Edinburgh is suddenly being very nice to me! Seducing me into wanting to come back and do this thing again, assuring me that in a couple more returns I can also assume the rockstar status of many returning comics on the Fringe.  I am not that easy Eddie baby…but go on…

Five more shows to go and I have a show I am incredibly proud of. It is not covered in stars and lauded by critics as worthy or even awarded anything, but it is a solid work of hilarity I have had the pleasure of sharing with my audiences. Herstory has evolved from a self-involved South African product to a universal tale of motherhood, womanhood, personhood, black-hood and feeling good. It has become a fresh take on the woman I thought I knew, but keeps surprising even me at every turn. It has become a malleable work of art that has fitted to the mould of every audience that has occupied my space every night. It has been a grand show and a little tea party, a big rant and a mini-gossip session. I even had a reviewer in and I was not thrown in any way. He was in my space for an hour, and until he got to the safety of his computer and criticism, he was my bitch for the night. I had such a blast the past two nights, I wish I had found this mojo earlier in this journey. Someone tonight said they last watched the show in it’s first week and what they saw tonight was a completely different, hotter show! That, was the best compliment I have had this entire trip. To know that you have grown, you have improved, says you have listened, you have worked and you have let go. I guess all is not lost. If indeed I were to be brave and stupid enough to hazard an attempt at breaking into the Ed Fringe again, I would come better prepared and stronger.

I now treat my shows as though I have nothing to lose, but a lot to gain in every single person who sits in that show. I could gain followers, word spreaders, even potential partners. I never know. In this my last week, I am enjoying the fruit of my labour. I am reminded of what endears me to my audience: I am honest with them. I am in the moment with them, and I am not there to bullshit them.

Truth be told though, I really wasn’t looking forward to my show. I was just tired. I was giving in to the pressure of the rebellion launched against me by my body. Every working bit of my body had turned its attention inward and was refusing to budge. It was weighing the duty of assembling the forthcoming baby with that of dealing with the stress of the Fringe, and had decided screw the Fringe. Of course I had to remind my body that this is not a rebellion and threatened to pump it full of stimulants and sugar dare it shut down on me.  I won – barely. I dragged myself off to the theatre, wondering where the heck my chutzpah had gone and why it hadn’t left a note. There was a fire scare shortly before my show, and we had a little chortle about how I had in fact tried to sabotage the place so I wouldn’t have to do my show. We chuckled about the hardships of the Fringe and joys of laughing out loud as opposed to the controlled, polite laughter of the festival audience. We got straight into it and man, did we have a good time! The best time of my Herstory experience has been laughing with the audience. We all leave with a warm, fuzzy, just-tickled feeling. And more often than not, lately, I hear them still chuckling as they leave. I love it. I live for it.