I’m fortunate enough to be able to name my own MC when I work locally or if I book a one-nighter. If you’re feeling overlooked by headliners, this post will give you some tips on what they’re looking for when choosing a host.

Wardrobe and hygiene–Aside from the obvious tip on avoiding shorts, always consider your wardrobe when you go to a club’s open mic. A host represents the club and the rest of the comics, so dress respectably. Jeans aren’t too much to ask. And I hate to say this, but there are too many comics who smell bad. No one wants to hang out with a comic who’s going to stink up the green room or the bar all week. Make sure you’re clean, your clothes are clean, and that you don’t smell like pot, otherwise you’re crippling your chances.

Be a coachable listener–This probably held me back the most in my early 20’s. After a drink or two I talked too much trying to prove I was a “real” road comic to whatever feature and headliner I worked with that week. Let your act do the talking. Listen to the more experienced comedians who often have great advice as long as you’ll stay quiet and listen. If they can’t tolerate a conversation with you, you’ll get no helpful feedback nor will they want to work with you in the future.

Diversity–For the audience’s sake it’s nice to hear from more than just 3 white guys. This also prevents chances of premise overlap. I know some comedy communities are limited in choices. In this aspect, being a minority is an advantage.

Promote the show on social media–If I know an opener is going to post often about the show and increase crowd size, he or she is doing me a big favor. It’s the same reason so many comedy contests always favor the comic who packs the place instead of necessarily the funniest. Butts in seats are ultimately what matter.

Cleanish, relatable material–This can be challenging for a majority of the demographic in this stage of his or her career (your 20’s). As an opener, the other comics and the club prefer you don’t shock the audience with anything overly graphic in the first few minutes of the show. I’ve preached enough on that. The tougher part is being relatable. A large chunk of your audience is in a relationship, so if you’re spouting “poor me, I’m single” jokes (and I used to have a lot of these!), you’re not going to connect. Assume a majority of your crowd hasn’t made smoking weed as big of a part of their life as you have (although drinking is a popular, relatable topic). Either way, find relatable material. Or find material so unique that it sets you apart.

Be low-maintenance–Don’t bother the headliner with questions that can be answered elsewhere. Don’t have props and sound cues or anything else special on stage. Just be able to perform your act without involving anyone else. Arrive on time and drink responsibly. Also, don’t sell merch as an MC unless the other comics forgo it. Still, you should check with the club. (You shouldn’t have merch yet if you’re only getting MC work.)

I was a late-bloomer as far as becoming a feature and headliner. It took me 6 or 7 years before I was featuring more than MCing. It took me 15 years to have a somewhat solid headline act of 45 minutes. I like to give chances to those struggling to be noticed because I felt that way very often early in my career. Comics like to pay it forward, so follow the above advice and your chance will come soon enough. Showbiz is never going to be fair, and it takes some people much longer for their shot. Just be sure you’re ready when you get yours.

For more advice on how to make money and progress your career as a comedian, check out my book (now with an audio version!) with this link.

The toughest month for stand-up comedians is December. While it’s almost always the most lucrative month, it’s definitely the most challenging. The reason? Christmas parties.

If you’re performing at a company party, it’s hard to find a crowd in that “sweet spot” as far as how much they drink. The earlier, tamer gigs during the daylight hours are often held at the work location and may offer drinks to their employees, but you get a sense that the boss holds a tight grip on things. And while he or she says they’re up for being poked fun at, you don’t know them well enough to write true zingers. 

These crowds tend to stay sober and tentative, and a lot of the bits you can get away with at a comedy club become too edgy for a crowd (especially with the lights still up). Keep your energy high and don’t acknowledge that it’s not going well for as long as you can. Outside of the office, there are venues that host comedy once-a-month that still haven’t figured out how to properly set up a show, so don’t expect ideal conditions at some place like Ron’s Warehouse of Refrigerators. Another challenge is that people might bring their family along meaning a possibility of children or infants in the room. This is more frequent than you’d think.

The challenge you face when these parties come to the comedy club are the opposite. December crowds are plagued with amateur drinkers with an open bar, courtesy of their employer. You’re faced with crowds of people who have never been to a comedy show, nor have they properly paced themselves for real cocktails. This strawberry daiquiri is way stronger than my usual Busch Light! Their previous experience with stand-up consists of watching Instagram Reels or TikToks of comics handling hecklers (thanks Matt Rife), so they think yelling out during a show makes it better. And what is a club supposed to do? Kicking out members of a $1200 bar tab isn’t great for business. 

