When I started doing standup comedy, I was terrified that people wouldn't think I was funny. I wanted to have the perfect set written that would guarantee laughs. I have worked so hard since then to make sure that what I write is polished and relatively presentable before I even take it to an open mic. Fear has driven so much of my comedy adventure. This fear is what led me to a comedy class in NYC.
The first time I told a funny story in class, people laughed. It felt good. After our graduation show, after hearing a room full of strangers laugh at jokes I had carefully polished over a period of 6 weeks, I was hooked. I wanted to do that more. But here I am...8 months later. And I have realized something else.
I am sitting in my car, waiting for my son to finish coding class, working on a 5 minute set of jokes to present at the Open Mic for Women that I now host monthly. And to be honest, I don't really like the jokes. They are mine, I have written them, they are familiar to me, but I'm not even sure anyone else is going to think they're funny. I'm telling them to myself in the car, and I'm pretty sure the mom parked 2 spots over is concerned for my mental health. I should've put in ear buds so that it at least looks like I'm talking on the phone.
Today, I'm likely going to walk into my mic and read from my writing app, because that's where they are. And to be brutally honest, somewhere in this journey I had promised myself I would never read my material from a notebook at a mic. I was so delusional. The jokes aren't memorized, they're not perfected, they're raw. And I'm reminded of what I say to everyone at the start of my mic: It's ok to fail here. I give everyone permission in the beginning, because I know as a type-A person, sometimes even I need to hear it. Sometimes I need some one to just say to me, "It's ok if this doesn't work, you'll get it next time." And today, I need to give myself permission to fail.
We talked about this a lot in comedy class, and I think it is true of life as well. Sometimes, we have to just give ourselves permission to fail. We have to be ready to fall, scrape a knee, and get back up with a bandaid on. That's how you learn. That's how you grow. I originally titled this Blog, "Afraid to Fail," because I thought I was going to write about the fear of failing. Halfway through writing, I changed the 1st word to "Permission." And so today, I give myself permission to fail. What would happen if you gave yourself permission to fail today? What chance would you take?
Take it!
Megan
Comments