Some people just won’t like you, but don’t take it personally: what surviving the fringe taught me about life

‘Only in Edinburgh are you surrounded by so many of your peers, all competing for the same audience, all so aware of who is failing and succeeding.’ Photograph: Jeffrey Blackler/Alamy

If the beginning of September still makes me think I need a new notebook and pencil case, the beginning of August makes me think I should be feeling sick with nerves and probably a hangover. It is now 17 years since I took a show to the Edinburgh fringe, but scars run deep. Don’t get me wrong: I loved and still love the city, and I loved performing at the festivals, but it was an almost uniquely stressful experience for a young comedian.

First, there’s the money. Even when I was a fringe regular, it was quite common to sell out a month-long run and still sustain losses of £10,000. I’m told by the current generation that things have got worse. People outside the fringe ecosystem can rarely believe it, but if your venue only seats 60 people, you literally cannot make back what it costs for you and the technical/backstage/box office staff to stay in an expensive city.