So I've hit a major brick wall. A brick wall that seems to want to stay for a while. I'm at a point in my comedy career where I'm too good to be doing 5 minutes of unpaid open mic spots in front of 73 comedians and 1 audience member falling asleep in the back row. But I'm not good enough to say I'm a full time professional comic. I'm stuck right in the middle. I'm like that weirdo James Franco in the film where his arm is stuck between two rocks. Helpless. Frustrated. Hungry. .. In the end he cuts his arm off with a blunt Stanly knife. I'm starting to feel like I'll have to do that same if I stay in this situation for much longer.
I'm currently writing a whole new hour of material in preparation for next year's Edinburgh festival. But I have as much motivation as a tramp on heroin. I spend most days staring at blank sheets of paper conjuring up funny tales I could share with an audience of strangers. Making sure it's good enough for them to not walk out or think I'm clinically insane. But this IS making my clinically insane. I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Same thing, day after day after day after day. Not getting anywhere. Getting to the point where all I'm thinking of how can I end it all - in the most fun way possible. At least Andy McDowell isn't around.
Going to the open mic nights to try out a half written rubbish first draft joke is the worst thing ever. No confidence in what you are saying. Standing there, wondering how you even got in that position in the first place. Hoping someone, anyone will roar, laugh, chuckle, hey, even titter at your bizarre way of thinking. But first time it doesn't usually happen. There is the practice, the editing, the thinking, the changing, the memorizing, the re-writing and the linking that's to come. Gee- wiz its hard work. I feel like Bruce Willis in Die Hard. 3. Experiencing very hard work. With a hangover.
So until I get to be the comic I want to be - paid and recognized, I'll just keep at it. Maybe the brick wall will come down. Maybe the motivation will return. Maybe I'll stop comparing everything to movies. Until then I'll just be a bit like our old friend Miss Garland and keep going down that yellow brick road until I meet up with the wonderful agent of comedy where he can take me to where I want to be. Paid and recognized.