Martha O'Neill

This topic has been beaten to death then shoved down our throats like haggis on Robbie Burns Day, but I’m still fascinated with the whole Susan Boyle thing, so off I go…

I must confess, I’ve watched the video about 10 times and still enjoy it, but I can’t figure out why. Why is Susan such a viral hit? What is it about her story that has struck a nerve with people all over the world? And why do people continue to forward it to me like I’m a recluse? You’d think I was a middle aged spinster-virgin with “mother issues” living with my cat in a wee Scottish village… oh wait… never mind.

The cynical part of me is annoyed by the way the producers of “Britain’s Got Talent” manipulated me into feeling this way. The goofy music as we followed Susan backstage before her performance; her “never been kissed” confession; the rolling of the judges eyes during her interview; the cut-aways to the sceptical audience etc; to the reveal that Susan is not, in fact a delusional crazy who’s about to embarrass herself on national TV but a talented singer. Oh, and that song! “I Dreamed a Dream” – autobiographical or cleverly executed choice? But despite all the pre-fabbed build up, I fall for it every friggin’ time, dammit!

There have been copious articles and TV/Radio items dissecting why this Susan thing has become so important – from she’s an every-woman/underdog/Cinderella that we want to see win, to how we (as an audience) are so ashamed about our preconceived idea that she’s a sad, lonely loser, we are overcompensating with our outpouring of love when it turns out she’s a gosh-darned fine talent. And the recession…I’ve heard more than once that Susan’s triumph has helped us feel better during this global financial crisis. Look at Susan – saving us all from ourselves!

I do feel for her. She’s been thrust into the middle of this circus which seems to continue to spiral out of control. I’m sure she’s having the time of her life – interviews, attention, (hopefully an eyebrow wax!), record company interest…but what happens when the (inevitable) crash happens? Susan strikes me as very vulnerable and child-like. Will show business ruin her or fulfill her? Who knows. One thing’s for sure, she’s going to need a lot of people who are looking out for her best interests; not folks riding her coat-tail to fame and fortune.

So, God bless ya, Susan, but I’m off to re-watch the “Stavros Flatley” clip. That’s some funny shit.

Well, that was a wet, weird and fast summer! I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I’ve sent in a column. So this will be a bit of a catch-up more than anything.

I spent most of the summer at cottages (mooching at other peoples, natch), camping and hanging out with the kids. And while I didn’t take an all-out break from comedy, I only did a handful of shows, which is no harm, but it’s taken me a few nights of working out the rust to get back up to speed.

Toronto had the wettest summer on record, though really nothing compared to the many English summers I lived through. And being a glass-half-full kinda gal, am looking forward to our water bill for the first time ever. In yer face sprinkler!

I’m lucky enough to have a sister with a beautiful, brand new cottage plus parents who have a lovely place just an hour from our house, so was away a lot. It’s really great to reconnect with the family and spend some time outdoors. My mother is very ill, however, so though I was glad she was able to spend a fair bit of time with us at the cottage, there was a bittersweet aspect to the whole season.

I went camping twice, too. I’ve only been once before, last summer, so am still a bit confounded by all the crap I have to bring for a three day trip. The first trip this year was to a Provincial Park about two hours north of Toronto. Shane stayed home, so it was just me, the kids, the puppy and a couple of girlfriends and their kids. Both of my friends have campers (one is even older and dodgier than the Chunky Monkey, but at least has beds and a roof). I only have a tent, and of course, managed to forget the friggin’ tent poles. I was so pissed off , I nearly hopped back into the van to make the 4 hour round-trip to pick them up. In the end, though, we McGuyver-ed a semblance of a structure using a bush, a tree, the 30 or so 8-inch ropes that mysteriously came with the tent (I have no idea what their actual purpose is), two butterfly clips and a bungee cord. Of course, it poured that first night. We managed to stay dry, but all of our stuff was soaked. And it didn’t help my spirits when other, random campers would walk by our site and either laugh, take photos or both. Smug bastards. But, in the end it was a really fun few days. I even learned how to play Euchre, though we only had Pirate cards, so the suits were gold coins, parrots, skulls and ships. I have no idea what I’m going to do if anyone wants me to play with actual hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs. For the second trip, I brought both my husband and the tent poles and had a drama-free few days, which was nice.

I bought season’s passes to Canada’s Wonderland, and (predictably) only went once. We plan to go one weekend this fall, when, hopefully there won’t be 90 minute queues for 90 second rides. I’ll be leaving the puppy at home next time. Last time brought her to the Wonderland “kennels”, which were really stainless steel gulag-esque boxes where she was terrified for the four hours she was there. Not sure she’s forgiven me yet. My daughter is keen to get on their new roller coaster, the Behemoth, and I wish her luck. Shane tried parachuting for the first time this summer (a Christmas gift from me, I’m an awesome wife), so may have the guts to join her, but I doubt it. I think he’d rather jump out of a plane again.

