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Welcome to another episode of the Comedic Pursuits podcast. I’m your host, Seth Payne. This is the show where I sit down with comedians around the D.C. area, and we dish about their career so far and other fun bits of wisdom they might have for you.
My guest this week is DC improviser and stand-up Kara Kinsey.
Highlights from my interview with Kara Kinsey
Some of the interview questions and answers have been edited for clarity, but you can hear the full version in the podcast recording.
Tell us about your comedy background
My family is really funny, so I was surrounded by funny people. I’m the oldest of five daughters, and as a kid, I was much different than I am today. I was way more controlling and dictatorial. I don’t know if I was ever funny, but at Christmas, my dad would set up a video camera to watch us come in to see all the gifts and everything. I would orchestrate it and be like, “We’re doing this.” Sometimes there was a dance routine, sometimes there was a song. I would lead it, and I’d be like, “This. Is. The. Step,” just obnoxious.
In middle school, I did plays, and I remember getting laughs doing that. But I don’t know if I ever did things to get laughs. I think I was getting laughs because I was taking everything I did so seriously. I was more proud of the fact that I never messed up, and I always knew what was going on. I wasn’t like, “Hello, world!”
But I’ve always loved being in front of people. I did a talent show in high school. At my boarding school, we would have some meeting in the morning. But if you auditioned for the talent show, you didn’t have to go to a meeting. So one of my roommates said, “Yeah, I’ll put together something.” She was a Junior Olympic Taekwondo person, so for her routine, she literally just kicked and punched me around while I did fake falls and she flipped me over. And the panel was like, “Well, what’s your act? That can’t be yours. It’s her act.” And I was already on stage, so I just did an impromptu stand-up set, and I was like, “That’s my talent.” That was the first time that I did anything.
At that point, I was listening to a lot of comedy. I don’t know why I didn’t make the jump to, “I want to do it.” But I was listening to a lot of CD’s, even listening to stuff like, “Behind the Scenes with George Carlin,” like him deconstructing jokes. But I wasn’t making the leap.
Then I was asked to do some weird live play of “Howl.” I got to play Jack Kerouac, but I didn’t read anything. I was just Jack Kerouac, walking around. So during the middle of this person giving this dramatic reading of “Howl” and everyone getting hyped, I went upstairs to the second story, and there was a hole. I climbed through the railing and was hanging by my feet upside down. I didn’t do research on who Jack Kerouac was, I just read a Wikipedia page and was like, “Oh, he’s on drugs, and he’s crazy. This makes sense.” That was my whole justification.
So I’m doing that. I’m doing random comedy bits. I’m getting devastated because I keep trying to run for these major leadership positions, and no one ever took me seriously. At the time, I was super livid that I was getting applause for being funny, but I was also getting punished for being funny. Because this was kind of my transition where I still had my childhood personality, where I was like, “But I’m very serious. I’m about efficiency,” and not really embracing the actual parts of my personality that worked, as opposed to the parts that I was trying to make work all the time.
What happened when you went to college?
College was not funny at all. I was in a sorority and was very depressed. I tried to fail out my freshman year, but my dad drove me back.
I went to college in Dallas, Texas, and that was a problem, too. I went from this boarding school environment that was very empowering, like, “You can eat the world if you want to.” Not even, “The world is yours.” But like, “You could fuck it up if you want. That’s how much power you have.” And then I go to Dallas and immediately—I was only there for, like, a week—I was eating a piece of cake, and some guy walked past me and said, “You’re gonna eat that?” and walked away.
So all of a sudden, I was being brought into this reality where what I looked like was the most important thing. And I joined a sorority because I’m an idiot and because I’m very competitive.
When did you start doing stand-up?
As soon as I graduated, I took a class at the Dallas Improv with Dave Lewis. He’s the one who gave me the format for how to formulate a joke.
At that point, I’d had four years of angst. I had a horrible college experience. I was ready to chew somebody up. It happens to everybody. I’m a white female—the worst did not happen to me. But I was so enraged by all of my experiences. I was just ready for someone to give me a format. I was waiting for someone to give me permission and say, “This is a joke,” and to give me the rules.
