“I’m still job hunting, and doing stand-up on the side,” I told a friend at brunch, two months into unemployment.
“Girl, this isn’t ‘on the side,’” she replied bluntly. “Telling jokes is all you do now.”
Realising my only paychecks would be coming from performing stand-up comedy truly felt like the universe’s cruellest punchline. Turns out, it was the setup for my second act. Becoming a full-time comedian taught me more about strategic thinking than a dozen corporate training sessions ever could.
My agency career accelerated on a pretty unhinged trajectory. I started out as a content director before barrelling into senior accounts roles. Somehow, nothing felt quite right. I didn’t love churning out drafts riddled with buzzwords (like “leverage”, yuck), but found myself missing that creative work when I traded in whitepapers and brainstorms for pitch decks and WIP calls. Then Covid happened, and I was laid off.
Untethered, I buried my feelings of failure underneath anything that felt productive. Remember how people picked up weird hobbies in lockdown? I didn’t feel like making sourdough, so I chose stand-up.
Ready to rebrand myself as the brown Amy Schumer and land a Netflix special, I hit the local stand-up circuit, blocking out weekly open mics in my calendar and schmoozing with promoters to get booked on their shows. They did not book me. The thing is, you can’t project manage yourself into becoming a good comedian. I kept bombing. I hadn’t booked a show in months.
I’d become so obsessed with being special that I ended up missing out on the things that make stand-up actually special. With my tail between my legs (but a much better attitude), I got back in the ring with a beginner’s mindset, ready to put some real work in.
So, I wrote. A lot. I deleted even more. I kept performing – some nights to a full room, others to an audience of four or less. Eventually, I started to improve, and I had fun with it! Great stand-up comedy sits in that intersection between content and delivery. Unpacking how these elements work together to make people laugh steered me towards a career in creative strategy – a role that finally feels right. I wouldn't have even considered it if I'd never done comedy.
Creative strategy and stand-up are more connected than you think. Here are three things I learned from comedy that also made be a better strategist:
Organise facts to bring out the feels.
My first sets were focused on telling stories – chronological accounts of actual events. But a play-by-play of facts delays the punchlines. Your audience came to laugh, so give them as many opportunities to do so from the moment you step on stage.
Strategy’s the same. Clients care about what’s in it for them, so a data dump to prove how much you’ve researched in one slide will tank your pitch. Identify one insight that will make your client go, “Aha!”. Then, show them why it’s the best approach with relevant stats.
You can love the written word without being a wanker about it.
Stand-up and strategy aren’t about how well you can write, but how good you can make people feel. Treating writing like an intellectual flex doesn’t make you a wordsmith. It makes you a wanker. Your jokes won’t land if the audience needs to Google every other word. Your client won’t sign off on an approach they don’t understand.
It’s hard to resist the urge to be clever (no matter how much big brain energy you bring to the table). But clarity is more important. Comedy and strategy can be smart without making your audience or client feel condescended to.
It’s never about you.
Comedy and strategy are services. A comedian’s job is to bring joy, and a strategist’s role is to offer clarity. I used to put all my effort into convincing everyone that I was great at what I do, which ultimately, took away from what I was meant to deliver.
Whether you’re writing a comedy set or a creative brief, remember: It’s not about you. Your job is to make someone’s day better. For an audience, that’s giving them something to laugh about. For clients, it’s inspiring them to think about their brand in a different way.
Once again, I’m looking for work and yes, still telling jokes in the meantime. But now I know doing stand-up isn’t taking away from my strategy career. It’s helping me grow it.
Fran Ayala is an award-winning brand strategy director who’s spent her entire life asking questions, telling stories, and breaking rules. She’s worked with global firms like Edelman and The Economist Group, managing campaigns for some of the world’s biggest brands, including Microsoft, SAP, and Singapore Airlines. Before moving into the agency world, Fran worked as a journalist, English teacher, and corporate communications manager. She is also the founder of Bitches in Stitches, a global, all-femme stand-up comedy group with chapters in Hong Kong, Manila, Manchester, and London.
