I can’t remember exactly when it was I booked up to Craft of Comedy (CofC), and if I’m honest this post is so inconsequential there’s no point in going back through old emails for ‘facts’. However, I can remember how I felt a few moments after I had added the three requested letters from my 3D secure password to the final payment screen - R B P for those that are interested, I’ll remember to include my mother’s maiden name in a future paragraph - I felt incredibly excited that I had finally taken a bold step towards something I had been ‘banging on about' for such a long time.
Of course, about two minutes later I also felt incredibly nervous thinking about the fact I was going to have to go somewhere quite far away, with a lot of people, none of whom I knew, who might ask me the dreaded question: “what are you writing?” to which I didn’t really have a very good answer…
In all honesty, I also wasn't exactly sure what I had actually signed up for given that the only information on the website at the time was to do with the previous year’s event along with a smattering of names of some of the potential speakers. But people I follow and like on Twitter, along with Dave Cohen and James Cary’s excellent ‘Sitcom Geeks Podcast, were all saying how good it was and what a rewarding time they had had at previous events that I felt it would definitely be worthwhile.
As the days and weeks rolled by, more and more names of the speakers and sessions were added to the site, and I got more and more excited about having booked up. Yes of course, I still had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I was going to be seen as a massive fraud when I was there as I hadn’t actually written anything of any significance; but the line on all the marketing materials that said the event was for “those who work in comedy, and those who’d like to,” I felt, gave me my out.
A few more weeks passed, I’d seen the full schedule of what was in store, I’d made my final choices as to the sessions I wanted to attend, and I was incredibly excited.
Finally the weekend arrived.
And the nerves properly set in.
For the benefit of the tape, I feel I must share that I’m quite a quiet, at times awkwardish person who suffers from incredibly low self-confidence. Now, this may be slightly misleading as the awkwardness is often in my head and so probably goes unnoticed to those people I am interacting with. And, if you’ve met me, you wouldn’t believe that I was either quiet or had little confidence, but the truth of the matter is that I am and I do.
I’ve never had the ability to make the first move in any situation. (As I'm sure my lovely partner, Clare will attest to.) I’m definitely not the sort of person that can walk into a packed room, stride up to a table full of strangers and go "hi, I’m Mike". Oh, how I wish I could, but it's just not me. What I’m most likely to do is what I did at CofC; I walked into a packed room, sidled up to an empty table and sat and waited in the hope that people were forced to sit with me because there was nowhere else to sit. Luckily, the people that eventually did join my empty table weren’t other ‘mes’. They were quite happy to say hello and introduce themselves, and from that moment on I was absolutely fine. I chatted and listened and hopefully nobody noticed anything too unusual about me. In truth, I had some really interesting conversations because I had something in common with everyone else in the room; we all loved comedy.
I feel a little sorry for those people that don’t like comedy. I can’t imagine my life without it. I’m very lucky as pretty much everyone in my family has a great sense of humour, and laughter has always played a huge part in my life. At the centre of that laughter is my dad, who is a very funny man. He introduced me to comedy from a very early age by giving me access to his Hancock, I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue and Goon Show cassettes. I used to put the Hancock's on before going to bed and eventually knew them off by heart. We also regularly watched TV comedy together, Porridge being our absolute favourite. We knew the episodes backwards and often had competitions on who could best recite some of the lines. I think I finally just edged him on Brian Glover’s line from The Hustler: “that has a riot ‘o colour, and what with his vegetables, she never had to want for nothin'.” I had to get that one in, sorry Dad!
Anyway, I digress. Where was I? Ah, yes. Don’t get me wrong, I still felt very out of place as it seemed like I was the only person there that hadn’t actually done anything of any substance. I have written lots of ideas and even started a few projects, but I’ve never actually finished anything. I have countless pieces of paper and rarely accessed Word docs all over the place with half-formed ideas that I will occasionally find now and again, look at, write a few extra bits and then put them back where I found them. It’s a bit like those chess games that took place by post or CB radio in old films and TV shows. Maybe by 2023 I will have at least finished one of them? Or found out whether it is are raining not in Tokyo. (One for the Hancockophiles.)
So, the question I feared being asked the most was, “what have you written/are you writing?”. I suppose, if I had more confidence, I could have embellished my story slightly and said I’d written far more than I actually had. But, I try to be quite an honest person so I told the truth. I told them the few things I had been working on, but also that I hadn’t done nearly enough but I really wanted to, so I was using Craft of Comedy for the inspiration/motivation I so obviously/desperately needed. My fears were realised as I was asked this question a few times during the weekend, but following my answer guess what, people weren’t patronising or condescending in any way - they were incredibly supportive and offered advice on things to try in order to be more productive.
