics. Fully improvised stand up comedy. Even my fellow improvisers, people who make up amazing things every week, were terrified for us. I'm not going to pretend that either of us delivered pure gold, but that wasn't really the goal. It was more, "Can we even pull this off at all?"

And yes. We did that!

How it was going to go was secondary to doing it at all. 

Tonight was just one of many nights that drove the same lesson home. I dug into the backlog of this blog and found this:

Reckless Enthusiasm > Judgement 

Two years ago, that was me trying to push past my own fears and need for perfection. The last few weeks have been me on the other side of that and moving further away from those issues every day. 

I had the chance to teach an intro to stand up workshop, because while I'm no pro, I can definitely pass on what I've learned on my journey so far. The one lesson that I tried to pass on that hit me hardest was:

"Don't overestimate the stakes of any situation. No matter how great or terrible you think a set went, when you wake up tomorrow, you'll be the only person who was in that room who's still thinking about it. Even if it was extra memorable in either direction, That statement still runs true the day or week after. People are too self-involved to reflect on what you did that one night."

I'm a struggling, unknown, amateur comedian. People still notice me more for my day job then anything comedy related. And there's SO. MUCH. FREEDOM IN THAT! I don't have to play it safe. I don't have a career to ruin. If I stink up an open mic, there's another one coming the week after. I can screw up. Get weird. Take risks. Say yes to every challenge. 

And no matter how any of that goes, everything is going to be fine. Better than fine, because I'm not worried about the result. I don't have to be. I just have to do the thing, and learn from the thing. That's it! 

-Six months ago, I looked at roast battles and said to myself, "I'm not that kind of comedian". That was fear of failure talking. Now I've done three that went passably well, and I'm gearing up for my next one. And at one of those battles, a veteran comic gave me some kind words and told me "when you've got thirty minutes ready, let me know and you can head on the road with me." At the time, that felt like a really high hurdle to jump. A month ago, I did my first twenty minute set, and my first thirty is four weeks away. I just decided to try. 

-A year ago, running my own show seemed like a dream. Six shows later, I'm a comedy promoter.

-Even then, I was baby-stepping my way into it, then Simon King called looking to partner up on some dates in the area for early December. The rub was I had to cold-call a handful of venues to try to book the shows. That was scary, but yesterday I booked a show that could make me hundreds of dollars. 

-There are guys in my scene that two years ago were way ahead of me. Then I shifted focus and committed to getting at it. I just hit one hundred sets this month. Three months ago I was barely over seventy. A year prior less than half of that. Now, I feel I'm passing those guys. Not because I'm funnier than them. I'm just doing more. Pushing myself. Just plain trying. 

Which leads me to tonight, where I decided to face forty people, and have them shout things like "Addiction treatment!" "Jello Shots!" and "Russian Hackers!" at me, and had to try to deliver comedy on the spot about them. Was it scary? Kind of, yeah. Did I kill? Not hardly. But did I prove to myself that it's something I can do? Yep. 

Most of the things above didn't execute to perfection. None of them really. But if I hadn't tried them, I'd be back where I already was. And failing any of those things wouldn't have put me back any further than that. I lost nothing by trying. NOTHING! I didn't let doubt or anxiety slow me down. I didn't let others talk me out of them. 

By traditional standards, I'm nowhere near "success". I'm not making money at this. No one knows me yet. My material and stage presence have a long way to go. But I'm pushing and challenging myself, and taking something away from every swing and miss. That feels like a win. Or at least puts me a position to win when the time comes. 

Keep trying everybody,

B

Bombing, Dark Stuff, and What I Learned From Them.

After performing at a couple of roast battles, I had a shift in how I came up with material. Having to write mean, dirty, and dark jokes about people started bleeding into the my other writing. Out of nowhere one afternoon I wrote a very dark new bit about child kidnapping that moved through pedophilia, murder and prostitution. It was difficult stuff for sure. Way out of my usual voice, and more serious and challenging for a crowd to get into. I wanted to stretch my creativity with stuff like this. I respect the Stanhopes, Burrs, and Simon Kings of the world that can nail difficult premises and get people laughing about subjects they want nothing to do with. I wanted to know if I could pull that off just like them. 

Turns out not so much...

