“I Just Did My First Open Mic Set… Now What?”

So you finally did it.

You walked on stage, grabbed a microphone that smelled like three different comedians’ anxieties, and let words fall out of your mouth. Some people laughed. Some didn’t. One guy was definitely just waiting for his food.

Congrats — you’re officially in the game.

But now you’re probably wondering:

“Okay… what the hell do I do next?”

Let’s break it down.

1. Don’t Judge Yourself (Yet)

Your first set is like a newborn baby:

• Messy

• Loud

• And no one truly knows what it means yet

Give yourself 24 hours before you decide if you’re the next Chris Rock or the next “guy who tried comedy that one time.”

2. Write Down Everything You Remember

Immediately after your set, your brain becomes a conspiracy theorist.

You’ll convince yourself things happened that did not happen.

That’s why you should jot down:

• What people actually laughed at

• What they ignored like a CVS receipt

• Any riffs that surprised you

• The moments you panicked and said “uhhh” five times in a row

This becomes your “Day 1” document. Cherish it. Fear it. Both.

3. Watch the Recording (Even If It Feels Like Torture)

Watching your first set is like listening to your own voice mail greeting:

You want to crawl out of your skin and legally change your identity.

But this is where you learn the most:

• Are you talking too fast?

• Are you holding the mic like you’re afraid it has rabies?

• Are your punchlines landing where you think they are?

Don’t nitpick.

Find 1–2 big things to improve and move on.

4. Tighten the Material (Yes, Even If It “Killed”)

Here’s a secret:

Your jokes are funnier in your head than they are in the wild.

Trim the fat:

• Shorter setups

• Clearer punches

• Remove the 18 seconds where you explained unnecessary backstory

Then try that “new and improved” version next time. Plus one new bit.

This is how comics level up without delusion.

5. Go Back for Round Two… ASAP

Momentum is your best friend in comedy.

Hit your next mic within a week — or sooner.

Waiting too long is how dreams die and excuses are born.

6. Start Talking to Other Comics

You don’t have to walk in screaming “WHAT’S UP, FAM??”

Just hit them with:

• “Good set, man.”

• “How long have you been doing it?”

• “Where else do you go up?”

You’re not trying to join a cult…you’re building community.

7. Stop Chasing Validation (Especially From Drunk Strangers)

Don’t let one set make you think:

• You’re a genius

• You’re trash

• You need to quit

• You need a Netflix special by Friday

Give yourself 10 mics before making any big decisions.

Right now you’re just building reps.

8. Build a Simple Routine You Can Stick To

Here’s a basic weekly rhythm:

• 1–3 open mics

• 30 minutes of writing

• Watch 1 comedy clip for structure (not copying)

• Listen back to your last set

Nothing crazy. Just enough to grow consistently.

9. Celebrate the Win

Seriously — celebrate.

Most people spend their whole lives saying, “I might try comedy someday,” and then never do it.

You did it.

You stepped into the arena.

Let that matter.

10. The Truth: Your Real Comedy Journey Starts Now

The first mic?

That was just your tutorial level.

Your next 50 mics are where your comedy muscles get built — whether through laughter, silence, or the occasional drunk guy loudly asking where the bathroom is right at your punchline.

Keep swinging. Keep showing up. Keep laughing at yourself.

Before We Go: Where I Am in This Journey

Look — I’m not writing this from the dressing room at Madison Square Garden.

There’s no agent calling me.

No tour bus outside.

I’m not some full-time comic with millions of views; I’m still new.

I’m still learning, still growing, still taking this whole thing seriously for the first time in my life.

But even admitting where you are in your comedy journey is a skill.

A lot of comics try to skip steps and pretend they’re already stars.

But humility, self-awareness, and honesty about your current level will take you way farther than ego ever will.

There will always be someone funnier, bigger, faster, louder, more connected — whatever.

But the real success?

The thing that actually separates people?

It’s knowing that nobody outworks you.

Not on stage.

Not in writing.

Not in the grind.

Not in the belief that you can keep getting better.

And if you keep that mindset, your “first open mic” will just be the start of a story you’ll be proud to tell.