Never promise what you can’t deliver

Hey Dave I need some advice… although I think I already know the answer. A booker asked if I could do an hour clean for corporate and 90 minutes for cruises. I’ve got about 40 clean. I already hurt myself recently when someone asked if I could headline an hour and I admitted I was more comfortable featuring. I want to say yes – but I don’t want to disappoint them or damage my reputation. At the same time, I’m worried that if I say no, they won’t call me again. What do you think? – D.

Are you being honest?

Hey D. – You’re right – you do already know the answer. And so does every working comic and talent booker who’s been around the business for more than a few open mics. The only difference is experience makes it easier to trust that answer.

Here’s the reality: nobody in this business wants to lose an opportunity. But one of the fastest ways to do exactly that is by overpromising – or worse, flat-out misrepresenting – what you can deliver.

If a booker tells a client, “This comic can do a clean hour,” that’s not a suggestion. That’s the product being sold. And if you say you can deliver it, it had better be true.

Because if it’s not… everyone loses.

Now, there are exceptions. Some performers can stretch with crowd work and genuinely carry an hour without a fully written set. If you’ve done that successfully before, that’s part of your act.

It could be a bomb!

But if you haven’t? A high-paying corporate show or a first impression with a legitimate booker is not the place to experiment.

For experienced comics, this is obvious. For those coming up, it’s where temptation creeps in.

You’re thinking: If I say no, I might lose the opportunity. But here’s the flip side: if you say yes and don’t deliver, you won’t just lose this opportunity – you’ll likely lose future ones too.

So, what’s the move?

Tell the truth.

A legitimate booker will respect honesty far more than a shaky performance. If they reached out, it means they’re already interested in working with you. This isn’t a “one strike and you’re out” situation – it’s the beginning of a relationship.

Use it.

Let them know what you can do right now. Ask to be considered for shorter sets. Stay in touch. Most corporate shows don’t even need an hour – 30 to 45 minutes is often the sweet spot.

And when you’re ready to deliver a full hour – or 90 minutes – you circle back and let them know.

That’s how careers are built.

Because this is a career. And careers take time.

Developing a strong, clean act for corporate and cruise work doesn’t happen overnight. It takes stage time, discipline, and a clear understanding that there are no shortcuts in this business.

From the booker’s side, I can tell you this: there’s nothing worse than putting a performer on a show who doesn’t deliver. The client is unhappy. The relationship takes a hit. And that comic?

Let’s just say they’re not getting a call anytime soon.

And yes… I learned that the hard way.

Thanks for reading and as always – keep laughing!!

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Running The Light (Going Over Your Time On Stage)

Hey Dave – Without revealing my secret identity, I heard you talking recently about a comedian who went way over his time on stage—and you didn’t sound too happy about it. Safe to say he overstayed his welcome. Care to elaborate? – G.

Did someone give me the light?

Hey G – “Secret identity?” What is this, a spy novel? Don’t worry – I’ll protect your cover. But if you were really undercover, you’d know better than to eavesdrop on my conversations. I tend to go long.

Speaking of going long…

Want to guarantee you won’t get booked again? Ignore the light. Stay on stage. Do another 10… 20… maybe 60 minutes. After all, the audience obviously can’t get enough of you, right?

(And just in case sarcasm doesn’t translate in print – insert a big NOT! right there.)

Here’s the reality: stand-up may be a creative art, but it operates within a very structured business. And one of the biggest unwritten rules is simple – respect your time on stage.

Yes, there are exceptions. If you’re selling out arenas or headlining major tours, audiences expect a longer “concert-style” experience. Think of Bruce Springsteen playing three-hour shows – fans love it, and they paid for it.

But unless you’re at that level, stick to your set time.

Why? Because behind every comedy show is a tightly run operation. Clubs run on schedules – doors open, shows start, staff works, and everything from the kitchen to the bar to the box office is timed around the performance.

Only NO fans!

