Stand-up comedy is a bizzare career. It’s equal parts art, therapy, improv, and chaos with a mic. When you start, you think it’s all about being funny — and sure, that’s the goal. But along the way, you’ll discover things no one warned you about.

Open mics are wild. They’re part performance, part group therapy, and part fever dream hosted in the back of a brewery with one working mic and a light controlled by someone named Devin. But here’s the secret: they’re also incredible.

Ah, the age-old question that haunts every open micer as they sip their two-drink minimum: Will I ever make money doing this? Short answer? Yes. Longer, more honest answer? Yes, but probably not how you think.

Hello, my little laugh-seekers! Today we’re talking about a topic that’s near and dear to my heart—handling critics. Oh, and by “critics,” I mean anyone who thinks they have an opinion worth listening to but wouldn’t know talent if it tap-danced naked on their front lawn.

Ah, hecklers. The human equivalent of a speed bump on the road to comedy greatness. You’re up there, giving the people laughter, joy, and a reason to put down their phones for five minutes, and BOOM—some dude named Chad, three drinks in, decides he’s the real star of the show.

For us comedians, YouTube is a double-edged sword—a stage that’s always open, but one that’s forever unforgiving. So, should you put your act on YouTube? Let’s break it down, honey.

You’re in it for the love, right? The applause, the craft, the chance to have strangers cackle at your pain. But let’s not kid ourselves—you’re also wondering, when do I start making money doing this?

The secret to promoting yourself and getting noticed is simple: Be bold, be consistent, and be you. Everyone has a unique sparkle—don’t be afraid to let yours shine.

Ah, the two-year mark in comedy. It’s a tricky milestone, isn’t it? By now, you’ve likely moved past the sheer terror of your first open mic (or fifty) and maybe even scored a few laughs that weren’t from your mom in the back of the room. But where should you be?

You know that moment when you stumble across a premise so funny, you laugh out loud in public, and people look at you like you’ve just confessed to loving pineapple on pizza? (Which, for the record, I do—judge me.) You think, “This is it! This joke is going to kill on stage. It’ll be my new closer.” And then... it doesn’t work. Not once.