My Kindle broke.

I was searching on a word and I noticed the 5-way switch felt funny, turned out it was broken…  But I’d already finished my book, Steve Martin’s "Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life".

Although not the best-written book, and despite his self-deprecation, Steve was seemingly shtupping every desirable woman extant, the insight into careers was utterly fascinating.

His motivation was his father.  Steve needed to prove himself to his distant dad.  He needed something to call his own.  And it took him two decades to achieve this.

Yes, most people believe the first appearance on late night TV breaks you.  But that’s not the case.  Steve was eventually demoted from Johnny, only appearing with guest hosts until a breakout review from a small club appearance in Florida, whereupon he got another chance with the main man (because a friend at the show was championing him, without allies, you’re nowhere.)

Steve’s story is "Outliers" in action.  Steve put in his 10,000 hours at Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm.  He got to experiment, he got to be bad.  That’s one of the problems with the insta-stars of today, they’ve got no chance to be bad.  So they’re surrounded by production live, they sing to hard drive, when what we’re really looking for is some element of humanity, of connection, of control. I’ve never seen anyone put down a heckler as well as Paul McCartney did at Amoeba.  He knew exactly when to bite back, how to silence the intruder and keep the audience on his side.  You learn this via thousands of appearances.

One night the audience is rapturous.

The next night there’s silence.

Is it you?  Do you need to adjust the act?

Most acts today are finalized before they go on the road.  They can’t be fixed, they can’t be changed in light of human response. And without that response, there is no show.

After Knott’s, Steve wrote for television.  Until he realized if he didn’t quit right away, didn’t give his standup a chance, his opportunity for success would evaporate.

So Steve quit, and went on the road.  And lost money.  He got no traction as an opening act so he decided to headline.  Where he made even less money, even though the people were there to see him alone.

But then there was an accident.

That’s how creativity works.  Oftentimes not premeditated, you do something in a situation that insures your success.

He was performing in a room with no stage exit.  He was done, but the audience wouldn’t leave.  When he escaped through the side door, they followed him.

Steve became famous for this, leading his audience out on adventures.  It wasn’t planned in advance, it was a serendipitous moment on the road.

But that doesn’t mean Steve didn’t plan, didn’t analyze his act.

We hear today people will do anything to make it.  But what exactly is that anything?  Change your name, sleep with the director, sell out to corporations?  In other words, are you willing to work on your creativity, your act, constantly refining and reinventing it until the audience, after tons of your own hard work, responds?

Steve decided to invent a new kind of comedy.  Where the punch lines were not defined.

Imagine this.  It’s like a band successfully playing covers and then starting over playing music no one has ever heard before, that most people don’t like.

But by being so different, you’re unique, you’re unchallenged by competitors, you can pave your own way.  If you’re willing to believe in yourself, if you’re willing to put in the effort.

Speak with a coder.  He doesn’t sit down and write iTunes or iOS 4 the first time out.  He learns the language he pays his dues, he makes his mistakes…and the best software triumphs.  Why would fresh-faced beauties believe that just by showing up they can make it in the entertainment world.  Huh?

Eventually Steve got sick of his own act.  It became stale.  He had to move on.  In other words, Chris Isaak never wrote another "Wicked Game", nothing like it.  Are you willing to try something new, or do you just want to repeat what you’ve done before?

Steve junked standup and went into movies.  He loved the collaboration after working alone.  He wrote a play.  And never looked back at where he came from until decades later, when he wrote this book.

People are complicated.  Our motivations are multifarious.  Success is elusive.  You can try, but you’re gonna hit a lot of blind alleys.  Your one big break will probably be cumulative, a result of years of hard work that pay off in that one performance that puts you over, years after you thought you should make it, after multiple late night soliloquies wherein you decided to give up.

But those who last soldier on.  They know that it’s not only hard work, but a constant exploration of their act, a constant reevaluation, a constant seeking for personal satisfaction that ends up in career fulfillment.

P.S.  They say I’ll get a replacement Kindle tomorrow.  On to the next book!

Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life