When a comic goes long, it throws everything off:

  • The box office has already closed
  • Food and drink service has ended
  • Staff is waiting (on the clock) with no way to earn tips
  • The next audience is lining up while the current one is still inside

And here’s something a lot of performers don’t realize: clubs build in “check spots” so customers can pay before the show ends. Run long, and you increase the chances of people slipping out without paying – which often comes out of the server’s pocket.

Not exactly a standing ovation from the staff.

I once had a comedian tell me he was “helping the club” by going an hour over – giving the bar more time to sell drinks. That logic deserves a bigger laugh than anything he said on stage.

The business simply doesn’t work that way.

The same goes for corporate and college gigs. Those events run on tight schedules. Go short, you risk not getting paid. Go long, you risk never getting invited back.

Bottom line:

Time isn’t just a suggestion – it’s part of the job.

For newer comics especially, sticking to your time on stage shows professionalism. It tells bookers and managers you understand how the business works – and that you won’t create problems.

And that’s what keeps you working.

I could go on… but I’ll do something that comic didn’t do.

I’ll stick to my time.

Thanks for reading and as always – keep laughing!!

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Comedy Blues and Creative Highs

Hey Dave – I have a confession to make and was wondering if this is normal or not and if so, how to deal with it? Is there such a thing as having the blues in comedy? I guess you could call it the Comedy Blues. I mean, I’ve been told “no” before and had terrible sets in the past. But I strongly feel it has made me the keen comedian I am today. But still, if I may… help! – A.

An instrument for creativity

Hey A. – Congratulations. You’re a creative artist.

And what you’re feeling? It comes with the territory.

A career in the arts—comedy, speaking, acting, music, writing—often means riding an emotional roller coaster. Big highs. Big lows. That’s one reason so many people wish they could do it, but don’t. Standing on stage, getting laughs, meeting fans, and getting paid is a great gig. From the audience, it looks glamorous. What they don’t see is the rejection, the waiting, the self-doubt, and the work.

The people who truly pursue it usually don’t feel like they have a choice. They have to do it.

This may sound more motivational than instructional today but stay with me.

Let’s talk music for a second. Some great songs are about incredible highs. Others are about lows—the blues. Blues songs exist because nothing worth having comes easy. They’re about loss, frustration, and struggle.

Now translate that to comedy.

Creative words from a creative artist

If you’re serious about being a comedian (or humorous speaker), you want things to happen now. But progress is slow. Opportunities are unpredictable. Yes, there are huge highs—your first paid gig, passing an audition, winning a contest. But there are also long stretches where nothing clicks, nothing moves, and doors stay closed.

Here’s the truth: every working comic will tell you that you’ll hear “no” far more than “yes,” especially early on.

That’s not a flaw in the system. That is the system.

If you want to stay in this business long enough to build a career, you need to develop thick skin. There’s no shortcut around it.

Think of it like sports. The best relief pitchers in baseball blow saves. What separates them from the ones who spiral or disappear is their ability to shake it off and throw the next pitch with confidence. That mindset has to be learned—or developed quickly—if you want to survive in a competitive field.

Comedy is exactly that: a creative art inside a competitive business.

You put your work—and yourself—out there to be judged by bookers, producers, and audiences. Some will love it. Some won’t. The goal isn’t avoiding highs and lows. The goal is not letting either one define you.

I remember working in New York and hearing brand-new comics say they planned to have a sitcom within a year. I heard it more than once. Meanwhile, the comics hanging around the NY Improv—Ray Romano, Larry David, Dave Attell (to mention only three)—had been grinding for years. They didn’t get everything they auditioned for. They just didn’t quit when someone said “no.”

Unrealistic expectations create massive lows.

Understanding the process creates resilience.

That process has a name: paying your dues. Some people drop out because they can’t take the lows. Others continue because they’re wired to create—whether success comes quickly or not. Continuing doesn’t guarantee success. Talent, business skills, relationships, and luck all matter. But quitting guarantees nothing.

