This post has some background on how I wrote my headlining set at Jax Comedy House this past weekend. If you’re not interested in behind-the-scenes info on comedy writing, but you do have 45 minutes to sit down and watch my set, you can just go ahead and click here.
When I was asked to do my first ever comedy show in September 2022, the comedian booking me asked me if I had seven minutes of material.
I said yes.
I wasn’t technically lying. I think by that point I had done three open mics of three minutes each. So I had spent nine minutes onstage. Which is two whole minutes longer than seven. Of course, “having seven minutes” of real material is a whole different thing, but I did not know that at the time.
I had a few months to prepare and I worked hard to develop those seven minutes. The show went well enough and my comedy career kind of took off from there. The very next show I was offered they asked me to do 15 minutes. Once again I said yes. Now, looking back at those first two shows, I really cringe at my performance, but I’m proud of the way I followed through on my promise. Plus, there are a few jokes that I wrote for those shows that I still use in some form.
There have been more moments like that as I’ve worked through my comedy career, like the first time I was asked to do 20 and then 25 and I had to put together sets that reached those numbers. Each time it was a stretch that challenged me to write more, work harder, and become a better comedian.
I turn down a lot of opportunities in comedy because I have two kids, a wife, a job, and other responsibilities and I can’t do every show that I’m asked to do. But the one reason I won’t turn down an offer is if it’s too daunting. If someone asks me to do something I haven’t done before, I’ll always say yes so I can push myself. Of course, there’s a huge risk in doing that. Audience members pay real money to come to shows to see comedians they believe are professionals. Bookers book comedians they believe will come through and make their club look good. So I don’t mean to say that I flippantly agree to things. Instead, I bottle all of that pressure up and use it as fuel to do the best job possible.
So, when I was asked to headline at Jax Comedy House in Rockwall, TX a few months ago I was pretty stunned. Headlining a club, even a newer one out in Rockwall, was not on my radar. Headliners are the people who spend all their time at comedy clubs, who suck up to club owners and bookers, and who have put in thousands of hours at open mics. They feature for big out-of-town acts for years before they finally get a chance to headline somewhere. I don’t mean to say any of that dismissively, but it’s generally true that the people who get an opportunity like that follow that trajectory.
That’s not been my path in the comedy world. I genuinely thought it was a mistake when I was asked, but I didn’t correct the booker or question her judgement. I said yes I was available and would love to do the show. I figured she was using the term “headliner” loosely and meant that I would be closing out a showcase-style show with 4-5 other comedians on it. I thought I’d do 25-30 minutes maximum.
Then the show poster came out and I was the only one on it. When she said “headline” she meant “Headline.”
I immediately realized I had work to do. I knew this might be my last show in DFW, so I wasn’t going to chicken out at all. If they booked me to headline, I wanted to do a true headlining set. That meant 40-45 minutes. That meant bearing the entire responsibility for giving people their money’s worth. And these tickets weren’t cheap, they were $25 a piece after fees.
I’ve seen a lot of comedy in my life and the one big difference I’ve seen between a true headliner doing a 40-60 minute set and a decent comedian filling that same amount of time is that a headlining set feels like one big sequence of jokes that flow together, while a decent comedian is just doing every joke they have to get to 40 minutes. They might all be funny jokes, but as an audience member it can be hard to follow and feels more tiring jumping from joke to joke. Also, a lot of comedians pad their time with extended crowd work. Sure, some are great at it, but I can’t stand the “what do you do for a living? Are you two together?” inane crowd work that so many comics do. It’s not my thing. If I’m going to do a 35-40 minute set, it’s going to be material, for better or worse.
I wanted to make my set feel like a story, even though I only have 2.5 years of jokes to fill out the time. I started a document on my computer and created joke sections. For each section I put my jokes that worked with that topic under them and put the total time that those jokes equalled in the top section. Then I figured out how I could turn all of this into one big, overarching story that emphasized who I am and what I’m about. As I ran through the set in my head I would see that certain jokes made more sense in different sections, or some just didn’t work at all, and other sections needed some new jokes to more fully round out the theme.
I also realized that it was all fairly random. But then it dawned on me that this is what I’m all about: random obsessions. My ADHD brain has spent my whole life sucking up knowledge about a variety of random topics and I think I’m at my best as a comedian when I’m segueing rapidly between these different topics, but doing it in a way that the audience members can follow along.
I titled my document: Obsessions.
Then I remembered that Jim Gaffigan’s 2014 special was called Obsessed. So I changed it to "Fascinations.”
But now, because I have a flair for the dramatic and I always wished I was a blues guitarist instead of a writer, and I’m calling it “Scott Bedgood’s Mind is Ramblin.”
This was also the name of my first blog that I started in 2013. I’ve been trying to harness this random brain into entertainment for others for a long, long time.
Do normal comedians name their headlining sets? No.
Do normal comedians post their first headlining sets in full on the internet for all to see? No.
Do normal comedians have extended rants about spider webs? No.
But I do.
When I walked off the stage in Rockwall I felt good. The crowd was rocking, engaged, and super fun. Almost every single joke I’d done worked. I didn’t forget anything or stumble over any jokes. It all tied back to itself in the exact way I’d intended it to.
In fact, it all went so smoothly I wasn’t sure how long the set had lasted. I was afraid it had only been 30 minutes.
It was 47 minutes, all material.
I’ve never been more relieved, and proud, of my work than I was that night.
I’ll admit, this post does feel a little bragadocious. I don’t usually talk about my achievements in this way, but this one really took a lot of work, had a lot of pressure, and came out so great that I just want people who support me (dear readers of this newsletter) to be part of the journey with me.
If you don’t have 48 minutes to watch the set that’s totally fine. I’d still appreciate it if you could click the link and watch a few minutes of it and hit the like button. Maybe even comment and subscribe to my channel. Having a video of a headlining set that has many views, likes, and comments would really help me as I branch out into a new comedy scene in the next few months.