“I’m still job hunting, and doing stand-up on the side,” I told a friend at brunch, two months into unemployment.
“Girl, this isn’t ‘on the side,’” she replied bluntly. “Telling jokes is all you do now.”
Realising my only paychecks would be coming from performing stand-up comedy truly felt like the universe’s cruellest punchline. Turns out, it was the setup for my second act. Becoming a full-time comedian taught me more about strategic thinking than a dozen corporate training sessions ever could.
My agency career accelerated on a pretty unhinged trajectory. I started out as a content director before barrelling into senior accounts roles. Somehow, nothing felt quite right. I didn’t love churning out drafts riddled with buzzwords (like “leverage”, yuck), but found myself missing that creative work when I traded in whitepapers and brainstorms for pitch decks and WIP calls. Then Covid happened, and I was laid off.
Untethered, I buried my feelings of failure underneath anything that felt productive. Remember how people picked up weird hobbies in lockdown? I didn’t feel like making sourdough, so I chose stand-up.
Ready to rebrand myself as the brown Amy Schumer and land a Netflix special, I hit the local stand-up circuit, blocking out weekly open mics in my calendar and schmoozing with promoters to get booked on their shows. They did not book me. The thing is, you can’t project manage yourself into becoming a good comedian. I kept bombing. I hadn’t booked a show in months.
I’d become so obsessed with being special that I ended up missing out on the things that make stand-up actually special. With my tail between my legs (but a much better attitude), I got back in the ring with a beginner’s mindset, ready to put some real work in.
So, I wrote. A lot. I deleted even more. I kept performing – some nights to a full room, others to an audience of four or less. Eventually, I started to improve, and I had fun with it! Great stand-up comedy sits in that intersection between content and delivery. Unpacking how these elements work together to make people laugh steered me towards a career in creative strategy – a role that finally feels right. I wouldn't have even considered it if I'd never done comedy.
Creative strategy and stand-up are more connected than you think. Here are three things I learned from comedy that also made be a better strategist:
Organise facts to bring out the feels.
My first sets were focused on telling stories – chronological accounts of actual events. But a play-by-play of facts delays the punchlines. Your audience came to laugh, so give them as many opportunities to do so from the moment you step on stage.
Strategy’s the same. Clients care about what’s in it for them, so a data dump to prove how much you’ve researched in one slide will tank your pitch. Identify one insight that will make your client go, “Aha!”. Then, show them why it’s the best approach with relevant stats.
You can love the written word without being a wanker about it.
Stand-up and strategy aren’t about how well you can write, but how good you can make people feel. Treating writing like an intellectual flex doesn’t make you a wordsmith. It makes you a wanker. Your jokes won’t land if the audience needs to Google every other word. Your client won’t sign off on an approach they don’t understand.
It’s hard to resist the urge to be clever (no matter how much big brain energy you bring to the table). But clarity is more important. Comedy and strategy can be smart without making your audience or client feel condescended to.
It’s never about you.
Comedy and strategy are services. A comedian’s job is to bring joy, and a strategist’s role is to offer clarity. I used to put all my effort into convincing everyone that I was great at what I do, which ultimately, took away from what I was meant to deliver.
Whether you’re writing a comedy set or a creative brief, remember: It’s not about you. Your job is to make someone’s day better. For an audience, that’s giving them something to laugh about. For clients, it’s inspiring them to think about their brand in a different way.
Once again, I’m looking for work and yes, still telling jokes in the meantime. But now I know doing stand-up isn’t taking away from my strategy career. It’s helping me grow it.
Fran Ayala is an award-winning brand strategy director who’s spent her entire life asking questions, telling stories, and breaking rules. She’s worked with global firms like Edelman and The Economist Group, managing campaigns for some of the world’s biggest brands, including Microsoft, SAP, and Singapore Airlines. Before moving into the agency world, Fran worked as a journalist, English teacher, and corporate communications manager. She is also the founder of Bitches in Stitches, a global, all-femme stand-up comedy group with chapters in Hong Kong, Manila, Manchester, and London.