So, what do you do with the Comedy Blues?

Sometimes you step back and regroup. Sometimes you put your head down and keep going. For many creative artists, there isn’t really a choice.

One final thought: consider using those feelings in your writing.

You don’t need to talk about the Comedy Blues—but bringing real emotion into your material adds honesty and depth. Audiences can spot fake instantly. They can also sense when someone is telling the truth, even through jokes.

Most strong comics and speakers draw from experience. They’ve ridden the roller coaster. They’ve paid their dues.

Remember—this is a creative art.
And being a creative artist has never been easy.

But for those who feel called to it?
It’s the only ride worth taking.

Thanks for reading and as always – keep laughing!!

Winter 2026 Standup Comedy Workshop at The Cleveland Funny Bone:

Saturdays – January 10, 17 and 24 from noon to 4 pm.

Performance at The Funny Bone – Wednesday, January 28 at 7:30 pm

Space limited – for details and to register visit COMEDYWORKSHOPS.

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3 Lessons I Learned From a 30-Year Comedy Veteran – Dave Schwensen

By Siddesh Pai – “I Help Comedians, Humor Keynote Speakers & Entrepreneurs Enhance Their Personal Brand Through Targeted Newsletters | Standup Comedian”

Readers: You can locate Siddesh Pai through the following link on LinkedIn. This is an interview we did earlier this year and I liked it enough to share it. Thanks Siddesh and keep laughing!!

https://www.linkedin.com/in/siddeshpai/

3 Lessons I Learned From a 30-Year Comedy Veteran – Dave Schwensen

Talking comedy

Dave has been working in comedy for three decades. But he wants to make one thing clear: he’s not a stand-up comedian. To me, it felt like a writer who doesn’t read. But that’s exactly what makes him different—he’s spent his career booking, coaching, and writing on the business of comedy. In our conversation, he dropped some serious wisdom on why treating comedy like a business is the key to making it a career.

1) Comedy Can’t Be Taught—But It Can Be Coached

“I don’t believe you can teach comedy. What I think is funny, you might not. My kids certainly don’t think I’m funny.” I can’t tell you the Three Stooges are funny if you don’t find slipping on a banana peel hilarious, there’s nothing he can do to change that. This is where coaching comes in. Every comedian has a different style, a different rhythm, and a different worldview. Dave helps comics refine that—polishing the delivery, cutting the fat from jokes, and shaping a strong act. Because at the end of the day, you can’t teach funny. But you can help someone be funnier.

2) No One Is Going to Hand You Stage Time – You Have to Create It

“You can’t teach timing, you can’t teach delivery, and you sure as hell can’t teach stage presence. You have to get up there and do it.” Most comedians think getting better means hitting open mics over and over. But Dave has a different take – go where the audience actually wants entertainment. Clubs are competitive. You’re performing for other comics, waiting for their turn. But business events, fundraisers, and community groups? They’re desperate for entertainment. Your first gigs might be free, but that’s how you build momentum. One day, you’re performing at a Rotary Club for free. The next, someone offers you $500 to do the same set. Stage time is currency. The more you get, the faster you grow.

3) They Call It Amateur Night, But No One Is Trying to Hire an Amateur

A lot of comedians treat stand-up like a passion project. But the ones who make a career out of it? They treat it like a business. – Networking Matters – Hanging out with comics at open mics isn’t enough. Get to know bookers, producers, and event organizers. These are the people who can actually get you paid work. – Market Yourself – Being funny isn’t enough if no one knows you exist. Build a brand, create content, and stay on people’s radar. Your name should pop up when someone’s looking for a comedian. – Be a Professional – Show up on time. Have a tight five. Be easy to work with. Give people your business card. Make yourself easy to book. The comedians who get booked aren’t just the funniest—they’re the ones who treat it like a business.

Thanks for reading – and keep laughing!

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For comments, questions about workshops and coaching please email – Dave@TheComedyBook.com