I don’t know, man. It felt pretty good. I sat there on a stool, looking out at nine other people, as I declared, “You guys, I don’t have anything prepared. I don’t know what to say.” A funny thing happened. I kept saying things and kept saying them for the next ten minutes.
I didn’t have anything prepared, and I spun some yarn and shared some stories and observations. And guess what? I did pretty darn well!
Sure, it was a supportive and safe crowd look, if you want to know about my murdering father, show me one titty first. I’m not saying it was my best work, but I sat there and told a story and… it felt pretty natural. It felt good.
I think I’m going to try it again. There’s an open mic up the street from where I live—I’ve been a lurker there for a year I think it’s probably time I got up and did the scary thing and see how it goes…