I answer by saying “Hello, this is Matt,” and a determined older woman begins telling me that she spoke with Jeff, and he recommended that she call Molly at this number, and then mentions where she is calling from. None of those names are familiar to me, but it’s possible she had the right number still, as again, I’m a temp and this is a big company. I casually mention (casually) that I am aware of that, as I saw the area code and grew up in that area.

After a little bit more discussion of what she was searching for (someone to help her open theater space in western PA and northern West Virgina), she tells me she was a stage actress for 30 years. It’s clear at this point she has the wrong number (because of the thing with the non-entertainment office stuff and suchess), but because I have to make everything about me, I give her this news while mentioning that I am a comedian-slash-actor-slash-wrists.

She apologizes for taking up my time, but then says, out of nowhere “best of luck to you. I was 30 when I started my career and a lot of people told me I couldn’t be successful at it in the beginning. But I didn’t take no for an answer because I’m Irish, and I wound up having a wonderful 32 year career, performing all over the world. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t do something…stick with it and keep pushing ahead.”

Key points:
1) I turn 30 next month, which has been putting me in a career crisis mentality for months
2) I’m Irish

I needed a pep talk like this pretty badly, as my mental state has been abysmal in recent weeks. She could have been lying for all I know, but that doesn’t matter. We get what we need out of stories, and we take what we find useful from the things people tell us. There was a lot of useful information in her words for me.

So thank you, Elderly Woman Behind The Telephone In A Small Town. Your career may be winding down, but I’m hoping you helped someone else push theirs a little bit further along.

I just realized I never asked her for her name.

In 2007, I got a job paging at The Late Show with David Letterman. A friend who was already there passed along my resume, and after a couple interviews, I got the job. I started on January 2, and in March, worked up the courage to introduce, and pitch, myself to the head monologue writer. He was incredibly kind and gracious, and told me to keep in touch, as there wasn’t any room on the freelancer’s list. After a few months, he let me know there was an opening, and that I should send in a sheet of current event jokes for the monologue. He approved them, and I started the day after. Three weeks later, I got my first joke on the air. It was thrilling.

I kept up with the monologue for the next year. During that time, a friend of mine that was also a page at Letterman left to work at Saturday Night Live. She was also an incredibly gracious person, and put me in touch with the head of Weekend Update. Same situation: email, sheet of jokes, I started the next week.

Look, I know you want to do it, and i wish you nothing but the best of luck. You’re probably awesome, or on your way to being awesome. Here’s why I can’t get you a job:

1) I don’t know you. This entire industry is built around getting to know people, so those people can represent you to the people that make the decisions for the things you want to do. Even if you’re great, I know 30 amazing comedians that I am friends with, and if I’m in a position to help someone, I’ll probably help my friends. I hope that if you find yourself in my position, you’d help your friends too. That’s the beauty of this business, that you can actually help your friends get ahead.

2) I don’t even have a job writing for late night anymore. I never got a joke on Weekend Update. Frustrating, but it happens. I was let go at the beginning of the 2009-2010 season. At the same time, Late Show cut their entire freelance staff. I’m back on the outside once again, trying to find a way in, just like you.

I hope this helps you in some capacity. It’s going to help you to start doing it on your own so you have material on hand to prove you know how to do it before you even get the opportunity. It’s also going to help to move to either New York or Los Angeles and find a way to get close to the shows. I KNOW that sucks to hear, but again, that’s my advice because that’s how I did it.

Now go forth, and create great work!

I’m now part of a really fun sketch group called Mister Clark. This is our first video, with more shot, more planned, and a stage show in the works. WOW, when you say it that way we sound like The Partridge Family.

Apparently I’m a shitty roommate.

The mic cord falls out twice (TWICE!) during this set. Other than that, it was a great crowd. A test run for my mother’s Flip cam; it performed OKAY.

Right before I took the stage, TJ (the host) presented me with a screener VHS copy of an old Bob Odenkirk pilot I lent him in 2005, which I try to make in to a joke before the cord falls out the first time. The mic also seemed MUCH louder live than it does on camera.

Matt Little on WFMU’s 7 Second Delay Live!

First off, I did not even get a callback this year, after getting one the year before, after not getting one the first year I auditioned.

