Newsletter: Diagnosis / Evolution
This month is all pre-festival jitters combined with Ritalin.
The Notes in My Phone
Sometimes the notes for future jokes in my phone are just ‘Remember Fruche?’ It inspired me to see if it was still around and I got this description from their website: ‘frûche is a soft, spoon hugging traditional European style fromage frais.’ I wondered if anything has every been described so eloquently. I want the copywriter to get a promotion. It’s way better than my attempt of: ‘fancy yoghurt for mums.’
I have a trauma response to curtains being opened. When I was kid it represented cartoons being over and time to do stuff. If I hear curtain rings along a rod, I can only assume it’s time to do chores.
Decision fatigue is brutal. I invited my brothers to see The Streets on the weekend. It was a lot of fun but was utterly exhausted by making all the decisions. How should we get there? Where to park? Where to eat? Should I move the car? Does this look like egg to you? I can't eat egg. Should we get beers before? Should we get beers after? I'm pretty sure it's egg. Should I tell the waiter?
It was just natural to eat something ‘on the edge’ growing up. We weren’t going to waste something because it had a bit of a slime sheen. Sure the ham wasn’t holographic yesterday but this just makes it more special. This is rare ham. The Charizard of ham. I should be able to trade this at school… for a better lunch.
Past Me / Present Me / Future Me
Past Me is annoying because he’s always giving Present Me jobs to do. Present Me wants Future Me to do them but somehow it’s always Present Me that always ends up doing it.
I’m proud of Past Me’s accomplishments but they’re never around to celebrate them with Present Me. Future Me is the one that always gets the most benefit of all the things that Past Me and Present Me do. I’m still waiting on Future Me to thank us.
Past Me seems to just think about others. Present Me is just thinking about themselves. Future Me has a hoverboard and a laser gun.
“What Took You So Long?”
I got diagnosed for ADHD last week. It was a short appointment. Maybe a little lacking on the holistic side that some psychiatrists might provide.
I was just keen to get it done. The more hoops, the more I would kick this challenge down the road. After years of procrastination I decided to finally book an appointment and they booked me in that same week. I couldn’t believe it.
After twenty minutes of questions, the doctor seemed very confident with his diagnosis and asked me: “What took you so long?”
What do you think? Maybe the ADHD that you have just diagnosed me with?
The Evolution of a Show
The challenge of a show is that it’s with you for so long from conception to touring that you’re a different person to the person who started it.
I had a great time at the Adelaide Fringe and now my mission is to listen back to the recordings and work out what the next version will look like at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.
Even though the show went well, there’s always room for improvement. Any comedian will tell you that the show on night one of the tour is totally different to the show at the other end. Dozens of shows for someone like me. More than a hundred times for the big shots.
Sometimes it’s tweaks and adjustments. Sometimes there’s a temptation to throw everything out and start over. Am I doing the show that I set out to do? Am I telling the story that I wanted to tell?
Some edits will naturally happen on stage. I call these ‘evolution edits’ or ‘survival of the fittest’ where the best bits will come to the forefront and the rest will leave the genepool. But in order to make dramatic changes, you need to do some proper genetic engineering. Ask the tough questions: ‘Was this joke ever strong enough? Could the narrative be clearer? Should I cut this whole chunk? Does it need to be deeper? Darker? Sillier?
You have to wade out into the genepool to determine if the show is strong enough to survive all the challenges that festival season will throw at it.
What I’m saying is, I have some editing to do. I have to go away and listen back to giggles, chuckles, laughs, and… silence. Wish me luck.
Festivals Are Nerve-Wracking
This week the Melbourne Comedy Festival office sent out an email reminding artists to take care of themselves during and in the lead-up to the festival. To give you a sense of just how difficult it can get for artists, the e-mail included a link to lifeline and beyondblue.
It might feel a bit dramatic to provide comedians with the contact details to crisis support but I get it! I have to constantly remind myself that all this is supposed to be fun while also putting so much of my mental energy into simultaneously writing and selling a show. It gives your whole nervous system a daily workout.
I’m in a battle between logic and emotion.
