I read a book years ago by the British comedian Les Dawson.
The protagonist was also a stand up comedian, not entirely by coincidence I imagine – for the same reason any book I write is likely to be about a female anaesthetist (although more beautiful, youthful, and engaging than I, if it’s going to be publishable I expect.)
In the book, our hero has a number of shows which fall sadly flat, but then half way through, he discovers the secret to great comedy, and finds fame and fortune. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Even now having all the answers, he still has the odd set that doesn’t work out, where no one laughs and he dies a death on stage. I couldn’t figure out this story arc at the time. Surely once you have the solution to a problem, it’s now solved and you can move on?
Since then, I’ve realised that his story was much closer to real life than I’d like. Remember, for example, a few weeks ago when I felt like I’d solved the problem of insomnia? At 3 am last night, it really didn’t feel like that at all. My highlights reel of life regrets was playing as strongly in my mind as at any other wakeful 3 am in the past. Similarly, my zen and mindful approach to life was nowhere to be seen yesterday when I was doing an extra day at the hospital to help out. By lunchtime I’d been stuck in theatre all morning with no one to give me even a short coffee break, and I was feeling hangry and upset. I even remember thinking at the time “this isn’t like you, you’re being unreasonable, probably everyone is just busy”, but it didn’t help. By 1pm I was sending snide texts to the duty anaesthetist that I was now ready for my morning tea. Yes, I hated myself for it, and they looked pretty defeated by the time they arrived in my theatre, but I couldn’t help it.
Has it taken this long for the penny to drop? That life is always ‘one step forward, two steps back’?