Comedy and drag share the same secret: stage presence isn’t about ego. It’s about generosity. It’s saying, “You gave me your attention, and I’m going to make it worth it.”

Start thinking of yourself not just as a comedian—but as a comedy consultant. Your comedic talent isn’t just for the stage—it’s a toolkit that businesses, wedding parties, and overconfident executives desperately need.

Whether you’re a new comic staring at an open mic list or a seasoned pro rebuilding after a material purge, crafting a tight five from scratch can feel like trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the instructions—or the Allen wrench. So let’s fix that.

Let me guess: You crack a joke at dinner and your kids give you that look. You know the one. The “Wow, Dad, please stop” look.

Don’t let it fool you. You’re funnier than you think. Your family just has immunity—like comedy vaccine boosters.

So, you’ve fallen head over heels for stand-up comedy. You’ve stood under the harsh glow of a single spotlight, told jokes to five strangers (and two of them laughed!), and now your Notes app is a graveyard of punchlines and half-formed setups.

You’ve caught the bug. And now comes the next terrifying challenge: telling your family.

You might be too fabulous. You might be too interesting. You might have too many hilarious life stories that younger comics would kill for. But too old? Nah.

Let me tell you something right out of the gate: every crappy job you’ve ever had is a comedy goldmine. You may not realize it now, but one day you’ll look back and say, “That humiliation paid my rent in laughs.”

So you’ve decided to dive into stand-up comedy. Congrats, you delightful masochist! You’ve found the one profession where emotional trauma is a resume booster. And now you’re standing in the back of a dark open mic, nervously clutching a notebook filled with half-thoughts and doodles that may or may not be punchlines…

So what’s a quick-witted, stage-starved comic to do when the gigs dry up and the landlord doesn’t accept “exposure” as payment? Here's my guide to side hustles for comics who want to survive the slow seasons without selling their soul or their self-respect.

So let’s talk about it: Where do you post your avails, and how do you do it without feeling like a clingy ex with a mic?

You need headshots, reels, social media, a LinkedIn you never update—and yes, a website. Welcome to showbiz in the age of Wi-Fi, darling.

Look at you—mic in hand, dreams in heart, and a podcast name that’s probably a pun. I’m proud of you already.

If you’ve got a spark, a mic, and a little discipline (or at least a calendar reminder), go for it! A podcast doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to be you.

Merch isn’t just about making a few bucks—it’s about turning fans into superfans. And superfans? They wear your catchphrase to brunch.

If you’re feeling the icy grip of panic as you wait to grab the mic, congratulations — you’re alive, and you care. That fear is not the enemy. But letting it own you? That we’re not doing. Here's how to deal with stage fright like the professional funny person you're becoming.

So you’ve been crushing it on stage — killing open mics, owning bar shows, maybe even getting a few real fans who aren’t your mom or your roommate. Now you're eyeing Hollywood, thinking, “Hey, I’m funny. I should be on TV!”

If you're reading this, you're probably wondering how to get more than five minutes in the back of a pizza place at midnight. Well, buckle up, baby, because I’ve got the inside scoop.

The truth is: there’s no perfect answer. But if you’re smart, prepared, and passionate — it might be closer than you think.

Stand-up comedy is a bizzare career. It’s equal parts art, therapy, improv, and chaos with a mic. When you start, you think it’s all about being funny — and sure, that’s the goal. But along the way, you’ll discover things no one warned you about.

Let’s be real — the early days of comedy are like surviving on ramen, adrenaline, and blind faith. You wonder if you’re making progress or just becoming a permanent fixture at open mics, like that one sticky chair no one wants to sit in. But here’s the good news: you are growing.