Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #23

Earlier this week I sent out a small series of Tweets which, looking back, appeared to be some sort of cry for help.

It wasn’t.

First off; I’m absolutely fine and secondly; a big thank you to The Samaritans – your direct messages were both inspiring and reassuring.

The Tweets in question weren’t anything too serious – which is a good thing, as some members of my family chose to ignore them. Thanks guys.

They were about writing comedy.

That might not sound too worrying but the fact is that while sitting down to write something funny, I was hit with a horrible realisation – like a knife to the heart or a blast of Lynx to the groin, it floored me.

Not literally; it wasn’t the most incredible thought, I’m sure other people have had better – like Einstein and the genius who invented those toaster-pocket-things.

The epiphany was this – writing comedy is really hard.

I know that sounds silly because it’s such an obvious thing – writing is hard.

Not writing this. This is a doddle. To be honest; it’s too easy. Unchallenging, if anything.

But writing comedy – stand up, sketches, scripts – is bloody hard work.

I’ve always known it but this week it finally dawned on me that I have no idea whether something’s funny or not.

This may sound like a very debilitating problem for a comedian and that’s because it is.

No matter how much I write and write and steal bits from YouTube and write, I find it harder to be certain of what I’m putting on the page.

I bet Dickens never had this problem when he made Oliver! The Musical.

Of course, when I first come up with an idea; I laugh. I admit it – I chuckle to myself. Guffaw, even.

I usually take five to compose myself and wipe away a tear of joy.

But as I continue writing, re-reading and editing, the joke stops making me laugh. That can’t be right, surely?

Oddly enough, this hasn’t come during one of my more lucrative procrastination periods. I’m actually being quite productive. Prolific, some might say.

Not me; that sounds too much like hard work.

Nevertheless, I’ve had a number of self-imposed and imposed-upon-me deadlines that have forced my hand, the hand holding the biro.

This has been a real boost to my output; I’ve been knocking out scripts and sketches and bits of stand up left, right and centre.

While this will most certainly account for the lack of quality control, it doesn’t account for this sudden and severe lapse in confidence.

In some ways this is no surprise as – spoiler alert – I’ve never been that confident.

You’re probably thinking; ‘Not you Rob, with your Greek God-like complexion and hilarious joke-dispensing personality’ but it’s true.

Certainly when it comes to confidence in my own ability; I’m the sort of person who wouldn’t trust myself to get dressed in the morning, which is one of the many reasons I took up naturism.

I’ve never fully trusted myself to make decisions and stick with them.

Many times I’ve considered hiring a carer to take charge of these responsibilities but then I’d be the one to interview them, and could I really trust myself to pick the best person for the job? Probably not.

However, the one thing I’ve always had conviction in is my comedy.

Whether I’m sticking a knife in a plug socket or licking VCRs I can be certain that while my judgement might be a little off-whack, my comedy muscles are razor sharp.

If I was allowed to play with razors, that is.

So why is it that my self-confidence is no longer there? Where did I lose it? And do they have a lost property box?

Part of me knows it’s just a phase I’ll grow out of, like the time I wore fishnets – barnacles and all – but it still worries me slightly.

It worries me that I’m losing sight of my ‘voice’.

When I say ‘voice’ I don’t mean like singers, when they say ‘my instrument’; I’m not that pretentious. I mean ‘voice’ as in my distinct image, personal style and opinions.

OK, so maybe I am that pretentious.

I worry I’ve forgotten what it is I’m trying to do with comedy and also, I worry that I’ve never really known what I’m doing.

It’s a funny one.

Not funny-haha, or else I wouldn’t have this problem, obviously. It’s funny-peculiar and, unfortunately, something I don’t have an answer to just yet.

I’m sure I’ll find it again. If Stella got her groove back, I can find my comedy mojo.

Who knows; it might be back tomorrow, but for now I’m a little unsure of what it is I’m doing and saying.

Now I know how people with senile dementia feel, only I don’t have an excuse to walk round Aldi in my pyjamas.

I’m certain it’s a just a blip on my comedic heart monitor, and while I’m still being semi-prolific I’m going to keep writing as much as I can.

At least until the funny well runs…er…

Rob is appearing with Jolly Mixtures at C69 Hull Comedian of the Year heat at the New Clarence, on Friday 20 September, 8pm. And also at My Newt Comedy @ The Sparrow Bier Café in Bradford on Wednesday 25 September, 8pm.