Even though I haven’t performed a whole lot this summer, I’ve kept up on the gossip, and am stunned at the weirdness that has befallen our little comedy world. A male comic punching a female comic; a woman audience member punching a performer onstage, then threatening said performer with a broken pint glass and eventually getting clocked by another comic and knocked to the ground. Comics getting horrid hate mail. And this all in the southern Ontario area. Could it be all the rain? If only.

I did participate in Guy Earle’s fundraiser in June. 40 comics doing one minute each in an effort to raise funds for Guy’s legal defence fighting charges at the BC Human Rights Tribunal. I’m sure you’ve all heard about it. I only know what happened to Guy through media coverage and talking to the man himself. I took part because I strongly believe that a comic in a club should be able to say what he wants from the stage, safe from any legal or governmental ramifications. Whether is funny, relevant, insulting or idiotic is not the point. The night itself was really well run, shocking actually – I thought it would probably be a mess, and had a great time. I even got a t-shirt with my name on the back (O’Neill spelt wrong, however). I can’t wear it anywhere, because on the front it says “It’s not illegal to be an asshole”. Part of me would love to wear it for the school run. Oh, the scandal!

So that’s my summer in nutshell. The fall is looking busy, both for the family and for me. I’ve booked in to do two weeks at Absolute Comedy in November; one in Toronto, one in Ottawa. I’ll be MC’ing both weeks, which I’m really looking forward to. Next thing is to try to get some tour dates booked and send in my stuff for the Festivals. Big learning curve ahead, but I’m ready.

Air smooches and awkward hugs,

Martha

So, the daily blog is coming to an end. I’m truly sorry to hear it, but understand the amount of work that goes into it – hell, my once-every-seven-days column keeps me on my toes as it is. This will be my last weekly offering, though I do plan to contribute on a semi-regular basis. I do hope all of Andrew’s readers check in often and read whatever falls out of his head and onto the screen. I know I will.

A friend of mine refers to a horrible set as “shitting the bed”. As in, “I shit the bed at such-and-such venue tonight”. I love it; what a poetic yet accurate way to label death on stage. I’ve adopted it and unfortunately had to use it last week to describe a set at the Fox and Fiddle which still makes me cringe.

I’m always amazed by the comics who can shrug off these experiences like they’re no big deal. Now either they are amazingly confident or aren’t fussed about the public humiliation or lying. I suspect in many cases it’s the latter. However, I hate, hate, hate shitting the bed. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, ouch! A sage friend of mine (yes, you Jason…) said to me, if we don’t have bad sets, how will we learn? I suppose it’s true, but I think I learn every time I step foot on stage; good, bad, mediocre. All I get from a truly bad set is thicker skin. But my skin is pretty thick already, rather unpleasantly unladylike thick, really.

But to not care at all? Couldn’t do it. Though there does seem to be some sort of comics code where one’s not supposed to walk around and say to each other; “Holy crap, I sucked”. Maybe it’s so that we don’t have to acknowledge to the suck-ee that yes, I concur, you were awful. Or maybe it’s showing weakness and lack of cool. Dunno. Frankly, lack of cool is my forte, so I’m not fussed, but I do tend to keep my writhing to myself more and more. There are a few people that I can safely moan to, but beyond that I’ve learned to keep schtum.

Since we’re all friends here, I’ll share an embarrassing little quirk I have. I always mentally rate my set after I get off stage. Like I’ll think, well that was a 6 or an 8 or a 4, but last week was a big fat 1. It would’ve been a zero, but for the lovely girl who came up to me after and said “I really enjoyed your set”. I wanted to both kiss her and smack her upside the head. It was a strange moment.

The quality of my sets seems to have taken on a pattern. Peaks and valleys. I’ll shit the bed, then have a decent set, then one that’s better, ‘til I’m doing well again. Then I’ll have a “meh” set, then another, then shit the bed again. Then back up the mountain. I’m sensing that my doing well phases are a lot longer now, the so-so sets are more solid, and generally only bottom out once before pulling out of it. Does this happen to other comics? Wish I knew. And maybe I’ll break out of this cycle; perhaps only suck during eclipses or when Canada wins an Olympic gold. But until that happens, I’ll keep a spare set of sheets in my car.

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW! And thanks so much for allowing me to write on these pages. It’s been fun.

Disclaimer: I put my back out earlier in the week, and then actually SCRATCHED MY EYEBALL on a houseplant whilst picking up puppy poop. My point being that I’m going to keep it short this week, if for no other reason than I’m in pain and feeling sorry for myself.

Had an interesting e-conversation with a friend earlier in the week. He’s been doing stand up for about as long as me and is around the same place as I am career-wise. We were back-and-forthing about money for gigs; i.e. should we be taking freebies at clubs, especially shows where we have to drive (therefore spend $$ on gas etc), even if it means extended stage time in front of a big audience. Which got me thinking how crazy this whole business is. Because, unless you are headlining or doing corporate gigs, the most you’ll make for an out-of-towner barely covers the getting there and back – if you’re lucky.

