Radiators & Drains

The story behind my unexpected foray into stand-up comedy

Photo by Allie Reefer on Unsplash

Hi, friends, and welcome new subscribers! I’m so glad you’re here.

After I sent last month’s newsletter, several people wished me good luck on my Galentine’s comedy show at The Vintage Tea Parlour in Staten Island. (Tea houses: where all the big names in comedy get their start!)

My eyeglasses are part of my act…

Thank you again to everyone who reached out to offer their support. The show was a lot of fun. By the end of the night, my cheeks hurt from laughing. (If you’re in NJ, catch our fabulous headliners, Liz Glazer and Nancy O’Connor, at SOPAC on March 27. I’ll be in the audience cheering them on.)

I also had a few people — especially those who know I’ve had a lifelong fear of public speaking — ask what made me decide to try this. So I thought I’d share the backstory.

Last winter, I found myself in an unpleasant professional relationship that crushed me creatively. Funny enough, I’d started the year by setting an intention to avoid negativity. The irony!

I came away from each interaction with this person discouraged not only about my writing ability but also my judgement when it came to selecting people to champion my work.

My mom is a big fan of the Eleanor Roosevelt quote, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Had I given this person consent to make me feel unqualified to write a simple thank you note? Sort of.

Over time, I allowed bad patterns to take root. In the spirit of being “open to feedback,” I didn’t defend my work when this person made blisteringly harsh comments that weren’t constructive nor collaborative. My silence seemed to open the floodgates to more criticism, which only left me looking around my home like, “Is anyone else hearing this?” Not since encounters with nuns from my elementary school had anyone been so direct in her attempts to destroy my self-esteem.

My pal Jo Bloom, author of Permission, once shared that a friend told her people are either radiators or drains. Surround yourself with radiators, she advised.

I’ve thought about that a lot — notably when this relationship was draining me to the point of empty.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when a person complains about a situation but does nothing to change it. As my supposed partnership went downhill, I whined to family and writer friends. While they were sympathetic, I could sense them biting their tongues not to say, “Then do something about it!”

Finally, I took Lizzo’s powerful words to heart and decided to boss up and change my life.

I ended the relationship. Yet even as a lightness settled over me after I sent my “I’m going in a different direction” email, it had taken such a toll that I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue writing—at least not anything long-form like a novel.

Weeks passed and I worked on freelance pieces (for the places that haven’t laid off editors and writers and replaced them with ChatGPT … for a hilarious take on AI, please read my friend

Julie Vick

’s latest McSweeney’s piece.) Beyond that, I was at a creative standstill.

Then I thought, “If I stop doing this thing I’ve loved since I was old enough to hold a pencil, then aren’t I allowing this person who’d already taken so much from me to rob me of even more?”

Still, I didn’t want to start a new project. But without a creative outlet, I felt a void.

Enter comedy! For twenty-five years, I’ve driven past a bar with a banner outside that read: Stand-Up Comedy Classes Starting Soon! Enroll now!

I always wondered who were these brave souls who could shed their public speaking fears, write jokes, and then remember them well enough to stand up and try to make a bunch of strangers laugh? It was time to find out. Maybe a different type of writing would catapult me out of my funk, I reasoned. Also, I wanted to at least attempt to conquer my fear of addressing more than three people simultaneously. I enrolled.

To force myself to really show up both physically and on the page, I threw my hat in the ring for the comedy night at the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop I attended last spring. I figured if my name was selected, I’d better have a bit of practice under my belt. Spoiler: when someone dropped out, I was next on the waiting list, and, oof, was I glad I didn’t go up there cold.

The comedy class was fun but daunting. The teacher was kind and quick-thinking, punching up our jokes on the fly. Soon we all joined in, offering our thoughts on what could tighten a bit or elevate it. There’s a camaraderie in doing something scary together. I recently read an article that explained this is why couples on dating shows are forced to bungee jump off bridges or scale tall buildings suspended by ropes that appear as dependable as a pair of pantyhose. That shared adrenaline rush instantly binds you. As weeks passed, several of us stayed after class for the even-scarier open mic nights and cheered each other on. Radiators.

