As the beginning of August approaches, I can’t help but feel a tinge of anxiety and perhaps even a hangover. It has been 17 years since I last performed at the Edinburgh Fringe, but the memories are still vivid. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the city and the festivals, but for a young comedian, it was an incredibly stressful experience.
Let’s start with the financial aspect. Even back when I was a regular at the Fringe, it was common to sell out a month-long run and still end up with losses of £10,000. I’ve heard that it has only become worse for the current generation. People outside the Fringe world find it hard to believe, but when you have a venue that only seats 60 people, it’s impossible to cover the expenses of staying in an expensive city for you and the technical, backstage, and box office staff.
Punters rightly complain about the high ticket prices, but performers themselves are paying a small fortune each night just to do their job. Solo performers have no one to split the costs with. I was fortunate enough to have a sponsor cover my losses from 2002 to 2006, without which I wouldn’t have been able to participate.
Then there’s marketing, posters, and PR. The costs keep rising, but how else can you let people know about your show? Cutting costs is risky because it might result in playing to empty houses. The average audience for a Fringe show used to be three, but now I hear it might be as low as five. Just last week, actor Georgie Grier shared that she performed to just one person, and many well-known names offered their support, having experienced similar disappointments. Performing every night for a month can make you a better comedian, but only if the shows don’t get canceled due to lack of audience.
Financially and emotionally, the five years I spent doing standup in Edinburgh were challenging. It’s a public arena where you either rise or fall. Everyone knows which shows are successful and which are struggling to fill seats. Comedians are accustomed to being judged since audiences express their opinions in real time, whether through laughter, heckling, or indifference. But in Edinburgh, you’re surrounded by peers all competing for the same audience, all aware of who’s succeeding or failing. It’s crucial to build up your confidence before each performance.
In recent years, I’ve noticed how social media has contributed to an increase in anxiety and feelings of inadequacy. It’s disheartening to think that more people now experience the same pressure I felt during that rainy month in August. While I can’t promise to alleviate these feelings for comedians or audiences during the Fringe, I can share what I’ve learned that may offer some solace.
Firstly, it’s important to accept that sometimes it’s about you and other times it’s about them. Your jokes may not land because they need improvement, but sometimes you did your absolute best and the audience simply didn’t connect with it. Maybe they were in a bad mood, drunk, or you just weren’t their cup of tea. It happens occasionally, but if it’s a daily struggle, then it’s time to reevaluate your performance (this also applies to online dating).
Avoid reading reviews until after the Fringe is over, or better yet, don’t read them at all. People may argue that you should read everything that’s written about you, but you really don’t have to. It’s like eavesdropping – you might stumble upon valuable information, but more often than not, it’s just someone criticizing your appearance. I haven’t read a review of my work since 2002, and it has made it much easier for me to assume that everyone likes me. This mindset enables me to focus on my work without unnecessary doubts.
If you can’t resist reading reviews, remember that they’re only about one show on one night. They don’t define your entire career, talent, or personality, even if the reviewer believes otherwise. As someone who used to be an arts reviewer, I recognize their right to express an informed opinion, but you have the right to ignore it. Maybe I didn’t understand the joke or maybe it wasn’t my preferred style of comedy. It may feel like everything is about you, but that might not be the case. This perspective is easier to maintain when you aren’t overwhelmed by performance anxiety.
Stress causes everyone to become a bit prickly and inconsiderate of others’ feelings. So, if someone says something hurtful during the Fringe, try not to hold a grudge. There’s plenty of time to deal with any conflicts in September if necessary.
In the meantime, I wish the best of luck to performers, technicians, audience members, bar staff, and the year-round residents of Edinburgh who endure the annual invasion with a sense of humor. Oh, and one final tip – that feeling of sickness you may be experiencing is not malaria, but rather the result of being in a venue that’s 20C hotter inside than outside.
Denial of responsibility! VigourTimes is an automatic aggregator of Global media. In each content, the hyperlink to the primary source is specified. All trademarks belong to their rightful owners, and all materials to their authors. For any complaint, please reach us at – [email protected]. We will take necessary action within 24 hours.
