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laurafaritos · 1 day ago

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HDMS024. How to Stand Out Without Burning Out: Branding, Differentiation, and Sustainable Creativity

Sooooo, quick update—I’m still deep in the trenches of this Harvard course, and at this point, my brain is basically held together by coffee and sheer stubbornness. I just wrapped up Module 2, which covered how brands differentiate themselves from competitors. We explored how companies position themselves in a crowded market, what makes a value proposition distinctive, defensible, and durable, and why some brands create entirely new product categories while others compete within existing ones.

This module hit home because, well, comedy is an insanely crowded market where standing out is everything. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last eight years, it’s that trying to be everything to everyone is a great way to be unforgettable to no one. Finding a niche and embracing what makes you unique? That’s the real key to longevity—whether you’re selling shoes or selling punchlines.

In this post, I’m breaking down:

What I learned from this module (with examples from OOFOS, e.l.f., and Cialis—yes, really)

My own journey of differentiation in comedy (aka how I finally stopped letting other people dictate my voice)

How I’m managing my career with AuDHD without burning out (because standing out is pointless if you can’t sustain it)

What comedians can learn from brand positioning (and why your “competition” isn’t who you think it is)

Let’s get into it.

I. What I Learned from This Module: How Brands Differentiate Themselves

This module was all about brand positioning—how companies define what makes them unique and how they communicate that value to customers. We explored three key questions every brand needs to answer:

Is your value claim DISTINCTIVE? (Do you offer something truly unique that competitors don’t?)

Is your value claim DEFENSIBLE? (Can you back it up with proof so competitors can’t just copy it?)

Is your value claim DURABLE? (Will it still be relevant in five or ten years, or is it just a trend?)

To bring this to life, we studied three case studies:

e.l.f. Cosmetics: A beauty brand that broke into a crowded market by offering prestige-quality makeup at drugstore prices, making high-end beauty more accessible. Their competitive edge? Price AND speed. While most brands take years to launch new products, e.l.f. can launch a new product in as little as 13 weeks.

OOFOS Recovery Footwear: A brand that could have competed in the comfort shoe market but instead decided to create an entirely new category: recovery footwear. Their competitive edge? Their proprietary OOfoam technology, which absorbs 37% more impact than other shoes.

Cialis vs. Viagra: Instead of trying to convince millions of men who didn’t use ED drugs to start taking Cialis (which would’ve required changing their entire perception of aging and masculinity), Cialis went after Viagra’s existing users and positioned itself as the longer-lasting alternative. Their competitive edge? Instead of marketing the science behind their product, they sold the relationship benefits—helping couples enjoy spontaneous intimacy instead of having to plan around a four-hour window.

Each of these brands had to decide where to compete:

Compete in a crowded space but offer something better?

Or create an entirely new category and own it before competitors catch on?

That last question hit me HARD. Because in comedy, everyone is competing for laughs, but the ones who stand out either do something completely different or deliver something familiar in a way no one else can.

So that got me thinking… How have I positioned myself in comedy? Am I competing in an overcrowded market, or am I carving out a unique space for myself? Turns out, I’ve spent years struggling with this exact question without realizing it.

Let’s talk about that.

II. Finding My Voice in Comedy

I’ve been doing comedy since 2016, but let’s be real—I sucked for the first three years. Then, I was okay for the next three. It’s only in the last two years that I’ve actually started to feel like myself on stage. And this year? For the first time ever, I feel like I’ve fully come into my own.

But why did I struggle for so long?

Because I spent YEARS letting other people tell me what comedy was. What comedians should and shouldn’t do. And I took everything they said as absolute, unquestionable truth.

And now that I know I’m autistic and ADHD (AuDHD), I realize... OH. That explains so much.

It turns out, one of the ways autistic people struggle is with black-and-white thinking. If someone tells me something is a “rule,” my brain takes it as law. I don’t question it. I assume it’s just the way things work.