I took the class a second time and then the club, which had been in business for 57 years, closed. (I like to think there’s no connection between my performances and the fact that this establishment will soon be leveled to make way for senior living apartments.)

The thing I love about comedy is it’s immediate. (If you don’t count the hours you spend coming up with material and then practicing in front of your cats.)

People laugh or they don’t—either way, you get to sit down again minutes later. In writing and publishing, you’re often suspended in limbo for months, possibly even years, awaiting an acceptance or rejection. Also, with stand-up comedy, a lady in the corner laughs, a guy in the back doesn’t. You’re reminded that art is subjective.

Trying stand-up had been on my mind for a while. Several years ago, my family and I took a cruise in late December. A comedy club was among the ship’s many offerings, so one evening we attended the family-friendly show.

We went in ready to belly laugh despite being stuffed with Baked Alaska. But, sadly, the opener’s act focused on his divorce and how much he missed his child during the holiday season. Honest and authentic? Yes. Funny? Let’s just say there may have been more laughter aboard the Titanic. My children looked confused. “You dragged us away from the all-you-can-eat Jell-O bar and a napkin folding seminar on the Lido Deck for this??!”

I saw the comedian around the ship that week and each time I wanted to approach him and say something vaguely encouraging but still genuine like, “Hey, I admire you for pursuing your dream. It takes guts to get up there!”

But even as he was heading back to his cabin with a trough of baby back ribs and half a key lime pie, he looked miserable.

Perhaps I was high on endless servings of soft serve ice cream and the scent of sunscreen mixed with hand sanitizer, but I said to myself, “Maybe this could be my retirement plan? I don’t need to headline but surely I could come up with something amusing—or at least not make people cry?”

In light of inflation and most writing gigs going to robots (see above), I doubt I’ll be able to afford assisted living (certainly not the fancy pants enclave soon to be erected atop my comedy club graveyard) so maybe I’ll cruise the Atlantic, doling out one-liners about muster stations¹. “Muster? Who else thought they heard mustard? Where’s the ketchup station?”

Considering I’m struggling to remember a 10-minute set, I’m not sure I’ll make my cruise ship retirement dream a reality but I have to start somewhere, right? Here’s a clip so you can see how it’s going:

If you’re thinking of taking a comedy class, I highly recommend it. It pulled me out of my writing slump and I’m happy to report I’m about 65% less nervous when speaking in front of crowds now.

My friend Rose (Hi, Rose!) said she has always wanted to try comedy and asked if I knew of any online classes. I recommended

Caitlin Kunkel

’s upcoming workshop. I worked one-on-one with Caitlin on a book proposal and she’s a fantastic teacher. I’ve also heard great things about The LaughtHER Collective.

What I’m Reading

I haven’t been reading as much as I’d hoped to this month as I’ve been working on a longer project and trying to promote my romcom (more on that below) but I wanted to share some Substacks I enjoy:

kim windyka

’s Scenic Route took me to Key West. If you’re craving a virtual getaway, check out her swoon-worthy itinerary and stunning photos.

Michelle Gross’s

The Beau Yorker

explored how heartening it feels when creatives share a look at all the work that goes into a finished product.

In

Dan Blank

’s most recent The Creative Shift newsletter, he included an inspiring story about ZZ Top (a band that nearly made it into my routine as part of my “Thanks to this chilly winter, I’m finally appreciating my chin hair” bit.)

Week after week

Shelly Mazzanoble

’s hilarious and relatable musings on midlife make me snort-laugh and wonder if maybe she’s hidden a camera inside my home.

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Time for my obligatory cat photo followed by a shameless plug for my romcom. As always, thank you so much for reading!

Meet my test audience

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Countdown to Claire: I’d be thrilled if you considered pre-ordering

1. My family insists they have no memory of muster stations—designated spots where passengers meet in case of an emergency usually located near the lifeboats. Good thing we didn’t hit any icebergs!