And I’m perfectly okay with it. I was very happy with my audition; I thought I did great. I went in wanting to do two things: focus on the first three lines of my scene, and expand my world from there, and make my scene partner look good. I think I did both. I know I did the first one, and my second scene partner, who I did not know, complimented me in ways that made me feel like I accomplished my second goal.

I went in and pleased the most important person I have to please – myself. So I didn’t succeed in an audition. That just means that I have one more thing in common with every person I look up to in comedy.

Last year, I was super-stressed about how my callback went, and it was all because I didn’t perform in a way that I was happy with. Instead I played from a place of nervousness and uncertainty, and that’s not me. I felt like I let myself down, and questioned my talents as an improviser.

This year, I am not letting this setback question my abilities. I’ve heard TOO MANY TIMES, from TOO MANY PEOPLE, including decision makers at UCB, that I am GOOD. VERY GOOD at this. I’m also a member of a team that I am consistently told is a favorite of LOTS of people (Thank You, Robot, if you do not know). And I’m going to ignore all that because TWO scenes didn’t make 4 people laugh as much as I hoped they would?

Let’s break down the actual stats of the first round process at UCB from this year – there were 470 people who were eligible to audition and did. Of those, we know that there will be 64 callbacks. That is a 14% chance of making it to the next round, ASSUMING that you have two good scenes at the RIGHT EXACT TIME on the RIGHT EXACT DAY. You could have an awesome set right before your audition, and then have two crap scenes in the room. That’s the danger and excitement of improv – we don’t know what is going to happen on stage. FURTHERMORE, if you are part of that lucky 14% that advances to the next round of auditioning, there are only going to be, what, 16-20 spots open? And that’s probably being generous most years. You still have to have another GREAT SET at the EXACT RIGHT TIME OF DAY on the EXACT RIGHT DAY. Again, you could be dominating a stage at The Creek, then go to your audition and have a shaky set. We all have good and bad sets; it’s science. But do you understand how much the odds are stacked against EVERYONE that walks in there?

I don’t want to sound like I question the process they have in place, because I don’t. This is the MOST democratic way they could possibly judge talent for Harold night, given how large the community has become.

UCB is a high-profile stage, with a fun community surrounding it. But they created that by venturing out and doing their own thing. It wasn’t always an institution. You can do that too. I know you can because my improv team did it. We started our own show, and MADE ourselves a weekend team. Sure it’s only 2 Fridays a month, but it’s still a great time.

I’m not saying “get over it,” because that’s a little insensitive. Sure, it stings, it’s rejection. But don’t STEW in it. Don’t let yourself think you suck because of this process. Don’t dismiss every compliment you’ve been given by friends and colleagues. You are great! Use that knowledge to push yourself to MAKE THINGS HAPPEN FOR YOU. Go start a team and have some fun doing improv on your own. If you’re on a team, start your own show – THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A BETTER TIME FOR INDEPENDENT IMPROV IN NEW YORK CITY. Treat your show like it’s the best way that performers and audience alike could spend their time, then MAKE THAT TRUE. Try to get it listed in major event publications like Time Out, or The Onion. Scramble to get press. Tape your shows and put them online. Sure, there’s more work involved in doing it on your own, and it’s a tough process, but HONEST TO GOD, that’s only going to make you better at all aspects of showbiz. Plus, a few years from now when you have more important live shows where other people take over the (UGH!) marketing duties, and something should go wrong, you’ll know how to help fix it. Take control of your career.

Don’t be a target. Targets are sedentary; they sit and wait for things to happen to them. Be a weapon. Weapons are active; they move, they seek out what they want, and they attack it.

Be a weapon.

PS – if you go to Harold night after this, PLEASE don’t judge new performers as to whether or not you’re better than them. That’s the first step down the path of bitterness, and you don’t want to be that person. The fact that they’re on a Harold team and you are not has nothing to do with them. Instead, try to be happy that they accomplished a goal that you also hoped to accomplish, because then people are more likely to feel that way when it happens for you. Love breeds love.