And that right there is why Craft of Comedy had so many positive recommendations when I looked to learn about it in the first place. I didn't read one bad word about it; just that it was an incredibly collaborative and worthwhile experience. And from my own point of view, I can't disagree with that in any way. It was extremely useful for someone like me. Someone that has a dream somewhere in the back of his head that he can write comedy. But also, someone that doesn't actually believe people like me ever could. Luckily, having spent a weekend with people very similar to myself, I'm starting to question that view. If I really put my mind to it, work hard, give it a really good go and actually finish something, then maybe, just maybe I'll have a chance. Of course, I still need to work out how to somehow gain some self-belief from somewhere, but hopefully with a half-decent finished product that can be worked on.
I realised during the short walk back to where I was staying – an excellent AIRBNB whose details I won’t give as I want to use it again next year! - I’d gone from pretty much dreading the day, to actually being genuinely upset that it was over. I'd been at Venue Cymru for a little under 12 hours, and it had gone by in what felt like about 90 minutes. I was, to borrow a phrase from the 'yoof', absolutely buzzing. (And not just because my 'sad' knowledge of Police Academy movies helped endear me to my quiz and chips teammates – special thanks to Joel Morris for including those questions! Oh, and a quick shout out to the other members of 'David Quantick's Breakfast Chefs!').
As well as 'buzzing', I was also completely wiped out. I hadn't felt tired once all day; I suppose this was because I was hugely engaged with the subject matter and enjoying the company of everyone I spoke with. But about five minutes after walking through the door, a wave of tiredness swept over me. Unfortunately for the aforementioned Clare, I still had just about enough energy to retell her pretty much everything about my day. I went to bed exhausted, but creatively energised. (Wow, I can only apologise for using such a wan*y phrase.)
Day two started with an excellent Full English from The Lemon Tree café. (This post has not been sponsored. However, if they want to offer me a discount next year, I’ll happily accept!) Embodying David Baddiel for a brief moment I tweeted a picture of my breakfast - thankfully, I didn't get a similar number or the sorts of replies to the tweet that he gets. As I started walking back to the Venue I realised the fear wasn't with me this time. Now whether this was down to having spoken to people the previous day and realising how incredibly supportive they all were, or the magical powers of sausage and bacon, I'm not entirely sure; but I felt much better nonetheless.
I’ve taken up far too much of your time already with my ramblings, so I won't recap the whole second day. (Unfortunately Clare wasn’t so lucky!). But all-in-all it was another awe-inspiring experience. I learned something useful from all of the sessions I attended, topped off by watching the excellent, and very funny, Death of Stalin in the company of two of its writers, David Schneider and Ian Martin.
As I walked back to the AirBnB this time, I won’t lie, I was properly emotional. I was sad that it was all over. I’d had two absolutely incredible days, surrounded by some amazingly talented people. And I realised I want to be around these people more. Not just at next year’s conference, which I will definitely be attending, but as friends or ultimately as colleagues. I’ve wasted so much time in my life doing jobs I get hardly any enjoyment from, so imagine getting paid to do something you really love?
I don’t underestimate the task I have in hand, I know how incredibly hard it is going to be to get anywhere, and especially to get to a position where I may be able to do something full-time, but I’m finally going to give it a bloody good go! As with anything, the more you do it, the better you get, so I need to make sure I write as much as possible to get better. I am honestly under no illusions of how tough it is out there. I’ve submitted a fair bit to the BBC’s Newsjack over the last few years to no avail but hearing the quality of the writing I am up against I know I need to raise my game. But I also know that there are other things I will be far more suited to. (If anyone knows Jon Naismith tell him I've got some great stuff for I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue!)
If you have any interest in working in any aspect of comedy I highly recommend getting yourself to Llandudno next June. Not only will you learn a great deal from people that have actually been there and done it, you'll also be surrounded by a wonderful group of immensely talented people who are genuinely willing to offer advice and to help you in any way they can.
And with that in mind, maybe you could help me please? Follow me on twitter, @MikeCooperRP and ask me every now and again what I am writing. Hopefully, the embarrassment of not wanting to reply ‘nothing at the moment, I'm too busy watching Netflix,’ will give me the motivation to write every chance I get!