 That night I was at an open mic and gave the crowd the choice to hear the new bit. They regretted saying yes, as I took them to some heavy places. Some of the crowd did laugh, but I ended up walking a table of ladies at the end of my set. "Walking a Table" means you caused people to leave by being bad or hard to take onstage. That had never happened to me before. And fairly, in that coffee shop, in the daylight, with no one drinking, that material was really hard to hear. 

I completely understood that, and knew that I could try the stuff again on a "Dark and Dirty Show" that was coming up a couple of months later. That show was last week. I wanted to know how this stuff would fly in a place that is better suited to hear it. 

Flying did not happen. I could feel the crowd tightening as I got into it. I knew I had to keep confident and push ahead. Letting them rattle you out of a bit is always doom. As I hit the darkest part of the bit, they got me. I stepped out of it and yelled at them. "This is a dark and dirty show! You came for this!" I did this at the expense of the part of the joke where I try to spin them out of it to get the laugh. By the end of it, two tables had walked, and complained about me on the way out. The crowd completely hated me, and were seconds away from outright booing me. I've never seen anyone get booed at these shows. Even when I first started, I never bombed like that. The stink of the shame hung on me the rest of the night. People I'd normally chat up on the way out wouldn't come near me. Even the staff looked at me different. 

After I had a couple of days to process everything I felt after, here's what I came away with:

-When doing material like this, the first step is to get them on their heels and make them uncomfortable. You want to build a tangible sense of tension. I had that down for sure. The problem is, step two is to pop that tension balloon in a way that gets them laughing, usually extra hard to release that nervous energy. I couldn't nail that part. 

-So why couldn't I? The shortest answer is I'm just not good enough yet. My writing isn't strong enough to have the bit precisely built to manipulate the tension. My delivery of the material wasn't good enough to have them on my side, and my level of stage confidence and poise is too low to handle that hostility and pivot into a laugh when it wasn't going well. All of those things. 

-Stand Up is the ability to relay your ideas to an audience in a way that they understand and find funny. I didn't execute that for those reasons above. I'd never blame the crowd for reacting the way they did, because I didn't do my job. The more challenging the concept you're trying to deliver, the better you have to be at those skills. 

-The other main thing I realized is that I need to be liked up there. I NEED it. When they didn't come on that messed up road I was trying to drag them down, and they turned on me, I couldn't handle it. Some comics live in that place, and love it. I was so uncomfortable. I need to assess going forward if I need to get more comfortable with being unlikable, or cater my material to stay in my happy place. 

The next question is, what's next for that material and do I regret doing it?

No. Not at all.

The only way to determine if you can do something is to take a swing at it. I struck out bad, but at least I know now. The lessons I took away were worth how gross it all felt at the time. 

However, now that I have that info, I don't need to go back to the well anytime soon. Yes, I could keep chipping away at that bit. Refining it until it hits. But how many more terrible shows would I have to get there? How many tables would I walk trying to get that joke right, and how many showrunners would want to keep letting me try at the expense of their show? It's not worth that. None of my material is worth that. If I keep progressing as a comic in general, at some point in the future I can go back to this bit, blow the dust off and be able to adjust it with more experience. I can get it to where it needs to be much faster, and with less traumatized crowds on the way there. 

So for now, it's going on the shelf until I have the chops to do it right. 

Thanks for reading as always

B

Anatomy of a Brad Joke

So far, diving into stand-up has been great. I've been putting in lots of sets, and writing steady. I've actually had a couple of friends ask me recently about how the jokes come out. It's not always the same way every time, and I have no idea how professionals do it, but I CAN tell you how the joke I wrote yesterday came along. I can't promise it's good, or even close to being finished, but it's fresh, and I want to talk about it. Here we go. 

DISCLAIMER

I am a huge comedy nerd, and if you aren't, this may suck for you. Sorry. 

I was at work yesterday (electronics retail sales), and in a slow moment, I looked around and realized that most of what I sell is pretty frivolous. Which led me to think about the process of selling stuff to people that they may think they need, but probably don't. So that got me to the PREMISE. 

The next step is the SETUP. An effective setup should, well, set the table for where you're about to take the crowd. (Or about to completely subvert that expectation, but that's not what I'm going for here). 

"I like my job, but it's weird selling people stuff they don't need." 

This is a pretty traditional type of joke, so I'm heading straight to the PUNCHLINE. For this punchline, I tried to make an analogy that related what talking semi-useful tech stuff to customers is like.

"Selling iPads to old people makes me feel like a missionary in the Amazon trying to sell Jesus to a pygmy."

