Takeaways from my first sketch show.

When people ask what I want to do with my career, I usually counter with “realistically, or ‘if I could do anything’?”

As for the latter answer, the response ranges anywhere from a general “I’d love to write for television, like on SNL,” to a highly specific outline of how I plan to channel my inner Mindy Kaling as a multi-hyphenate.

Sarasota has a thriving arts scene, and since I moved here last year I’ve been spending every free moment trying out different performance groups, including the Florida Studio Theatre Sketch Team.

A few months ago I had written a single page of a script, and last night I performed in my first sketch show. Granted, none of the sketches we performed were ones I’d written, but I got up on stage, made ignorant jokes about ghost stereotypes, and people actually paid money to come see it.

The ensemble environment has been a great chance for me to experiment with new styles and learn from more experienced writers. In the past two days, I churned out a flooring-themed parody to “Fergalicious” for my day job and subtly Googled “blackout sketch” when our group leader mentioned how difficult they are to write.

Not everything everyone in my group writes is my sense of humor, but since we’re writing for a diverse audience in terms of age range, socioeconomic status, and geographical background, I’m glad our members are pushing my concept of what’s “funny,” or even what’s “stage-ready.” Some of the gags I doubled over laughing while reading weren’t as big a hit with the audience, and small bits I’d missed in read-throughs came alive once the sketch was on its feet and playing off the energy of the crowd.

Some of the best parts were things you couldn’t write into a script, like a giant googly eye falling off a grasshopper costume after being shot in a scene, or when our group was given strict instructions not to play with the prop gun for that scene, which was promptly shut into an unlocked box with “nothing important,” haphazardly scrawled across it in black sharpie (see above).

Is being told not to play with a formerly-functioning prop gun in Florida irony? Let’s debate it below.

So would I still want to write for SNL one day? Well Lorne Michaels, if you’re reading this, I am available. Have your people call my parents people.