Thanks for reading; see you at next year’s Craft of Comedy!
Of course, about two minutes later I also felt incredibly nervous thinking about the fact I was going to have to go somewhere quite far away, with a lot of people, none of whom I knew, who might ask me the dreaded question: “what are you writing?” to which I didn’t really have a very good answer…
In all honesty, I also wasn't exactly sure what I had actually signed up for given that the only information on the website at the time was to do with the previous year’s event along with a smattering of names of some of the potential speakers. But people I follow and like on Twitter, along with Dave Cohen and James Cary’s excellent ‘Sitcom Geeks Podcast, were all saying how good it was and what a rewarding time they had had at previous events that I felt it would definitely be worthwhile.
As the days and weeks rolled by, more and more names of the speakers and sessions were added to the site, and I got more and more excited about having booked up. Yes of course, I still had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I was going to be seen as a massive fraud when I was there as I hadn’t actually written anything of any significance; but the line on all the marketing materials that said the event was for “those who work in comedy, and those who’d like to,” I felt, gave me my out.
A few more weeks passed, I’d seen the full schedule of what was in store, I’d made my final choices as to the sessions I wanted to attend, and I was incredibly excited.
Finally the weekend arrived.
And the nerves properly set in.
For the benefit of the tape, I feel I must share that I’m quite a quiet, at times awkwardish person who suffers from incredibly low self-confidence. Now, this may be slightly misleading as the awkwardness is often in my head and so probably goes unnoticed to those people I am interacting with. And, if you’ve met me, you wouldn’t believe that I was either quiet or had little confidence, but the truth of the matter is that I am and I do.
I’ve never had the ability to make the first move in any situation. (As I'm sure my lovely partner, Clare will attest to.) I’m definitely not the sort of person that can walk into a packed room, stride up to a table full of strangers and go "hi, I’m Mike". Oh, how I wish I could, but it's just not me. What I’m most likely to do is what I did at CofC; I walked into a packed room, sidled up to an empty table and sat and waited in the hope that people were forced to sit with me because there was nowhere else to sit. Luckily, the people that eventually did join my empty table weren’t other ‘mes’. They were quite happy to say hello and introduce themselves, and from that moment on I was absolutely fine. I chatted and listened and hopefully nobody noticed anything too unusual about me. In truth, I had some really interesting conversations because I had something in common with everyone else in the room; we all loved comedy.
I feel a little sorry for those people that don’t like comedy. I can’t imagine my life without it. I’m very lucky as pretty much everyone in my family has a great sense of humour, and laughter has always played a huge part in my life. At the centre of that laughter is my dad, who is a very funny man. He introduced me to comedy from a very early age by giving me access to his Hancock, I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue and Goon Show cassettes. I used to put the Hancock's on before going to bed and eventually knew them off by heart. We also regularly watched TV comedy together, Porridge being our absolute favourite. We knew the episodes backwards and often had competitions on who could best recite some of the lines. I think I finally just edged him on Brian Glover’s line from The Hustler: “that has a riot ‘o colour, and what with his vegetables, she never had to want for nothin'.” I had to get that one in, sorry Dad!
Anyway, I digress. Where was I? Ah, yes. Don’t get me wrong, I still felt very out of place as it seemed like I was the only person there that hadn’t actually done anything of any substance. I have written lots of ideas and even started a few projects, but I’ve never actually finished anything. I have countless pieces of paper and rarely accessed Word docs all over the place with half-formed ideas that I will occasionally find now and again, look at, write a few extra bits and then put them back where I found them. It’s a bit like those chess games that took place by post or CB radio in old films and TV shows. Maybe by 2023 I will have at least finished one of them? Or found out whether it is are raining not in Tokyo. (One for the Hancockophiles.)
So, the question I feared being asked the most was, “what have you written/are you writing?”. I suppose, if I had more confidence, I could have embellished my story slightly and said I’d written far more than I actually had. But, I try to be quite an honest person so I told the truth. I told them the few things I had been working on, but also that I hadn’t done nearly enough but I really wanted to, so I was using Craft of Comedy for the inspiration/motivation I so obviously/desperately needed. My fears were realised as I was asked this question a few times during the weekend, but following my answer guess what, people weren’t patronising or condescending in any way - they were incredibly supportive and offered advice on things to try in order to be more productive.
