The first thing you need to accept when you move to NYC to do comedy is that you suck. Fundamentally, on several levels, you suck. You suck as a comic, because not only are you new to the game, you possessed enough arrogance to think you could claw your way through 11,000 people for a slightly bigger piece of B-List celebrity pie (at best).You suck as a person, too.
You’re either not good enough to do anything else and are good enough at being a jerk-off that you think you can go pro. Or, you DO have options, legitimate options involving school loans and diplomas and the hopes and aspirations of parents and mentors and loved ones … but you’re gonna piss all over those for your aforementioned slice of B-list celebrity pie.After your first few shows, you’re going to hate all your material because every weakness in it overcomes your act like a cancer brought about by the radioactive judgment emanating from the blank, laugh-free faces of your peers. All of whom, by the way, think you suck. You suck for not being funny. Or, you suck FOR being funny, and are just another competitor.
You get writer’s block. You apply for food stamps. You feel like un perdedor. You suck.And then, it happens. Some comic you thought had no clue who you were offers you a non-paying gig on a weekday night. And after paying $5 for 5 minute spots for several weeks or months, it’s about the greatest compliment you ever received. And you do the show. And you do well because you’re so geeked to be performing for non-comedians (They laugh at tags! They laugh at set-ups!) that later, on the hour-and-a-half train ride back to your overpriced apartment in the outer boroughs, you think ‘This doesn’t suck. This doesn’t suck at all.'
Mo Mozuch is a Pittsburgh-born comic now living in New York City.