5 Tips to Deal With Stage Fright
During the Q&A portion of a recent Zoom comedy show, one of the audience members asked how comedians deal with stage fright. I can’t answer for all of them, but I can offer a few [five] suggestions that have helped me.
1. Be your own therapist.
It’s so much cheaper than the real thing and, I'd argue, just as effective. When you analyze your own phobias and other undesirable behaviors, you’ll find it hard to keep repeating the behavior.
What specifically scares you about performing on stage? People won’t laugh.
What does the people not laughing mean to you? It means I’m not funny.
What are the costs and benefits of the assumption: if people don’t laugh then I'm not funny? Pro: Uhhh... Con: Not feeling funny may affect my performance; I might not write as well.
How would it change you or your act if you cared less about whether people laugh? I might not feel less funny, I could feel freer when I write, which would mean funnier and more original material, which would give me confidence on stage, which would obviously mean I’d sell out the Beacon Theater.
What is some evidence for and against the assumption that you’re not funny? Every day, my dog tells me I’m not funny.
Maybe we should stop talking to ourselves and seek real help? That’s a great idea.
Other questions to ask yourself:
Is it possible that maybe you can’t read people’s minds and maybe they’re not judging you as harshly as you think?
Could it be possible that they’ll forget your name the second you get off stage?
Have you ever been in the audience when a comedian didn’t do well? How did you feel?
Do you remember every comedian you’ve seen who didn’t do well? Is it possible that maybe they won’t either?
2. The Nike Method.
Also, Exposure Therapy. Just do it. Start by imagining the scenario. Include as much detail as possible. What the stage looks like. How many people are in the audience. What they look like. What the mic smells like. Imaging telling a joke. It doesn’t kill. Now imagine what comes next. You’re still standing there. The audience is still sitting there. You tell your next joke. A few people laugh. You end your set. You’re still alive. The audience has already forgotten your name. Were you physically harmed in any way? Is it possible that you can take what you learned from that experience and do better next time?
Then, actually perform. Get up on stage in real life. Get through it, and feel what it feels like to be alive after a so-so performance. (Or a killer performance, depending on how well you did.)
3. Use the feeling to fuel your rehearsal.
Whenever I think about stage fright, I think about forgetting lines or material. I harness that anxiety to fuel my preparation. I’ll practice jokes until I hate them.
4. Tell yourself it’s excitement.
You’d be surprised how well you can lie to yourself. When my pits drip, I tell myself those jitters are my body’s way of telling me it’s excited. I usually believe it.
5. Ask What’s the worst that can happen?
There’s no such thing as a comedy emergency. You’re not going to literally die. Unless you’re an audience member at a Dane Cook concert.