Well, the odometer rolled over past 10,000 visitors today (although most of those hits were probably from either librarians or me). It's a tiny mark of success, I suppose, with the emphasis on tiny-- which in many ways is fine.
The other day I was pondering about how most successful comedians have a persona, and about how I don't have one, which, in turn, is probably why I don't usually think of myself as a comedian as much as a comedy writer (although I perform fairly often). I've settled into my role as the guy in the background, the staff writer (whether it be for the now defunct Sara Schaefer is Obsessed With You, or the currently running Primetime Kalan), or the guy who does some guest writing or performing in his friends' shows.
Most of the time this is cool with me. My career goal is to be a TV or screenwriter, not a comedy star, so I'm kind of training for that, with all my current stuff.
Still, just because I'm the support guy, doesn't mean I'm not an egomaniac (I did chose show business-- such as it is-- after all). Sometimes I feel like being in the background causes people to underrate what I'm capable of. Plus, I originally came to NYC to be an actor. I know my way around the stage. I could do more performing, or write stuff for myself to perform, and I'd be good at it.
And yet... I don't know that I have something specific that I, as myself, need to present to the world. No individual comic persona. So I don't end up doing my own thing very often.
Sorry that this hasn't been either (1.) a plug, my stated reason for maintaining this site, or (2.) funny, what I'm theoretically attempting the rest of the time. It's just something that occured to me recently, when I was thinking about blurbs.
Blurbs? Where the hell did that come from? Well, here's what I mean. If I was writing a quote about my former fake boss, Sara Schaefer, I might say something like:
"Her endearingly awkward presence belies a surprisingly sharp wit. A master of daffy self-effacement!"
Not great prose, but you get the picture. Or my current "boss," Elliott Kalan:
"A geek's geek, Kalan spins comic gold from supposedly cult subjects, his likable delivery making them accessible to his whole audience."
Whereas my blurb would be:
"His endearingly self-effacing exterior fails to belie an apologetic interior. His dry delivery makes slightly amusing a series of increasingly baffling references. Pleasantly regressive."
My friend Rob Bates co-wrote an entire sketch show for Rick Murphy, inspired by what he saw as Rick's comic persona. The title? "Rick Murphy is an Asshole."
Here are some suggested titles for my show:
"Dan McCoy May Come Off as Somewhat Cold if You Don't Know Him That Well, But Actually He's Just Sort of Shy."
"Dan McCoy is Politely Nodding After Everything You Say."
"Dan McCoy is Expressing Increasingly-Less-Dignified Befuddlement as the Straight Man in this Sketch."
"Dan McCoy Doesn't Mind a Laugh at His Own Expense, Provided He Helped Script It or is Otherwise Involved."
"Dan McCoy is Vaguely Dissatisfied With Life and Reacts With Mildly Cutting Remarks."
"Dan McCoy, Like Most People in Comedy, Probably Secretly Thinks He's Funnier Than You, but He Also Respects What You've Done, and Suspects He May Be Wrong About The Funnier Than You Thing."
"Dan McCoy Makes an Appropriate Pop Culture Reference, but Not Too Frequently, Because That Would Be Pandering and Lazy."
"Dan McCoy Loves To Dance, If You Get a Few Drinks In Him."