Now, this punch isn't that strong. It's OK, but the comparison I'm trying to make may not be that clear yet. It needs something at the end to drive it home. This is usually called a TAG. In this case, I'm going to use a type of tag that's really popular, but one I don't tend to use, called an ACT OUT. I'm pretending that I'm either at my job, or the missionary using the same sales pitch. 

"I know. You've been getting by just fine your whole life without this, but I really think this is going to give your life some meaning. Besides, your friends and family already have it, and you don't want to feel left out do you?"

That's a joke! I have no idea if it's going to work, because I haven't told it yet. But it was fun trying to wrestle that general idea into something that's hopefully funny. To get 30 plus minutes of solid material, (which is my current goal) I'm going to have to write 3 to 4 times that much and whittle it all down to something tight, consistent and hilarious. This joke may end up in that set as is, or change completely on it's way in, or be told a couple of times and dropped. I have no idea what will happen yet, but I'm excited to find out, and to keep pumping out 1000 more of these. 

Thanks for still being awake and reading this. I appreciate you for digging the craft of this enough to check this out. 

Cheers,

B

Saying Bye to Bull Skit

   So, the problem with having a neglected blog, is that when you do get back to it, you have some catching up to do. 

In the last two months, I've become a veteran of two roast battles, (both of which I did quite well on), held my own at Comedy Monday Night, (a highly respected Calgary open mic),  and decided to quit my improv/sketch troupe Bull Skit Comedy. 

*record scratch*

What?

I know. For those of you who have been reading this regularly, Bull Skit was a huge part of my life. and that's actually the problem. It was becoming too huge. This past season, I was a "casual" player. That should have meant that I was not around as much. I still wanted to be a big part of what we were doing though, so I was almost as busy as any other season. The problem was that I couldn't put stand up on the back burner any longer. I wanted to chase that as well. This caused me to be stretched thin and my family suffered for it. Some months I was away almost half of the time. It was too much. 

So my plan for this season was to take the "casual" role to heart and to be less available to the company. The company wanted to go the other direction though. No more casual players, just a smaller, more focused crew. Which is great, but not a fit for me anymore. 

My loving wife supported me with some trepidation when I joined. She feared how much I'd be gone. I tried to pacify her, but four years later, I can't say she was wrong. Anywhere from 8 to 12 days each month were Bull Skit nights. Rehearsals, workshops, performances. It added up. Friends and family take a step back as you either don't have the time or the energy to maintain those relationships properly. Of course, as stand up pulled me in, things got even worse. This last year, things came to a head. I was doing 2-4 stand up sets a month, and was involved in over half of Bull Skits programming. I was barely home, and things were getting harder to juggle. I wasn't there for my wife and kids, and I wasn't developing in stand up as quickly as I could, nor was Bull Skit getting my full attention anymore. 

So I had to make a choice. 

Bull Skit has been a great experience. Working with them has changed who I am and taught me I'm capable of so much more than I ever thought. The people are all awesome from the director to the volunteers. I appreciate everything, but I'm excited about the next chapter. 

I've already had a good summer with the fam. I hit a point where I was so used to being away that being home was uncomfortable. That is going away. Turns out we like hanging out with each other!

The next chapter also involves a ton of stand up. The room I book in Penhold fires back up in September, and I'm going to be much more active in Alberta's scene. Edmonton and Calgary are just over an hour away, so it's easy to hit either town to increase my visibility in important rooms. I also have hopes for what the Red Deer area scene can become, and I want to do my part in building that. I'm not too goal-oriented right now, I mainly just want to get better, braver, have more visibility and enjoy the process.

And even with my big plans, I should still be about half as busy as I was. Which sounds amazing.

Here's to the next thing,

B

Daddy Day & Big Time Shows

This past weekend was a massive one for me, personally and "professionally". Spoilers: This is going to be a long one.

Sunday was Father's Day, and I was able to decompress from a big few weeks and really connect with my three kids. I have realized that I tend to be guilty of tunnel vision when it comes to my comedy. Anything that isn't that thing tends to get shoved aside a little. It's something I'm working on, but at least for on Sunday, I was able to put the previous night in the rear view and let nothing steal my energy and attention from my family. I had to work, but after, we had some burgers and went to a movie. After the show, I made an effort to have a few private moments with each kid, making sure they know how much I love them and how proud I am of them every day, even if I'm not always the most present dad. Even writing this now, I'm getting a little misty. They are so great.