And that right there is why Craft of Comedy had so many positive recommendations when I looked to learn about it in the first place. I didn't read one bad word about it; just that it was an incredibly collaborative and worthwhile experience. And from my own point of view, I can't disagree with that in any way. It was extremely useful for someone like me. Someone that has a dream somewhere in the back of his head that he can write comedy. But also, someone that doesn't actually believe people like me ever could. Luckily, having spent a weekend with people very similar to myself, I'm starting to question that view. If I really put my mind to it, work hard, give it a really good go and actually finish something, then maybe, just maybe I'll have a chance. Of course, I still need to work out how to somehow gain some self-belief from somewhere, but hopefully with a half-decent finished product that can be worked on.
I realised during the short walk back to where I was staying – an excellent AIRBNB whose details I won’t give as I want to use it again next year! - I’d gone from pretty much dreading the day, to actually being genuinely upset that it was over. I'd been at Venue Cymru for a little under 12 hours, and it had gone by in what felt like about 90 minutes. I was, to borrow a phrase from the 'yoof', absolutely buzzing. (And not just because my 'sad' knowledge of Police Academy movies helped endear me to my quiz and chips teammates – special thanks to Joel Morris for including those questions! Oh, and a quick shout out to the other members of 'David Quantick's Breakfast Chefs!').
As well as 'buzzing', I was also completely wiped out. I hadn't felt tired once all day; I suppose this was because I was hugely engaged with the subject matter and enjoying the company of everyone I spoke with. But about five minutes after walking through the door, a wave of tiredness swept over me. Unfortunately for the aforementioned Clare, I still had just about enough energy to retell her pretty much everything about my day. I went to bed exhausted, but creatively energised. (Wow, I can only apologise for using such a wan*y phrase.)
Day two started with an excellent Full English from The Lemon Tree café. (This post has not been sponsored. However, if they want to offer me a discount next year, I’ll happily accept!) Embodying David Baddiel for a brief moment I tweeted a picture of my breakfast - thankfully, I didn't get a similar number or the sorts of replies to the tweet that he gets. As I started walking back to the Venue I realised the fear wasn't with me this time. Now whether this was down to having spoken to people the previous day and realising how incredibly supportive they all were, or the magical powers of sausage and bacon, I'm not entirely sure; but I felt much better nonetheless.
I’ve taken up far too much of your time already with my ramblings, so I won't recap the whole second day. (Unfortunately Clare wasn’t so lucky!). But all-in-all it was another awe-inspiring experience. I learned something useful from all of the sessions I attended, topped off by watching the excellent, and very funny, Death of Stalin in the company of two of its writers, David Schneider and Ian Martin.
As I walked back to the AirBnB this time, I won’t lie, I was properly emotional. I was sad that it was all over. I’d had two absolutely incredible days, surrounded by some amazingly talented people. And I realised I want to be around these people more. Not just at next year’s conference, which I will definitely be attending, but as friends or ultimately as colleagues. I’ve wasted so much time in my life doing jobs I get hardly any enjoyment from, so imagine getting paid to do something you really love?
I don’t underestimate the task I have in hand, I know how incredibly hard it is going to be to get anywhere, and especially to get to a position where I may be able to do something full-time, but I’m finally going to give it a bloody good go! As with anything, the more you do it, the better you get, so I need to make sure I write as much as possible to get better. I am honestly under no illusions of how tough it is out there. I’ve submitted a fair bit to the BBC’s Newsjack over the last few years to no avail but hearing the quality of the writing I am up against I know I need to raise my game. But I also know that there are other things I will be far more suited to. (If anyone knows Jon Naismith tell him I've got some great stuff for I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue!)
If you have any interest in working in any aspect of comedy I highly recommend getting yourself to Llandudno next June. Not only will you learn a great deal from people that have actually been there and done it, you'll also be surrounded by a wonderful group of immensely talented people who are genuinely willing to offer advice and to help you in any way they can.
And with that in mind, maybe you could help me please? Follow me on twitter, @MikeCooperRP and ask me every now and again what I am writing. Hopefully, the embarrassment of not wanting to reply ‘nothing at the moment, I'm too busy watching Netflix,’ will give me the motivation to write every chance I get!
Thanks for reading; see you at next year’s Craft of Comedy!
Excellent Mike. We'll done and please do write something soon. Must be something you can do based on non league football characters. ☺
ReplyDeleteThank you. Yes, certainly been a few 'characters' at Aggborough over the years!
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