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SALT LAKE CITY — I figured out from a very early age that it was fun to be the funny girl. I liked it better than trying to be the popular girl, or the smartest girl, or the prettiest girl and for the most part, being the funny girl came naturally. In high school, I wanted to be the girl in class who would sit back, observe and then throw out a one-liner that made everybody laugh — a teacher's real dream student. (However, don’t get me wrong, my teenage years weren’t all jokes and laughter. There were many angst-filled moments that I believed only The Backstreet Boys understood.)
When I left Provo, Utah, to attend New York University, I thought I wanted to perform, but studying acting was terrifying. The drama students were way too comfortable with their emotions. Not me. I was too introverted which, I know, doesn’t make a lot of sense since I wanted to perform. I don’t consider myself a risk taker, and acting and singing anything but a joke felt risky. As a result, I gave up my performing dream and decided to write. Writing was exciting, and I was in control of it.
I graduated from NYU and not once did it occur to me that I could be a stand-up comedian. It wasn't until I scored a job at "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" that stand-up became an option. Many of the writers there were also stand-up comedians. One night, I went to a show in New York City’s Lower East Side, where several of my co-workers, including my boss (not Jon Stewart in case you went there) were performing. I remember sitting in the audience listening and aching to be on stage. I saw what they were doing. Set up, punch line, set up, punch line. They were just telling the jokes they wrote out loud. I could do that!
Months later, I went to my same boss’s stand-up show at a popular comedy club. He knew I was dabbling in stand-up and basically pushed me on stage to perform a five-minute set. So my first real show in New York City was at a packed comedy club with a group of stand-up comedians who had "Comedy Central" specials, performed on late night talk shows and wrote for "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart."
No pressure, right? I honestly cannot remember anything I said on stage except my opening line, which was "I'll give you a second for your eyes to adjust to my hair." (I'm a platinum blond.) Get it? Get it? From that point on, I have no recollection of what happened. That night my boss expressed how proud he was of me. I was sure he meant embarrassed. Looking back on it now, he knew my jokes would be rough but I wasn’t afraid to try and in the beginning getting on stage is half the battle.
Part of me wishes I could see that first performance and the other part of me thinks my brain blocked it out for a reason. All I know is, after that show I went home both horrified and excited. I called my mom, told her I loved stand-up and that I couldn't wait to try it again. From then on, it was smooth sailing.
Oh wait, no it wasn't. It didn't get any easier from there. It got harder. For about six months, I struggled to get on stage at open mics because of nerves. Bombing wasn’t (and still isn’t) fun.
At a comedy show, people expect a comedian to be funny. Around the water cooler at work, people just want to be distracted from their job. The expectations are completely different the second I stand on stage.
–- Jenna Kim jones
Here’s what a typical open mic looks like: Imagine a small dark room filled with about 10-15 other comedians there to work out their jokes on stage. There’s no real audience — just other comedians staring, judging and not laughing. I would panic before open mics and try to convince myself to back out.
Over time my paralyzing fear slowly turned into the nervous excitement one might feel before getting on a roller coaster (that analogy would work better if I didn’t hate roller coasters). As I grew more confident on stage, it was easier to write better jokes. The more confident I felt about my jokes, the more controlled my performances were and the more control I was in, the more fun stand-up comedy became.
If I might take back a phrase from Charlie Sheen, at this point in my career, getting on stage and telling jokes feels like “winning.”
At a comedy show, people expect a comedian to be funny. Around the water cooler at work, people just want to be distracted from their job. The expectations are completely different the second I stand on stage. The stories told at work or at church or at dinner with a couple of friends may not go as well under the spotlight. The audience might not laugh as hard (or at all). It doesn’t mean I’m not funny, it just means I have to work a little harder for it. Whatever a comedian’s writing and performing process might be, stand-up comedy is a skill that, like a muscle, needs a lot of exercise.
Every joke I tell is my own. If the audience doesn’t like it, it’s my fault. (Occasionally it’s the audience’s fault, but that’s rarely the case when a stand-up is just starting out.) Taking responsibility for my jokes sounds like a lot of pressure. But in my opinion having that kind of accountability is comforting because when the opposite happens and a joke works, I get all the credit.
It’s in those victorious moments that I realize all the painful open mics and failed jokes led to better jokes and bigger laughs. I had to understand the pain to really enjoy the success. That opposition makes for an amazing and worthwhile payoff.
Oftentimes when I tell people I’m a stand-up comedian, the first question they ask after insisting I tell a joke (so awkward) is, “How did you know you wanted to be a comedian?” I didn’t know I wanted to be a comedian until I tried. Besides the nerves and the failed jokes and that horribly embarrassing opening line about my hair, performing stand-up was one of the top three best decisions I ever made. (The other two are marrying my husband and attending the New Kids on the Block/Backstreet Boys reunion tour last year.)
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If you enjoyed this article and are interested in learning more about stand-up comedy, I’ll be writing Comedy Life twice a month and am happy to answer any questions in it that you might have … about comedy. Info about relationships, parenting, gardening or any other kind of advice will cost extra.
Jenna Kim Jones is a stand-up comedian and writer living in Los Angeles. Follow her on Twitter (@jennakimjones). Visit her website at www.jennakimjones.com and her blog at www.jennakimjones.tumblr.com. E-mail: jkj@jennakimjones.com
