I went to see/hear In Conversation with Sarah Silverman at TIFF2015. I asked the last audience question. I held my hand up pretty much the entire time from when they asked for audience questions until the end. The main reason I did that by the way is because I recently read that book Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg and I didn’t want to be the chick who put her hand down.
Anyway I was so nervous because right before the journalist/host asked for a ‘great’ question. I felt the pressure but I had the mic already so good or not I was going to ask my question. I had a couple of questions in mind. I stood up in front of a room full of strangers and said I was a comedian. Then, I said: not that I get paid or anything but I still go…(giggle) so that’s good. My question for her was: What was the worst time you bombed and how did you recover err how long did it take for you to recover? She seemed really kind and gracious when she answered my question. I mean she actually looked at me. I tried to stay present and actually hear what she was saying. She told the story of when she used to do “prom sets”. I don’t remember what she said word for word or anything but I’m sure it’s gonna be out there somewhere.
I was still in shock that I admitted that I was a comedian. I just didn’t want to be the chick who says her life story and then doesn’t ask a question. The thought did cross my mind to ask her how to get a script to Judd Apatow but I went against that instinct. I mean, I don’t know if I am truly a comedian. Maybe I would categorize my comedy stylings as being a humorist. I like the ring of humorist better than comedian. But I don’t know. I just have so many anxieties that have built up over the years. Plus when I’m nervous I get all splotchy and gross. Recipe for kickass writer, though.
I actually was present enough to hear the story about the guy who called into the Howard Stern show and right before Stern hung up on the caller he shouted ‘I exist’. Sarah was talking about that need, that heartbeat running through the majority of people where they feel like the only way to exist is to post a selfie or hasttag this or write a lame ass blog (whoops). I can see the truth to that, I get that part of the reason I do what I do is because I want what I say and do to be heard and to exist. But then again I feel like I know I exist and I don’t really need anyone or anything to remind me of that. It’s just a nice feeling when another person, outside of yourself, acknowledges your presence. Does this make any sense?
Final thought: I really want to believe that good work rises and that that advice applies to me and my creations.
Waking Dreams Up 