My improv group Thank You, Robot is celebrating our 3rd anniversary as a team this week here:

For almost two years now, Thank You, Robot’s sole regular gig has been as hosts of our show Summer Fridays at Under St. Marks Theater. We took the slot over from the dearly departed UCB Harold teams fwänd and Tantrum, and I like to think we’ve done a pretty good job of holding down a prime-time slot at one of the highest profile non-school improv theaters in the city (was that a lot of qualifiers?). Our very first show as a team was on that stage, and in fact, at a fwänd/Tantrum show. We performed a La Ronde, a form where the opening involves a revolving cycle of two quick scenes for each performer as a specific character, then the remainder of the show pushing those characters together into scenes. Both teams did a really great job of making us feel like we BELONGED there. That we were there for the final Tantrum show, in June 2008, which ALSO took place in that slot, was an honor for us.

We like to believe we put on the type of show that doesn’t happen at other indie venues. Of course, none of that would be possible without the help of other people.

Katey Healy-Wurzburg has been our tech person for the entire run of our show. That someone would be as dedicated to a show that doesn’t have much to offer back as she has is a gift that we don’t take lightly. She’s really great at calling shows as well. There have been times where we wanted to get one or two more moves in before the blackout, but I think that just means we’ve been doing OUR job well, because there are shows where her blackouts are mercy killings. She has a sharp eye for what works and what doesn’t work, and where the peak of tying together all our nonsense arrives. Her post-show notes are always great, and she does a tremendous job of keeping us prima donnas out of our heads after particularly bad shows. Summer Fridays wouldn’t be what they are without her.

Heidi and the staff at Under St. Marks have also done a great job of tolerating us and keeping our audiences well-lubricated. That they have been patient with us throughout some behind the scenes messes we’ve created, and still allowed us to have this show, is nothing short of incredible. Heidi, in particular, has come through for us on many occasions, and thankfully has enough screws loose that she’s asked us to work with her on other shows that Horse Trade (the company that owns USM) puts on.

We’ve lost members over the last three years, which always left me in a state of panic, assuming that whichever person leaving was going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, bringing down the team. That this has never happened is wonderful. Again, thanks to the members of TYR for not letting my madness drag you down. That we’ve been together for three years as a team, with no backing from any theater group, is something I’m damn proud of.

Finally, I just want to say thanks to the other members of the New York improv community. Thanks for making TYR feel like we belong. Thanks for coming out to our shows. Thanks for sticking around afterwards. Thanks for laughing with us when things go well, and thanks for the accurate assessments when things don’t. Thanks for asking us to do shows. Thanks for telling other people about us. Thanks for making the members of this team feel like we have a skill to do something about which we’re all so passionate. Thanks for just being a great goddamn group of people. The difference between the stand-up community and the improv community is STAGGERING, and stand-ups could learn a fucking thing or two about support from you guys. I hope you can all celebrate with us tonight.

My improv group Thank You, Robot is celebrating our 3rd anniversary as a team this week here:

Each day this week I will be talking about a different member of the group, and why I love them as performers. Today: John Robert Wilson.

JR is, in my mind, a wildcard, and I mean that in the best way possible.

JR posing as his character from UCBW. In his head is only one word – “GAMECUBE!”

When people say ‘wildcard’ in improv, they often use it with a negative connotation, and I think that may be because often people who play wildly can’t back it up. The reason their crazy, hilarious idea or character is often found wanting is because that person doesn’t have the skills to keep it focused. Not JR. He creates stuff out of left field, because he initiates first, then lets his mind catch up to what he’s doing. He trusts himself that he can deliver on whatever he’s promised the audience in that first or second line, and he’s right to do so, because he can.

He also is never NOT having fun on stage. He will make himself Swamp Thing in a scene, just because. He revels in the idea that you can create anything in improv as long as you sell it, which is why you will often see him as some type of mad scientist, wizard, mythological monster, or…well, Swamp Thing. It’s infectious and exciting. So often, we get bogged down by all the notes and instruction we’re given and forget that this is supposed to be fun. JR reminds me of that all the time.

Even though he always has fun, JR is also dedicated to working hard at improving. I believe that performing is fun, but it’s much more fun when you’re GOOD AT IT, and I know JR feels the same way. When we practice, he’s usually the first person to volunteer for whatever exercise we’re doing, even if we’ve never seen it before. Even during practices where we all feel like we’re failures as performers, JR is still the first one to bounce back and try again. That also goes a long way towards keeping me out of my own head, which is where I often find myself if I am not sleeping and am still breathing.

