Avoiding Burnout in Standup
by Steph Dalwin
As intimidating as standup is, getting started is the easy part, oddly enough. Staying with standup once the shine wears off can be daunting. It’s especially difficult when you’re part of a group (or groups) that have historically been underrepresented in comedy. I’ve run into so many new comics who started with a class or a handful of open mics, but ultimately abandoned standup because it was understandably too unpleasant to keep going. What’s more, comics often feel pressure to prove themselves and stay relevant which can quickly become a toxic grind. So how do you how do you keep going with standup when after the initial excitement fades? How do you avoid burning out and feeling jaded? I don’t have a perfect formula, but here are a few things I’ve learned along the way.
Take breaks and invest in your life outside of comedy. I once attended a seminar with the great Jackie Kashian, who gave some advice that has never left me. In a nutshell, she said to have a life outside of comedy; it makes you and your material more interesting. When I first started standup, I thought I had to invest every possible minute of time into honing my craft. I felt like I would become irrelevant if I didn’t. And before long, standup became deeply unfun. I took time off, mostly out of necessity. Yet in those days and weeks off from comedy, I accumulated experiences that would eventually lay the groundwork for future material onstage. You are allowed to take time off from performing when you need it, no matter how often or how long those breaks may be. Your skills won’t atrophy, and standup will always be there when you get back – I promise.
It’s okay if this is “just” a hobby. It can seem like chasing fame is the only option. Many folks enter standup comedy with the hopes of a late-night TV spot or even a Netflix special. And many comics who are headlining locally want to make standup their full-time job. No matter where folks are in their journey, we’re expected to grind. We’re always looking for the next show, hashing out new material, worried that we’re not working hard enough. The hustle certainly works for some folks, and that’s okay. Yet it’s also okay if standup becomes just a hobby, even if you got into comedy hoping for something more. And if you’re a hobbyist, it’s perfectly acceptable to do standup on your own terms, whether that’s being selective with the opportunities you take or reducing the number of hours you get onstage.
It’s supposed to be fun. We as standup comics are in the business of making people laugh, and yet the comedy itself can be punishing. Especially in the beginning! Bombing onstage, agonizing over the perfect tag, and navigating the politics of a local scene are taxing. But at the end of the day, standup is something that most of us do in our spare time. Ideally, it’s a net positive rather than a source of stress. It sounds trite, but standup is supposed to be joyful. I have found it tremendously important to invest in ways to keep standup fun for myself: workshopping with friends I trust, going to mics and shows that I like, or even taking a break to focus on other hobbies.
Starting standup comedy is certainly intimidating, and staying in standup can be equally as difficult. It’s a cruel irony for an art form whose whole premise is laughter. Standup comedy has often been described to me as a “marathon, not a sprint.” However, I think a more appropriate reference to Greek mythology is that of Sisyphus: eternally pushing a boulder uphill, making it to the top, only to have to start at the bottom all over again. It’s easier to push the boulder at the start when we’re fresh and, dare I say, hopeful. But the key is knowing how to keep pushing even and especially when it becomes unpleasant. And unlike Sisyphus, we can put the rock down for a bit. The endgame is longevity, and it’s important to invest in ways to make standup manageable for you, whatever that looks like.
