When I walked into my first Sunday stand-up class, I had no idea it would change my life.
A year and a half later, I was ready to leave my plans behind and commit to my dream of being a professional stand-up comedian — so much so that I moved from bustling Berlin to my suburban West London childhood home.
I hoped being in the orbit of the clubs that launched my favorite entertainers would make it easier to land gigs with real progression and fill me with inspiration, all while being able to worry less about money and live at home in the mecca of English comedy.
However, returning home at 26 after eight years of independence was a challenge. Three and a half years later, there are a few things I wish I had considered before the move.
There’s more opportunity in London, but also more limitations and competition
Mia Minkova
A metropolis like London is full of potential opportunities, whereas a smaller scene can often have more accessible ones. What Berlin lacked in clear-cut paths to a professional comedy career, it made up for by offering me significantly easier chances to practice.
This was largely due to the city’s smaller size. I’d spend maybe half an hour each way traveling to shows, if not less, and didn’t have to seek out “bringers” (audience members comedians bring in exchange for getting stage time — common in big cities like London and New York).
It also felt easier to get booked for longer sets, leave as soon as I was done, or socialize after a show. Supporting new acts on the main stages, such as the legendary Cosmic Comedy, was also common.
Home in London, I’m connected to the network of one of the world’s great entertainment capitals and more opportunities. However, they’re pretty spread out — and I now often spend way more time (sometimes up to five hours total) traveling to and from performances.
I’m also dealing with more competition (not that it doesn’t push me to improve), and the admin involved in booking spots in new places does take away from time I used to dedicate to writing.
I’ve gotten used to putting on a brave face even after I’ve bombed on stage or received a rejection
Mia Minkova
Failure is an intrinsic part of success, especially with stand-up comedy. You try a joke, and it bombs. You travel hours and hours to perform a show for free to barely a handful of people. Within the industry, these are known pain points, for better or worse.
I’ve recognized that pursuing a career in comedy can involve a lot of rejection and many public mistakes or disappointments. However, my family hasn’t, and they worry about me.
It can be hard to live with parents who have only ever seen you excel academically, and therefore struggle to understand why you’d trade that certainty for an artistic path of highs and lows — especially when they immigrated for a better life, and yours can seemingly be full of obstacles.
From the outside, I see how my path to this dream job can seem a little harrowing. When parents were a phone call away, it was much easier to uphold a fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude.
Face-to-face, it’s hard for me to hide my low moments after a not-so-great gig or rejection email. I miss being able to wallow a bit without the fear of worrying someone else.
It’s been hard to find privacy and deepen my personal relationships
People often ask how living with my parents affects my private life. Well, I’ll say this: I’m currently single. Out of choice (I didn’t say whose choice).
I’m lucky to say I’ve never felt awkward going out on dates. Of course, bringing anyone home is a different matter. C’est la vie.
Ultimately, I’ve prioritized my dream career over dreams of living in a rom-com. I don’t believe that all art must come from heartbreak, but the thrill of romance is undeniable, and it is a fire that’s become a little harder to kindle.
My friendships have also been affected, as most of my friends don’t live nearby. Girls’ nights have dwindled, though having stand-up obligations in the same evening window certainly hasn’t helped.
Unfortunately, it’s taken me a long time to realize that having a rich private life is essential to making art. In some ways, writing was easier when I had a more booming social calendar.
There are certaintly perks, but I ultimately underestimated some of the costs of living at home as an adult
Mia Minkova
I’m grateful to have lived rent-free for several years. It’s given me a creative runway to instead put my money into improv courses, writing classes, and even into my first full split bill at the Edinburgh Fringe — a massive comedy festival.
I’ve also been able to start doing spots at London clubs championing new acts, and I don’t take these opportunities lightly. However, I’m ready to stand on my own again.
I’m looking for a stable day job so I can move out — ideally somewhere in London closer to the action — and keep doing comedy.
My creativity needs room to make mistakes, and I want a space where I can make them.
Some say comedy is tragedy plus time, but I tried to rush the clock by moving home. Next time, I’d be more patient. Berlin gave me plenty of stage time, and I’m not sure I appreciated it.