For example, I put up an ad for my show that gets a handful of Likes and I think, “Why am I doing this? No one cares.”
But then logic steps in to say, “What about all the people that have seen your work in the past and loved it? What about the crowds of people that have encouraged you across the years?”
But then here’s emotion again to point out, “Seven likes? I’m bombing on instagram.”
Logic comes back in. “You’re relying on the algorithm for your own well-being. Put the work in now to look after Future Marcel. Go and write your newsletter. You enjoy that. It has hundreds of subscribers and about 60% of people open it. That’s pretty good. That’s heaps of people that give a shit. Then get back to work on marketing and writing.”
I’m telling myself this and I’m telling the festival artists reading this, remember that festivals are draining but they’re supposed to be fun. It can be difficult to remain the required amount of present to enjoy it rather than just enduring it. Give it a read hot go. You’ve spent thousands of dollars, you may as well try.
Improv Pet-Peeves: Just Leave
Every month I discuss an element of comedy that irritates my pedantic brain. Today we’re talking improv!
Every improviser has been in a tricky scene. There’s no vibe between players and no one knows what’s happening or where it’s going. There are several tools that improvisers can implement to save a scene but there’s one that so many of them overlook.
Just leave.
Go away. Exit. Leave the scene and see what happens to the remaining characters. It’s useful for so many reasons. It gives the person who left a chance to catch their breath. They also get to watch the scene from side stage and see the effect their absence has on the other characters. What do they say and how do they behave when the other person isn’t around?
Say you’re in a scene where you are both cowboys on a ranch. You’ve been talking about your favourite horses and who’s a better rider for the last few minutes and it isn’t going anywhere. They haven’t established a relationship beyond “cowboy buddies” and they have very little to build from. One of the cowboys tells the other that he has to go collect some hay leaving the other on stage alone. This cowboy starts brushing one of the horses. He confides in the horse: “How am I going to tell Jeremy that his favourite horse is dying?”
This player has now created a meaty offer for a character that isn’t even on stage but the player off-stage has heard the whole thing and so has the audience. They can now re-enter the scene and have this new information providing a lot more emotional weight to the scene.
“I can’t wait to race my horse for his birthday weekend,” Jeremy says as he drags in a hay bale.
“Yeah, about that… what sort of cake do you think he’d like?”
Suddenly a boring scene is a whole lot more compelling because one of the players had the guts to get the hell out.
It can seem counter-intuitive in an art-form that is designed around team work but often the best thing you can do is get out of the way.
The Comedy Writers Group: March Update
We have hit 155 members! This month we’ve had loads of our members going to through to semi sand state finals of Raw Comedy. We even had one of our members, Suma, win the ACT final. She’s going through to the big one at the Melbourne Town Hall!
What is The Comedy Writers Group? The CWG is a community of comedians from around Australia. We have five online meet-ups a month ranging from workshop sessions, Q & As, and group writing time. At our workshops we’re joined by special guest professional comedians who help guide and mentor our participants.
You can sign up for just the podcast for $5 per month or attend all the workshops for $10.
“Could not have done such a polished set without this group. Its such a great thing to be part of, and it is no coincidence that so many of us make Raw finals” - Suma
See Me Live
Melbourne Comedy Festival starts on March 30th! Book for Let Me Eat Cake and The Newlyweds. Please tell your Victorian friends!
Tickets are now on sale for my show at Sydney Comedy Festival too. Would love if you book early and help my nervous system. The show is going to superbly polished by then.
Recommendations
Here’s some stuff I’ve been enjoying lately.
Listen: I adored Ray Winstone on Off Menu. Hearing him talk about his favourite foods in that accent was an absolute treat.
Watch: The movie of the month was Terms of Endearment. I had always heard it was a must-see but knew so little about it. I thought the title sounded so boring. It turns out that it’s a brilliant film and I don’t want to give anything away but go watch it and get back to me.
Read: Currently reading James Acaster’s Perfect Sound Whatever. The main thesis of the book is that he argues that best year in music was 2016. It has lead to me checking out a lot of great artists that I’ve never heard of. I’ll get back to you with my review.