Bear is fourteen now, and is so fearlessly independent. I've never seen so much sense of self in someone that age. He's a bit moody and distant sometimes, but, fourteen. That'll happen. The fact that he is willing to spend any time with the family at all is wonderful.

Bug is eleven now. She's had some social issues in school this year, but middle school has never been easy. She's so thoughtful and really wants everyone to be ok. Hugs from Bugs are the best hugs.

Mr. C just turned eight. I'll admit, he just hasn't gotten as much hands-on attention as the older two received at the same age. It shows a bit, as he's had focus issues and isn't doing as well at school. I know I need to buckle down and spend more time reading with him, and limiting his screen time. He's so charming, kind and sensitive, and I want to work harder to help him become the best person he can be.

They are so great in fact, that I've often told myself that they are fine if I'm too busy or distracted to give them much of my full attention. And along those lines, part of why they are such great kids is that for the first half of their lives, I gave them so much more. I want to get back to that with them. My family is my main source of my comedy, because they really are my world. The best reward for my awesome Saturday night was some great moments with my crew.

Why was my Saturday so awesome? Mostly because I did a show that leveled up my comedy "career" in almost every possible way.

One of Canada's best comedians, Simon King messaged me out of the blue about putting a show together at The Penholder Tavern. I had never met him, but had tons of respect for both his smart and intense comedy, and his tremendous resume.

To this point, all the shows I've produced have been free with donation. But because Simon was travelling in from Vancouver, and was looking to do over an hour, something this special had to be a ticketed event. I had been looking to try a ticketed show anyway, so getting to attempt it with someone like Simon was a no-brainer. He also asked if I'd like to open for him, despite probably having little info about how I am as a comic. He said I could do twenty five minutes, which freaked me out. I fought the urge to say "why?" and went with "definitely!"

I've only done more than ten minutes a couple of times, and have done so many five and seven minute spots that anything close to that length was terrifying. So I brought in my comedy hetero-life partner Zachary Landry to host and to take some of that time off of my shaky hands.

So now I'm heading into a show with some high stakes. Biggest name I've ever worked with. Longest set I've attempted. Promoting a show that's not free. I knew if things didn't pan out it wouldn't be the end of anything, just another lesson, but I really wanted to pull this off. I knew that no matter how my set went, that Simon would have the crowd leaving happy. I just had to get the crowd in the room in the first place. I wanted to make Simon happy that he took the chance to reach out to me.

Sales started slow, but we sold the place out. I was scrambling last minute to add tables and chairs for everyone, and we were standing room only for the last six walk ups.

So that part went great. Now it was show time. On all of my shows in Penhold, I spend so much mental energy making sure the show isn't a disaster that I barely get to worry about what I'm going to do up there. This time, that was liberating! One of the biggest flaws I've had as a comedian is that I would just plow through my material like a joke robot.

"these are my jokes. please enjoy my humour..."

But this time I kept things loose, I stayed in the moment and let the crowd dictate where my set went. I ended up doing almost twenty minutes, and at least two-thirds of it was decent. It was almost a bit too loose and sloppy for a "pro middle" set, but the most important thing is that I had a blast, and the crowd seemed to as well. I know that not every room will be as forgiving as my "home club", but I gained a lot of confidence that I can handle more time and am ready to keep doing those longer sets.

Of course, as predicted, Simon King blew the roof off and everyone's minds. He went almost ninety minutes, which if you've seen him, means he told over three hours of jokes. I knew he was a great comedian, but it was also great just to meet him and to spend time with the guy. He was gracious and easy to work with every step of the way. He also treated Zachary and myself like peers, even though the two of us would never put ourselves in the same sphere as Simon. We all had a couple of chances to share a drink and talk shop, (with a surprise appearance by Andrew Albert, who I am also looking forward to working with) and those moments were as educational and rewarding as the show itself was.

Simon was very complimentary about the whole thing, and wants to do more together, which I'm excited about. Everything was a massive win, and has me so motivated to keep grinding. The work I've put in to build the Penholder room has been totally worth it. The people I've met and the things I've learned are only fueling the fire to do more. My biggest challenge now is not to get too ahead of myself. Things won't blow up overnight. I know that, so I'm just going to keep my head down and keep learning. I'm just enjoying the ride so far.