The month crescendos with what Jimmy Pardo once referred to on his podcast as “Amateur Night” when it comes to crowds. You get inexperienced drinkers. And noisemakers. The last NYE gig I did, they handed out noise makers to the people coming in while I was twenty minutes into my set. You’re at the mercy of the venue trying to ensure its most profitable night of the year.

So how do you deal with these challenges? 

The first step is to communicate to whoever is running the show the elements you’ll need. It’s not a given that they’ll have a PA system handy, so communicate that for sure. If you’re performing for a business, do your research. This year I was performing for a realtor company, so I asked two of my realtor friends for some help with the frustrations of being a realtor. They were able to provide me with some premises that went over really well. One party asked if I did song parodies. I hadn’t before, but these shows are also a good time to experiment, so I wrote and sang a song called “Walking in Festus” which took some additional research. It felt good to add something goofy to my routine and to close with it. Customize your act to the town and the business you’re performing for and it’ll go a long way.

If there are younger people in the room, you may have to clean up the context of your act. I’ve stressed that this is where the money is in a lot of these entries. Even when people say it’s okay to say whatever, people feel awkward when you discuss sex in front of younger people.

For rowdier club sets, avoid crowd interaction and then increase your tempo while decreasing time between bits. Hold the mic a little closer to make sure you’re loud enough.

A week before Christmas, I faced one of the toughest gigs I’ve had in awhile. The entire room was over the age of 65 and I’m pretty sure they were all millionaires. It was at a very fancy venue. It was requested that the opener and I get there for dinner (which was the one bright spot). Normally I don’t like to appear in front of the audience or get to a venue more than half an hour ahead of time, but if you can schmooze a bit, it can be beneficial. If they all work together, you’re seen more as an outsider, so socializing ahead of time in this instance is okay. Open with the material tailored for that party. Let them know it’s not you against them.

As far as charging, raise your price. Odds are the gig will be challenging so you may as well profit a few extra dollars. Company budgets are beyond what we would fathom sometimes. Rework the details if they don’t want to pay as much (shorten your set, or don’t bring a feature act). You can even turn gigs down. If they can’t take you seriously and respect what you cost, they won’t take you seriously or respect your performance. No matter what, always bring at least one opener to break the ice. If there are sound or other unique issues, the opener will endure them.

If you can pull off a strong set, word spreads and you’ll get to fill next year’s calendar with more lucrative, yet hellish gigs. Good luck!

For more tips on how to make money in stand-up comedy, check out my book, Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage.

If you gave an open mic comic and a headliner the same joke in front of the same crowd, the headliner would be able to perform it much better using almost exactly the same words. The difference is this: A headliner will say the same words in a funnier way. (Saying funny words is not the same as saying words funny.) To do that, you need to show the audience what’s happening instead of telling them. I’ll use an old bit of mine as an example (it’s not gold, thus I’ve dropped it, but it works for the point I’m making).

Telling: I walked into the bedroom the other night and my wife had the space heater and the ceiling fan on at the same time. What is she thinking? That’s a warm front and a cold front, she’s going to start a tornado!

Showing: I walked into the bedroom the other night and my wife had the space heater and the ceiling fan on at the same time. “What are you thinking?! That’s a warm front and a cold front, you’re going to start a tornado!”

When I originally ran this bit by my wife years ago, she told me it wasn’t funny. She’s right because it’s not, on paper. Yet, I was determined to show her I could get laughs with it and I did. Here’s how:

In the 2nd example, I address my wife as if she’s there, thus putting the audience in the scene with me. They’re more connected to my point of view and emotion. It’s also a lot easier to add more energy and emphasis to the punchline. Also, I would point down and then up for the space heater and ceiling fan, adding to the visual.

It’s the difference between telling and showing/performing. When you show the joke you can perform with real emotion. It doesn’t need to be an angry rant to have energy. Anger is easy to show, but you can add goofiness, fear, confusion or anything else depending on the context. You don’t need to be a theater major to portray any of these emotions.

Odds are you’re already doing this in some of your best material. That’s the difference, you’re putting the audience in the scene with you and letting them witness whatever it is first hand. This is part of the margin between beginner and more advanced bits.

Next, find a way to make your setups shorter and funnier. Is there a one-liner you use elsewhere that you could include here instead? If not, skip the setup (especially if it’s asking the audience if they’ve heard about or are interested in whatever the topic is). For the above joke I set it up this way. “We have a hard time agreeing on bedroom temperature. Especially during those 3 days we refer to as “spring.” (Yes, a cheap weather joke, but people can relate because we never get spring in the Midwest, so they laugh.)

