but I did.
He knew I heard it and apologized. I feel that it's ok. It was bitchy and unnecessary but he's entitled to think that. He said he wasn't even that familiar with my comedy and I shouldn't take it to heart. Maybe that's the truth, but maybe he honestly felt my comedy was terrible. And that's still ok. Here's something I wrote in response to an interview about comedy that was never published:
Being a comedian is about failing and you won't be a good comedian if you are afraid to fail. Every time you get on stage you should give enough and try enough that there's the possibility of rejection and failure. Don't waste the time of your audience by giving them nothing. Work hard, put effort into your performances, experiment so that you can find something original. The only thing interesting is your original voice, and don't give the world something that they could hear out of someone else's mouth. The only way to find that voice is by taking yourself to uncomfortable places once in a while.
In my first stand up shows I read nervously off a piece of paper and knew it sucked but also knew I had to suck it up and get past my own shittiness if I wanted to progress.
Being told you are terrible by a talented peer is your worst nightmare in putting yourself out there, but it's also ok.
I think there's a lot to gain in life from failure, mostly in those moments where you are trying and exploring, not hiding and playing it safe.
I'm taking a lot of time and care to find what is not terrible inside me. My comic voice is always in development. If I'm not good enough yet, that's ok. I don't believe I'm terrible, but I do believe I can do better. And I'll always be working on that.