After that, our teacher told us we needed to be going up every single night. To get show time, I was literally going up four times a week in Dallas. There’s a lot of opportunity for late-night comedy there, which DC does not have.
I was doing that, but I got real burned out. I was still working, and I was just as intense at working as I am anything else. And I was a younger a professional. Everyone was getting fired every two seconds, and it was very stressful. So I dropped off.
Before, I was doing stand-up all the time, as much as possible. And then—it felt like an eternity, but it might have only been three weeks where I only went up once or twice in a whole week. I got a phone call from somebody who said, “I haven’t seen you. Are you quitting comedy? What are you doing? I wanted to invite you to be in a show with me, but it just doesn’t seem like you care anymore.” And this is a guy who was 45, getting divorced, worked in the mailroom of FedEx, and was calling me out saying, “You don’t care.” So that was bad. People were just pushing me around, so that put a really sour taste in my mouth.
Then I left Dallas because I had a breakdown. I was like, “I gotta get out of town.” So I did a masters in England for a year. I wasn’t funny for a whole year, I just did a masters. I traveled and was sad. I didn’t go to shows. It was just a complete shutdown of anything that gave me life beforehand, which is not great. But I graduated with distinction, with a masters in international finance and development! So that I did do.
Then I went back to Shreveport for a year. Once again, didn’t see shows, didn’t talk to anybody, got very depressed. After that, I moved to D.C.
How’d you get back into comedy in DC?
I was actually looking up all the stand-up stuff online but had so much PTSD over Dallas and what happened in Dallas and how important it was to be in this social scene and make friends with so many people and be out all the time and literally be waiting in line for some open mics at 6:30 and then be there, in the scene, until 2:00, 2:30. I kept looking up dates and kept emailing people and then never going anywhere.
I remembered that the best stand-ups in Dallas also did improv. I Googled “comedy DC improv.” I had to type in “improv” because I couldn’t do stand-up. I was too scared. But even when I walked into my first few levels of improv, I’m pretty sure I would tell anybody who would listen, “I’m a stand-up. I’m doing this to be better at stand-up.”
What was WIT’s Harold program like for you?
Wonder Whale was the first Harold team I was on, and I’m still on it!
I got on after my first audition, but as soon as I got on, I was like, “Why am I here?” I felt like I wasn’t doing anything good, so I kept wondering, “Why am I here? Why am I on this stage? Why does anyone talk to me? Why do I wake up in the morning?” It was just like, “Why, why, why, why, why, why?”
Wonder Whale coach Dan Miller’s response to me was like, “Why don’t you breathe? Also, why don’t you do some more shows so you don’t freak out as much. Because you’re not that important. You’re never going to tank anything. You’re not going to destroy the show.”
When I first got onto Wonder Whale, there were a few people from Couch Money, and then half of Not Great With Kids. Dan Miller was our first coach, and he had very high expectations. Having those high expectations for half the people who were new to the Harold program, it just felt like, “What are we doing here?” It just never worked. We had one show that I felt hit the mark in that whole cycle.
Then Matt Mansfield was our coach for two cycles, and now we have Ben Taylor.
Have you formed any indie groups?
We formed Pamplemousse from people in Level Four and Level Five. I’m on Cerise—a lot of my teams are named after La Croix flavors.
I recently joined Rancy Neagan because I realized I do not have enough exposure to outside people. And I realized I needed to be doing a lot more. Also, I feel the pressure. I’ve been on Harold long enough that I could be kicked off any second and probably will be because they like getting new people in. It makes sense.
Have you taken classes anywhere else?
I’m taking classes at UCB. It’s been beneficial, but it’s been miserable. I’ve actually been miserable doing it every single time because by the time I even get to class, I’ve sacrificed a lot. I’m there to learn. I’m not there to go over how to do “who, what, where.” If my scene partner isn’t as good, I’m so much more critical. And when the coach isn’t addressing what I’m doing and is addressing what they’re doing—which he should because he’s a coach for everybody—I’m just like, “Fuck this guy.” I sacrifice too much, and my expectations are too high.
