Reflections from Tour

Eight shows, Eight Days, Five Cities

I’m back in New York after finishing the first leg of my February tour (as you’re reading this, I’m on a plane to Palm Springs, but that’s beside the point).

Last week took me through Denver, Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, Boston, and Chicago. Here’s what I learned from eight shows in eight days:

It was too much

This schedule was too taxing. I’ve written in other tour reflection posts to avoid flying into a city the day-of the show, yet I did exactly that for every city except Boston.

That’s simply not good for your body, your sleep, your health, and therefore, your show. I found my limit, and I don’t want to do it again. I pulled it off by doing nothing but setting up the show and sleeping, but I will not repeat it.

What’s that, you say? My upcoming schedule has me doing four shows in four cities in four days? Yes, but that was already scheduled so…I’ll be making adjustments later.

In the meantime, get tickets here.

Condensing your schedule limits your expenses

There is a logic to this—the less time you spend on the road, the less money you spend.

Self-producing a tour follows a pretty simple formula: Profit = Ticket Sales - Expenses. Keep your expenses low, and you make more money. Less time on the road means fewer meals, Ubers, and nights of lodging.

Being on the road is great, though–in every city, I had people come back who had seen me before. That’s an amazing positive for my brand and career.

Sweat the small things, sweat the big things

I print papers that I give to the audience on heavy card stock.

While the weight of the paper won’t make or break the show, flimsy paper can add distraction. And you need to discern when you should be caring about small things, like paper, and big things, like eye contact and connecting with your audience.

They both matter, but at different times.

If your show went really poorly, it probably wasn’t because of the wrong kind of paper. But, if flimsy paper cost you valuable seconds as the audience member fumbles to find a writing surface, you lose valuable seconds of your show.

Big and small changes are both important. Know when to prioritize each one.

I’m getting more scripted

I found a lot of great lines this week that I ad-libbed. And this is why I do the reps. Even when a show is average, a single new line can tighten the next show. I am continually raising my baseline. That’s not a small thing.

Figure out where your stress is coming from

A ton of my stress, I realized, was coming from one pre-show routine—I asked the audience to think of memories, write them down, and put them in a box. I was asking a ton of the audience, and the payoff wasn’t much better than the same version I can do without any pre-show work.

My “North Star” is Edinburgh Fringe, where pre-show windows don’t exist (The audience arrives five minutes before the show begins).

Therefore, I’m going to cut any pre-show work and focus all my effort on memorizing names — it is cleaner and more effective.

I’m psyched because I think it’s going to seriously minimize my stress going into LA, San Diego, and San Francisco.

I’m trying to find a finale without memorizing names

Memorizing names is an excellent finale, and I still plan on doing it in Edinburgh, but it requires a specific room layout. In Chicago, the tables were too tight to navigate without being awkward.

So, I ditched it, knowing that I had a strong enough ending without it.

The show must be good enough to stand without the “warm-up” of meeting every guest individually. That comes from stage presence and strong material.

I ask a lot of my audience

I open my show by asking a stranger to come on stage without knowing what will happen. Another person puts a needle in my mouth. Another person leaves the theater and goes to the bathroom for an “adventure.”

It’s not lost on me that I ask the audience for a lot. In shows with slightly lower energy, it can seem like I’m forcing the audience to placate me, which is the last thing I ever want to do.

My goal for the next leg of the tour is to generate instant trust.

I would never take advantage of someone or embarrass them. But it’s an interactive show, and interactions should feel like positive collaboration, not a chore.

It’s tough on your own

Acting as the performer, stage manager, and producer is difficult.

In the future, I’d probably budget to have someone travel with me to minimize how much logistical work I need to do.

For now, it’s good to accept help when people offer. Let someone grab your bag for you. Let someone help you clean up.

Time to watch tape

I’m going to watch tape of my show, but I’ll do it strategically.

Rather than watching it all from front to back, I’ll watch the same section of each show in different cities.

This allows me to see variations in my script in tight succession, and gives me a much deeper understanding of a particular routine.

It’s good to think in legs

I wrote about this in Edinburgh—some people consider the ideal cadence to be a show with one to two days off in between—which actually gives you time to make adjustments.

For me, I like thinking in legs. I did one leg of the tour, I now have a week and a half to fix it.

Then, I’ll have another few weeks before I do a series of shows in Denver and New York.

After that, I’ll approach festival season. May is San Diego Fringe. June is Denver and Hollywood Fringe. And August is Edinburgh.

I’ll get distinct legs to adjust the show every time, which is incredibly helpful, and for me, far more productive than an unending run where focus is consumed by daily travel logistics and not the actual show.

Going forward

Next week takes me to Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Francisco. New York and Denver follow soon after. You can get tickets to everything here.