The guy is also one of the best straight men I’ve worked with. When he plays straight man, he’s hilariously unflappable. Once in a scene, he was, apropos of little else in the scene, accused of hoarding hobgoblins in his basement. His reaction was, dead faced, “guilty as charged.” He then launched into his sane reasoning for doing so, which made enough sense that I wanted to get a basement and some hobgoblins later.

If I had to sum him up in three words, they’d be: wildcard, fun, dedicated.

If I had to sum him up in three songs, they’d be these (right click to save):
The Rentals – Waiting
Lo-Fidelity Allstars – Cattleprod
Das Racist – Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell (Wallpaper. RMX)

Visit JR on the web:
www.johnrobertwilson.com

My improv group Thank You, Robot is celebrating our 3rd anniversary as a team this week here:

Each day this week I will be talking about a different member of the group, and why I love them as performers. Today: Jeremy Bent.

I will posit this: the only reason Jeremy Bent hasn’t taken over the world is either because it’s not worth it to him, or he is just that benevolent.

Jeremy (front) rocking “Brandy” by Looking Glass, backed by Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. For reals! He was so good, Ted kicked himself out of the band, and they’re now known as Jeremy Leo and the Pharmacists.

He’s also great at tying our insanity together. Where we’re a bunch of flapping walruses onstage, silently panicking about what we’re doing, he pulls it together with one line. Jeremy sees the logic in whatever is happening, and grounds it in a way that doesn’t take the fun out of what is happening, but instead makes it more relatable, and thus, more interesting.

For as logical as he can play, he also knows how to make a scene explode right out of the gate. His initiations are always clear, dynamic, fun, and exciting. When he steps out and starts a scene with someone else, I find myself cursing the fact that I’m not in that scene, because it looks like so much damn, simple fun. He once started a scene, where someone else came out holding their arm, by revving a chainsaw and saying “that’s why they call me Dr. Chainsaw!” I was squatting in the corner, out of breath from laughter. I know that’s a “you had to be there” moment, but goddamn, I’m glad I’m there any time he performs.

If I had to sum him up in three words, they’d be: brilliant, kinetic, exciting.

If I had to sum him up in three songs, they’d be these (right click to save):
Julian Casablancas – Out of the Blue
Ted Leo – Me And Mia
Talking Heads – Lifetime Piling Up

Visit Jeremy on the web:
goodsongsbadlyrics.tumblr.com

My improv group Thank You, Robot is celebrating our 3rd anniversary as a team this week here:

Each day this week I will be talking about a different member of the group, and why I love them as performers. Today: Seth Lind.

I want you to think of something really strange and funny to say. Something off-the-wall. Got it? It’s still not as clever or creative as whatever Seth will come up with the next time he opens his mouth.

Seth once spent a month doing undercover work in the 1930s as a zoot suit salesman to make his olde-tymey characters more believable.

I get both excited and intimidated to be on stage with him, because I literally never know what’s going to come out of his mouth next. He often starts his characters with some type of physicality, and if his shoulders hunch, or he shifts his body weight down slightly before he opens his mouth, prepare yourself to see and hear something you have never seen or heard before. Seriously, his physicality is awesome. Dude finds ways to make standing still look interesting. He may be my favorite member of the team to sit back and watch from the back line, because I am always surprised, and always laughing when he is performing.

Regardless of how offbeat his characters can be, they’re always honest. He’s versatile, too. He is perfectly capable of playing an incredible straight man, reacting in real and honest ways to whatever bullshit you (meaning ME) might spew out. He isn’t odd for odd’s sake; in fact, there is always a logic to how he is behaving in scenes. That’s what pulls you in, and it’s what makes you want to see more.

If I had to sum him up in three words, they’d be: madgenius (yes, one word), honest, hilarious.

If I had to describe Seth in three songs, they would be these (right click to save):
The Dirtbombs – Chains of Love
Against Me! – Up The Cuts
The Avett Brothers – Kick Drum Heart