But I think it’s beneficial because they teach things so much differently. What they emphasize and what they don’t is different. It’s good to get completely out of town feedback on stuff. But it’s frustrating.
When did you get back into stand-up?
After Wonder Whale cycle one, I got into stand-up again.
There’s been a difference between my stand-up here and in Dallas. Before, there was so much more about my mom, there was so much more gender-oriented stuff. Now I still talk about my mom, I just talk about different stuff.
What’s your dream FIST team made up of famous celebrities?
Trevor Noah. He has an excellent range of voices, besides the fact that he’s hilarious. He also has an amazing butt that no one ever talks about. So Trevor Noah, and his butt is also invited.
John Mulaney. I feel like I understand his sense of humor so intuitively. I feel like we’d be on the same wavelength. He would be the robot. He’s very smart, and I understand where he’s going. We’d have somebody who can add all the flavor I cannot add.
I think I’d also want Amy Poehler or somebody with infinite energy.
Our team name would be Goosebumps.
What’s your go-to object work?
I hate object work, so my go-to is to turn on the television because it’s the easiest thing to do. You can hold the remote, and you don’t have to remember what’s happening with it.
What’s your favorite character that you like to play?
My mom. Or somebody with a southern accent, somebody who’s like, “Oh, so I’m at fault? Oh, so I’m a bad person? Oh, so you hate me? Oh, so I should just die?”
What’s your favorite team name you’ve suggested that no one liked?
When we were trying to name Wonder Whale, I think I suggested something like Golden Glow, and it was horrible.
Create a fictional Harold team of all fictional characters
Rebecca from Sunnybrook Farm. I’m gonna have a wolf! I want White Fang in it. Jane Eyre, she knows how to endure some suffering, and when you suffer, you know how to be funny. That’s a fact. Speaking of Amy Poehler, I want Leslie Knope. And I want to go ahead and get Ron Swanson. Kimmy Schmidt, she also knows how to be a survivor. And I want Titus from that show, too.
Our team name would be Ghastly.
What’s your biggest comedic failure, and how did you overcome it?
My comedic failure was letting the social politics of the stand-up I was doing in Dallas literally stop me from doing stand-up. And I threw all of my energy into a different place.
I didn’t do comedy for two whole years after that. I was in England, and then I came back to Shreveport for a little bit. That period was denying who I was as a person. It was denying being open to who I am instead of trying to be a person that I should be. Then I moved to DC to get out.
But I intuitively got back here and was like, “I need to do comedy.” Knowing that I couldn’t say no anymore and that I had to pull myself up to do improv, and that’s the thing I could immediately do, that’s how I overcame. I just asked myself, “How can I just do even the smallest thing to go forward?”
Doing improv was actually the first move that I made in D.C. that was like, “I need to get back. I need to fix myself.” And comedy was the first thing. I wanted to know how to right the ship, how to feel like myself, how to feel joyful again. That was the first lifeline that I reached out to.
I think a lot of your comedy failures reflect what your life is. And if your mind isn’t right, if your life isn’t right, it’s going to come out in weird ways in comedy, more particularly in improv than stand-up. In stand-up, you’re crafting a persona. And if your life isn’t going right, you have more of an axe to grind, and you have a way to channel it and construct a narrative that is more biting and more attacking and funnier in a different way. But improv, if you don’t have things sorted, if you are not ready to really be present and give what you have to other people, it’s not going to be good.
So my biggest failure in comedy and coming back from it was like a return to myself.
Do you do anything in particular that keeps you going?
I think your health is really important. I think a lot of comedians don’t pay attention to health, to mental health. Being in a parasympathetic nervous system, for me, is hugely helpful. And that’s something I’ve actually only figured out in the past year. I’ll ask myself, “Why don’t I do some mindfulness? Why don’t I make sure I exercise right before?”
Where can we find you online?
I have an Instagram, @karakinseycomedy. There’s a Wonder Whale Facebook group and Instagram. Cerise has a Facebook.
Any parting words of wisdom?
If you take care of yourself, you’re taking care of your comedy.
Thanks for tuning in!
Thank you, Kara. This has been awesome, and I hope you guys enjoyed it. Come back next week to hear my interview with Erik Beringer.
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