Finally, tag lines. The best tags often come from other comedians’ suggestions so be willing to listen. We all need a little help. See if there’s a tagline that relates to a previous joke and make it a callback. For the example joke I never did have a great tag, thus it’s not in my headliner set anymore. Instead, I had another bit about other arguments we’ve had.

It’s really that simple. At the next open mic, watch the comics who headline and notice the difference from showing vs. telling (by the less experienced comics). You’ll also get much closer to finding your “comedy voice” because it makes you use your own emotion rather than that same dry, uptalk delivery 75% of open mic comics use today.

I’d like to add that I’m considering writing Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage 2.0. It would have a different format, and while a lot of the information would be the same. This would also include a lot of updates on things I’ve learned since publishing the original book in December of 2011. I’m also going to add a memoir element to it, giving stories and anecdotes from when I learned these lessons which would paint a better picture of what the business is really like. A lot has changed in the comedy industry in the last decade, so I hope to share more that I’ve learned. It’ll be awhile (at least a year or longer), so if you want to grab the first book, it’s still available here as an ebook or paperback.

Shares are always appreciated!

In the comedy hierarchy, feature act is a spot of 20-30 minutes during the show’s sweet spot (crowd is settled in with booze in their bloodstream, but they’re not obnoxious or paying their check yet). Back in the day, you could be a feature act and full-time comic. It’s rare now as many clubs don’t have a place to put out-of-town feature acts (they do, they just don’t want to pay). A feature act usually makes anywhere from $50-$100 for a club show which is the same crap money they’ve made since the 90’s.

If you somehow get promoted from MC to feature, here is some advice:

1. Don’t marry the label—Comics who wear it like a badge come off as trying to hard to establish they’re above MCing. Your act should establish this, even if you’re only doing a few minutes at an open mic. Don’t bring it up in comic conversations.
2. Don’t record an album—Trust me, in a year or two you’ll cringe at half of your material. It’s not ready to be mass produced and sold at shows. If you’ve got a cheap way to slap it up on Spotify, it’s probably still not worth it.
3. Don’t go overboard on merch—Selling merch is necessary for sure, but don’t order thousands and thousands of something you’re sure will be a hit. I’ve seen too many ideas fall short and comics getting stuck with boxes of merch they’ll never get rid of and then become too ashamed to even sell. Also, it’s a courtesy to ask the headliner if it’s okay that you sell merch. If they say no, they’re an insecure, selfish jerk OR your merch is so obnoxious (racist t-shirt anyone?) they don’t want to share a table with you.
4. Don’t quit your day job—Featuring isn’t a profitable career. Find other means of income when you’re not on the road. I think 2020 made it apparent how important a backup hustle is.
5. Don’t stop writing—If you get complacent with your set as a new feature, it’s going to age way too quickly. Odds are you’re in your 20’s, so a lot changes during this decade. Keep performing at open mics just as often as before so that your act won’t grow stale.
6. Don’t turn down MC work—If a new club lets you host, don’t blow them off because you’re above it. They might be checking to see if you are capable of featuring. Perhaps another comic suggested you. While it used to be true, clubs will not pigeon-hole you into MCing anymore. They’ve got comics who will work for free a lot of times.
7. Don’t do crowd work—You’ve only got 20-30 minutes, and it still bothers headliners when you teach the crowd that their interaction is vital to the show. The headliner has to entertain these people for a longer time 2 or more drinks after you were performing, so leave it up to him or her as to how much the crowd will be involved. While I’m at it, don’t get super-filthy either.
8. Don’t become high maintenance—The first thing I did when I began featuring was make the sound guy play a CD as I took the stage (cringe). Featuring doesn’t give you a right to taking advantage of a club’s free-drink policy. Stay out of the way, don’t mess up the green room, don’t ask any special favors, and if you’re comping friends at the show make sure they behave.
9. Don’t go over your time—Common sense, but nothing is worse than headlining a drunk room after a show started 20 minutes late, the MC did 15 minutes, a guest set killed for 10 minutes and the feature is still on stage at 9:15 at a show that was supposed to start at 8:00. Audiences have 90-100 good minutes in them, so be aware.

For more tips on how to make money in stand-up comedy, check out my book, Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage or subscribe to my YouTube videos for more advice.

As things have reopened, I’ve managed to work a few paid shows and test stuff at open mic. This last weekend I had my first week at a comedy club in about a year consisting of 3 days and a total of 5 shows, but the late show Friday was the worst paid set I’ve had as a headliner and one of the top 3 worst sets I’ve ever performed.

