On Taking a Big Swing

In theater and comedy, to be good—really good—you have to take big swings.

It’s that moment when you decide to go all in. An act, a choice, a tactic where you risk everything for the possibility of something extraordinary. A punchline that might not land. A character choice that might get you a blank stare. A scene that might fall flat on its face. A physical response that might seem absurd.

A big swing is decisive. Bold. It leaves no question about whether or not it worked. You know instantly: Oh, that didn’t land. And that’s the beauty of it.

I’ve always been comfortable taking big swings on stage. In fact, it feels like second nature to me. The stakes are clear, the audience is right there, and the feedback is instant. But recently, I’ve started thinking about how this concept translates into my creative work offstage.

Big swings expose weaknesses. If you’re willing to be vulnerable—if you’re willing to let your flaws, your mistakes, and your half-baked ideas hang out in the open—it’s so much easier to see what’s not working. And when you can see what’s not working, you can fix it. Fast.

Of course, there’s risk. There’s always risk. You might look foolish. People might not get it. Or worse, they don’t even notice. You might feel that pang of embarrassment that makes you want to crawl into a hole and stay there.

But if you can let yourself swing big and miss a few times, the long-term payoff is enormous. You’ll learn faster. Create braver. Fail better. And, ultimately, you’ll make work that matters—work that surprises you, even.

Make the bold choice. Risk falling flat. The ground will still be there, but you might just find yourself flying instead.