I'd been looking forward to tonight's gig all week. It was my biggest spot-length to date. As touched on earlier this week, life-wise it's been a challenging week that made writing, editing, learning, rewriting, editing and re-learning the material even more difficult. I really could've done with another week, but you know, it was a 20 and I knew I was ready.
I've increasingly stepped away from nights that I just don't think are worth it in pursuit of the longer spots I believe I merit, and I'd had two good gigs this week, especially last night's show in Camberwell.
Sales for tonight's show were poor. That was made clear as soon as I walked in, at which point the issue was, well, clearly, I can't do the 20 tonight. There’s six people in the audience. Doing a 20 makes no sense.
The front room this week had effectively become a war room. I learned the new stuff in chunks then bullet pointed a single line from each segment in a black marker onto an A3 piece of paper blue-tacked to the wall. Every time a new edit was done, a new A3 sheet went up, so I was as ready as I was ever going to be in a week that had exacerbated the regular insomnia. Last night was particularly bad for sleep. I’m so full on during the days that at night is the only time I get to do things for pleasure if I’m not gigging. I attack the books, I’ll listen to some history, paranormal or boxing podcast and this week, with all the drama of the Eubank – Benn fight falling apart over the latter’s failed drugs test, there’s been plenty of stuff relating to that to catch up with on YouTube. Of course, I should be trying to sleep instead, but trying to sleep rarely equals sleep for me.
Drained all day, I took myself off for a very unintentionally slow 5k in the late afternoon, rehearsing the 20 effortlessly. I was confident. Sure, I’d had to learn the set in a week full of interruptions, but I’d set my mind to it and done it. Tonight, I was determined to slow down slightly on stage. Even when doing well this week, there have been times when I’ve been a little too hurried, but I do worry when I’ve felt so run down that if I slow down, I might forget my next line. It happens to me all the time away from the stage.
I took some budget coke with me as a pick me up. I never drink the stuff, keeping it in the flat only for when my great writer friend The Space Daddy turns up. He loves his full fat coke. And being a writer, he can understand when it’s just the budget stuff.
I was opening tonight. I'm not an opener, at least not right now. When I saw the running order a few days ago, that did unsettle me sightly and what I’ve learned tonight is if that happens again, I need to be up front with the promoter. They did have video clips from me, and I know they’ve seen me, but I’m not sure how you decide from those my style is suited to opening. It isn’t.
Seeing how poor the turnout was tonight, another more experienced comic, a very funny and engaging act who did very well tonight and is something of a wordsmith himself, he told me there was no way he was doing a 20. Bowing to his greater experience, and rightly so, I dropped my first 7-8 minutes, just minutes before going on. While it usually does well, it can lose me a quiet room, and I figured I'd try and roll with the newer set which has been doing really well and which I've built up and honed.
I also had brand new material in there but by the time I went up to open, the usual clear headedness had gone. The other comic had said before things were underway the night was shaping up to be a car crash. My spot certainly was. I went for it up to a point, despite little response from the audience and then the situation, the tiredness and the fact that a week, right through to today, of intense preparation nailing down the 20 had come to nothing, saw me turn in a poor performance. Sure, it wasn't a good night audience wise. And yes, I'm not an opener. But I still need to own the bad performance just 24 hours after a very good night. And I’m doing that. It's just the bad performances can linger for longer. That bothers me.
I then sat through the other act playing a blinder. It can be difficult and adds to your humiliation but at the same time, he’s very good, very funny, a decent guy and told me not to read too much into tonight because of the circumstances. He’s seen me before. I appreciated those words.
It was my worst gig in months. While I've now done over 100 shows, it'll probably be another 100 before I can work an audience in this situation. I'm not a chatty comic. I'm low-energy, thoughtful, as the lovely, genuinely, owner told me tonight. And really, you don’t want me opening your show.
So tonight, the confidence took a hit. I didn't take my small fee from the venue, as much as I needed it, and it would've covered tonight’s travel, or better still, coffee and breakfast tomorrow in the café. And I turned up, did my bit, pushed the show and promoted it online more than most, but the fee was minimal, my performance wasn't good (though a fee is a fee), though to be fair to myself, they hadn't made it easy for me tonight.
I'm nearly home. I'm going to indulge in some cereal and yoghurt and then cram in a game of Star Wars Football. Fading champions Bespin need to beat out of form Apex Overlook to retain a mathematical chance of retaining their title, at least until Hoth play on Sunday.
Tomorrow is another day. I have two gigs on Monday to rebuild the confidence after the 20 that never was tonight.
It’s been a disappointing end to a tiring week and brought back memories of gigging in the early noughties when I had too many nights like these, but I'm good enough to know I can recover. It’s normal to doubt yourself.
Update.
Too tired for Star Wars football. That game will now take place tomorrow in what will be a busy weekend for the game.
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