On Thursday, we only had 8 people in the crowd, so my set was shortened. For the first show Friday, we had some guest sets, so I did about 40 minutes. During that one I found myself struggling to automatically know which joke came next. I’d written some new material in the last year and hadn’t fit it permanently into my set. Still, first show Friday was relatively fine.

For the second show, I faced a perfect storm and only made things worse for myself. Here’s how:

The second show on Friday is almost always the toughest show of the week at a club. People are tired from working all day and they’ve typically been drinking for hours. Add a full moon, and you’re going to get a tired, drunk crowd who might not be used to being out and about that late.

My friend Reggie Edwards absolutely killed it for 10-15 minutes before me. No matter the demographic, Reggie can pull of a great set.

I didn’t take any of these things into account and went up like it was just any other show. As I was being introduced “He’s published 5 books and tours clubs and colleges…” I heard my first heckle, “Read us a book…” It wasn’t that loud or direct, but it threw me off and I wasn’t even on stage yet. I also had to replace the mic condom with a new one and didn’t do that very smoothly. This means I got on stage and didn’t speak write away. A major error. In the opening moments of my set, I let the crowd recognize silence—a complete juxtaposition from the last 10 minutes. Unless you’re a master who they’ve come to see, that’s hard to overcome.

I noticed right away that my jokes about teaching weren’t hitting very hard. I should have jumped straight to the edgier side of my act. I work pretty clean, but I do have jokes about sex which I should’ve gone straight to. I tend to do my sets in the same order so I can remember what’s next and because there are several callbacks that depend on ordering. As I learned the hard way, a drunk crowd doesn’t want to back up and learn about the frustrations of teaching.

When laughter is decreased a comic has less time to think about “What’s next?” and “Where do I go from here?” Those thoughts led to more silence which eventually led to drunk people taking it upon themselves to fill it. I was asked where I taught and told them, and the drunkest table there happened to be from the neighboring rival school. Why high school sports rivalries matter to grown adults in a comedy club is beyond me, but alas, they made a big deal about it.

The first third of my set was still okay, considering. But around the midway point the checkdrop happened and I never recovered. The guy who was laughing loudest on the “good” side of the room was no longer listening. He must’ve inspected every drink on his receipt because he wasn’t even watching anymore.

Around this point I did a darker joke which usually hits, but they somehow took offense to. Moaning is common (and has been since around 2012 for some reason), but I wasn’t even getting the “Oh no he didn’t!” moans. I got a response of “We’re legitimately offended.” On a late show Friday? Yes, somehow.

I made things worse by jabbing back at tables. I had a couple walk out from the front row after I made fun of the woman when her cellphone went off. Who still uses ringers? They made a 5-star production of getting up, putting coats on, finishing drink, and slowly walking from near the front across the room. I know from experience you can’t start a new joke while this is happening as the crowd is more interested in them. This was with about 5-10 minutes left in my set. I did my book promo half-assed figuring no one was going to even look at me afterwards (I sold one that show), and then finally got the light, did my closer to minimal laughter, got off stage, put my mask back on, and swore under it for the next 5 minutes.

As a comic, when you have a bad set, acknowledge it. If you act like a bad set is normal, the club will know you’ve set the bar too low or you’re used to failure. I’ve had plenty of great sets in that room over the last 15 years, so it’s not like it’s the end of my time there. One of the servers even joked with me about it. I recovered last night and was happy with both sets to cleanse the palate. I talked with the manager and we rehashed what I could’ve done differently. He understood that we’re all a little rusty during this period as well.

So let me summarize what I could’ve done to avoid this catastrophe:

1. Taken the stage more aggressively.
2. Adjusted setlist to get to dirtier stuff right away.
3. Avoided edgier jokes that might produce moans or turn people off.
4. Reduced time in between bits to almost nothing (plow through the set if you have to).
5. Ignored drunk heckles. It became me vs. them instead of them seeing me as one of them.

It was a learning experience for me, and a warning for you. So if you’re doing longer sets and you haven’t been working much lately, run through that setlist until you’re back into auto-pilot on which joke comes next.

As comics, we tend to dwell on the negative. During a great set, we notice the one person not laughing. During a great week, we remember the one show that didn’t go as well. I’ve got to move on as I have two one-nighters the next two weeks. I couldn’t even get myself to make a video about all this. Venting and writing about it was therapeutic. Pretending it didn’t happen would only give it a chance to happen again.

For more tips on how to make money in stand-up comedy, check out my book Don’t Wear Shorts on Stage, available in paperback and ebook. (And help me get my self-esteem back!)