Keeping with the Father's Day theme, the best side-effect about the whole Penhold experience has been how it's changed my relationship with my dad. He put the feelers out to the bar owner in the first place to get things rolling. He had never seen me do stand up at that point. Just blind faith in his boy. Fast forward six months and five shows, and he's had as much fun in that room as anyone else. He's meeting my friends and fellow comics, and telling anyone in the bar who'll listen how proud he is. He and I weren't in a great place when I was younger, but I know now that at least some of that was him seeing me looking lost, trying to find me jobs, only to have me struggle and get fired time and time again. He just wanted me to find my thing.

I think I finally have, and having him be part of that makes it even better.

I love you dad. Happy Father's Day.

B

Chapter Two of Bradley's Comedy Adventure: What I've learned so far.

Hi good reader. I hope you enjoy this post, but to be honest, I just need to to get my head straight after the biggest few weeks of whatever you can call my comedy "career", 

If we cut straight to the facts, I'm 0-2 on major comedy contests, and the last show I produced was the least attended so far. This has taught me that stand up is really hard, not immediately (if ever) profitable, and an emotional roller coaster.

On the other hand, those "failures" were all very fun and educational, with some of the best moments and biggest laughs I've had so far.

I looked back, and I audio-recorded my first set in August 2017. I really thought it had been longer than that. I consider this the start of "Chapter 1" of my time in comedy. Anything before that is prologue, because I was really just dabbling. Stand up was something I'd do once every month or two, just often enough to feel like I was doing "it". Once I started recording myself, and more importantly, listening to and learning from those sets, it got real. I had intention and motivation to be better.  There are 30 sets on my phone since then, and probably at least 5 that I didn't record.

I've been pushing myself since then. Taking gigs out of town. Writing new stuff and honing and polishing the best of it. Hosting shows, and eventually producing my own show. Last but not least, I entered a couple of big contests that would show me where I stood against other comics at roughly the same experience level as me.

My contest sets, despite being some of the best ones I've had so far, didn't get me past the first rounds. I realized that, despite all the growth I've had, that I was just another amateur in the scene. I wasn't some undeniable talent that was ready for bigger chances. I'm not at the bottom of the pile, but there are dozens of people in this province that are further along than me. That was...humbling.

I realized that these contests were the end of Chapter 1 of this journey. Everything I've spent the last year working on was at least partially to show well at them. To determine if I have a future at this, or if I'm fooling myself.

I'm still trying to figure out what the answer is to that. I did OK, and I've come a long way so far. I'm a lazy writer, but I feel good about my ability to find the funny in a premise and distill it down to a solid bit. As a performer though, I have a long way to go. I haven't found my "voice" yet. My personal delivery style that will maximize laughs. I'm reasonably proud of my stuff, but I'm not selling that to the crowd.

That much I've figured out. The thing I'm struggling with now is, "Now what are you going to do about it?" After my Edmonton contest, the headliner Sterling Scott dropped a great piece of advice for all of us who were stinging from defeat. "You didn't start doing comedy just to win this contest. Don't let tonight define you. Let it REFINE you." I get where he's coming from, but it's been really difficult figuring out what that means for me.

Do I scrap what I've got so far and completely change direction, or do I lean into what's working and tweak the rest? Do I keep my delivery dry and slightly smug, or do I get more animated? Am I putting enough of "me" into this? Being fearless and honest with what I want to say? Am I overthinking all of this and forgetting to have fun?

I either don't know or don't like the answers to those right now.

If I've learned anything so far, (and the more I learn the more I realize I know nothing), it's that "talent" is a fraction of what it takes to do this well. It's not really about who the funniest person is at my level right now. It's about the person who kept their head down and pushed for 5, 10 or even 15 years. Grinding it out. Taking risks. Staying confident while always striving to improve. The folks who love the craft of it all. Because there are no promises in show business. It's not a meritocracy, even though artists always wish it was. It's who's hustling, and who's making it about the process instead of the always-elusive destination.

I'm not a patient guy, but there's no shortcuts for this. There's a very real chance that I could come back every year for the next 5 and never win one of those contests. But that's the point. I can't make that the goal. The only way to do this "right", is to only compare me to me. To tackle those questions above and come out the other side stronger and more confident in who I am as a comedian.

I haven't won a damn thing yet, but I haven't failed until I quit.

I'm not ready to stop yet. Bring on Chapter 2...

B