I write. Therefore, I write.
Whatever the thoughts on this, at least I'm off the mark, doing this writing exercise, writing even though I have nothing to say. I need to put in the effort.
At least writing can be done working from home, something stand-up comedy could never be. I like writing but have never found anything that interests me so much I want to write about it. Even comedy, even the gigs, and especially the people who come to watch me. The people, I love them and love them a little less simultaneously. They are comedy's lifeblood and the vampire that sucks it out of you all rolled into one. When they are into what I do on stage, I feel like I'm surfing; words come easy, and jokes appear out of nowhere. When they aren't into my act, it's hell; every minute is like an hour, and the mind stutters and, in the worst case, stops functioning. The mind races and opens all the drawers, trying to find jokes and anecdotes of years gone by to help retrieve the situation; sometimes, defeat has to be accepted. Then comes the inquest: was it my material? The delivery? Timing? Something I said? The way I look? my clothes? The inquest usually goes on all night in my mind as I foolishly try and find sleep.
Why do I still perform comedy at my age? I have no answer to that. Is it because I've been doing it for so many years that it has become an addiction? It would be much easier if I stopped, gave up, and started something new, so why don't I? I hate to admit it, but I would miss the attention. However low in the ratings, there is always a tiny form of celebrity.
At this moment, I envisage myself as an author, a writer, a columnist or whatever comes. Do I have the talent? I will only know once I try.
I do a daily podcast, so why not do daily writing as well. Fear the criticism and do it anyway.
So here it begins.
