Finding Your Comic Voice | Greg Dean Stand Up Comedy Classes


Here’s what I’m after okay? With the ranting especially, this is what I’m really after, okay? You know that voice that goes on in your head all day long, that voice, that little voice in the back of your head that goes on all day long and says all that horrible stuff? Yeah? That’s the real you. [audience laughter] And that’s what I want. When I can get that voice unedited to come out and say all that horrible stuff that you keep editing out, that is your comic voice. That is you because that’s the real you. What you’re giving us is a social facade so people will talk to you. Because if they really knew all that was going on in your head, no one would be around you. [audience laughter] Am I correct?

6 Comments

  1. pretty damn funny just giving instructions. I think I'll get greg's book! I really need to do some of my repressed passions and comedy is definitely one of them. Its pretty fing sad that I've spent so long sitting around feeling sorry for myself and not sharing my hidden talents with others.. so many persuasive excuses sigh.. wait, that wasn't funny and that was my real voice! FU GREG! Oh wait I forgot to mention I like to fantasize about raping little midgets. phew. there we go!

  2. He's actually right.  The thing has been described in different ways.  I like to call this "little guy in the back of your head" my "psychic heckler."  By that, I don't mean that he can read minds or tell the future, just that he's a heckler of the "psyche."  Comedy involves conflict and release.  Without conflict (like the cliched piano falling from the hoist), there's no comedy.  Without release (the piano doesn't hit you but comes awfully damned close) there's no comedy.  And while we talk about the element of surprise, there's a sense in which we are coping with all the pain, humiliation, fear and anger of life by barking at it, like a poodle behind a screen door.  We are taking the stuff that oppresses us and disrupting the narrative.  That's the difference between drama and comedy.  We are "heckling" our demons, much the way those robots heckled the bad movies in Mystery Science Theater.  That's what this "man in the back of your head" is up to.  The unfiltered you is reacting to an often frightening, boring, frustrating world.  We've managed to filter it out and suppress it to the point that we, ourselves, don't always know it's there.  Run into someone who has a condition like Tourette's Syndrome and you discover, fairly quickly, that that part of us was there all along.  Nobody is saying you should run around unfiltered, doing whatever you want, or even that you should run around saying whatever you want.  But comedy is so appealing, so cathartic, so therapeutic, because it provides a space for such anarchy.  We don't have to be good.  We don't have to pretend to be good sports.  We don't have to pretend we didn't mind.  We get to exorcise the demons, not with the angels of our nature, but by revealing the little bastard, scratch that, devil inside.

  3. If I share all the "horrible stuff" that my little voice shares, (1) I will embarrass myself, (2) I will sadden my audience, and (3) I will NEVER get gigs.

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