I don’t entirely blame club owners/bookers for this low-pay cycle – why pay more when you can get any number of comics who’ll work for beer or less? Even if paying a decent scale would be the right thing to do, what sane business person would pay more than they need to? On the other side of the coin, we comics are equally culpable – so eager to perform, so passionate about comedy that we jump at the chance to get decent stage time at all.

Now, I’m not counting the numerous open mics. They are free for the audience and therefore the comics are not obliged to put on a club show; these are work-out rooms and the audience (should) know this. Yet these are 5-7 minute lumps of time. How do we put together 20-30 minutes, then 45 minutes in 5-7 minute bites? We go to the clubs and do longer sets for beer or nothing at all. Of course, there are some good gigs out there, I’ve played them – but it’s hit and miss in the booking of them.

I ran a sweet little room for a while. It was a nice spot and was really gaining momentum when the owner sold up and I had to close. It was different than most rooms in that I charged the audience at the door and then paid every booked comic $10 and bought them a drink. My thinking was that the audience will value a show if they’ve paid to get in, and the comics will bring their A-game. The room held around 40 people at capacity, though at most usually only had 20-30 paying customers. I got about $7/head – so made around $150-200 a night. But I had 6 comics to pay and though I got a discount on the drinks, was usually out about $13 per comic (i.e. $80). So, on a good night, I’d walk away with $70 + at the end of the night (which went straight to the babysitter and our tab – my own stuff, I know, but still…). If the audience was small, I’d be out of pocket – but this, to me didn’t matter. It was important to pay everyone who worked the night. The reason it was important to me, however, is that I am a comic and understand that even a token payment for 10 minutes in a wee room should be the norm, not the exception. If only we could somehow make this work in real life. Because, truly, 20-30 minutes of comedy at a comedy club should cost more than what two audience members paid to get in.

**Disclaimer disclaimer: I realize that I did not, in fact, “keep it short” this week. Just shows that even in pain, I love a good rant.

How does Pride and Prejudice start? “It is universally acknowledged that a young woman is in want of a good man of considerable fortune…” – or something like that. I could google it, but I’m sure Simon will do that anyway (pretend there’s a winky emoticon here). Well, I think it is also universally acknowledged that being a comic is bloody difficult. More so being a mother. Try being both.

In honour of Mother’s Day (it’s tomorrow, buy yer Mom some bubble bath, pronto), I thought I’d share a glimpse of what it’s like to be a mom and stand up comic. To my knowledge, there are only a handful of us out there. Off the top of my head, I can think of only a dozen or so working regularly in Canada. Obviously, I don’t have intimate knowledge of the whole bleedin’ country, but took who I know and added a few. Clearly, Sally Field’s cinematic oeuvre “Punch Line” did nothing to further the cause.

Now, I know that being a comic isn’t a hard as being, say, a surgeon or school teacher. There are many professions that require tons of education, skill and perseverance, but stand up has its own set of challenges. The unsocial hours, the travel, the writing, the just getting up there and laying yourself open to a group of 10-200 strangers, usually semi or full out drunk ones, trying to entertain and make them laugh. It can be emotionally, as well as physically draining.

But being a mom is waaaay trickier. The pregnancy is arduous, the delivery a bitch, breastfeeding, lack of sleep, sick kids, discipline, education, scheduling, the constant fear you’re screwing up – all tough on a good day.

I’m lucky in many ways. I have a wonderful husband who (mostly) understands and supports me in my pursuit of a career in stand up. He works very hard and is the breadwinner, but also participates in every aspect of family life. My kids are also great; though not without their challenges (i.e. my daughter has a pretty severe learning disability with which we struggle every day). All, in all, however – I have it pretty good.

Fortunately, comedy, for the most part, happens at night – so I can be there for the kids all day then head out after dinner and homework to do my thing. As a result, however, I’m dog-tired. Thank god for the invention of naps. But out-of-towners? Doable, yet require organization of mammoth proportions. Touring? Haven’t done it yet, but hope to soon. How? Haven’t a clue. But I do know it’ll be down to me to cover every minute detail of its planning and execution vis-à-vis the kids, the dog, the household yadda, yadda.

This week is a good example of how crazy my life is. Assume, if you will, that the days have been filled with the school run, the kids, extra-curricular kid-type stuff, minimum 90 mins of supervised homework, shopping, bill paying, cooking etc. Throw into the mix the (adorable yet incontinent) puppy we just added to the family, plus the garage sale we are having this weekend (my idea, I’m an idiot). Then there were the shows, last night’s photo shoot for new head shots, the writing (not much this week, except for this masterwork)… well, you get the picture.

I sometimes wonder if I’m being selfish by doing comedy. Is my desire to succeed affecting the well-being of my family? I like to think that I do a pretty good job balancing it all. My husband and I perhaps don’t get enough “couple” time, but we try. My kids are loved excessively, well fed, nurtured and are mighty cool little people in their own right. And I feel proud that my kids will grow up seeing me passionately following my dreams and that they should too, no matter what those dreams may be.

So happy Mothers Day to all who qualify. My plans for Sunday? Nothing…for as long as I can get away with it. Monday will come quickly enough.