So when comedy professors, bookers, or other comics told me things like:

“Your stories aren’t stand-up. That’s storytelling. You have to start from scratch.”

“Real comedians do short punchlines, not five-minute stories.”

“You need to focus on being a ‘Brazilian comedian’ because that’s what people expect from you.”

“If you’re too pretty on stage, people won’t take you seriously.”

…I took it all at face value. I thought these weren’t just opinions—I thought they were rules I had to follow to succeed.

So what did I do?

I scrapped everything that made me unique.

Instead of leaning into my natural, longform storytelling style, I forced myself to do tight one-liners. Instead of telling my insane personal experiences, I stuck to basic jokes about being Brazilian—because that’s what I was told the “general audience” wanted. And instead of embracing my natural stage presence, I dimmed myself down because I thought that’s what it took to “make it.”

And guess what?

I BOMBED. For THREE YEARS. Because none of that felt authentic to me.

I wasn’t bad at comedy—I was just trying to be a version of a comedian that didn’t fit me.

The first time I ever killed on stage was when I ignored everything I was taught and told a seven-minute-long story about a man with a milk bag in his pants on the subway.

And the audience LOST IT.

That night rewired my brain.

I realized: Maybe they were wrong. Maybe I could make storytelling work in stand-up. Maybe I didn’t have to follow a cookie-cutter formula to be funny.

And now, years later, I finally get it.

The reason I struggled so much early on is the same reason brands struggle to stand out. I was trying to fit into an already crowded market of comics doing the same type of jokes. But the minute I leaned into what made me different, I found my audience.

So what does this have to do with branding? EVERYTHING.

Because if a comedian—or a brand—doesn’t stand out, they get lost in the noise. And standing out means having the confidence to double down on what makes you different.

III. Managing Burnout with AuDHD: Finding a Sustainable Creative Process

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned—both from comedy and from this Harvard course—is that standing out is pointless if you burn out before you get anywhere. And when you have AuDHD (autism + ADHD), burnout isn’t just a possibility—it’s a guarantee if you don’t manage your energy properly.

For the longest time, I didn’t manage it. I treated my creative process like an all-or-nothing sprint. I’d get hyperfixated on a project, spend days in a row working on it with no breaks, and then completely crash, needing weeks (sometimes months) to recover.

Comedy was no different. I’d go all in on writing new material, scheduling as many shows as I could, forcing myself to do open mics even when I was exhausted—only to hit a wall and disappear for months. And then? I’d feel guilty for not “hustling” enough, and the cycle would repeat.

The AuDHD Burnout Cycle: Work Hard, Crash, Repeat

AuDHD makes burnout deceptively hard to spot in the moment. Because when I’m in a hyperfocus state, I feel unstoppable. I love what I’m working on, my brain is firing on all cylinders, and I genuinely don’t notice my energy draining.

Then suddenly, one day, I wake up and everything feels impossible. My brain fog is unbearable. My body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. I lose motivation to do anything—even things I love.

And that’s when I realize: Oh. I burned out again.

The worst part? My brain tells me that if I’m not constantly producing, I’m falling behind. It makes rest feel like failure, even though it’s literally the only thing that allows me to keep going.

How I’m Learning to Work With My Brain (Instead of Against It)

I’m finally breaking out of that cycle, but it took a lot of trial and error. Here’s what’s been working for me:

Pacing Myself with Rigid Flexibility: I have a structured content calendar, but it’s fluid enough to adapt when my energy shifts. If I wake up in a brain fog, I swap deep work for lighter tasks. If I feel hyperproductive, I batch-create as much as I can while I have the energy.

Working in Task-Based Bursts Instead of Marathon Sessions: Instead of forcing myself to work nonstop for hours, I break tasks into small, manageable chunks and spread them throughout the day. This keeps me engaged without overloading my brain.

Honoring the Hyperfixation While Setting Limits: If I feel obsessed with something, I lean into it—but with a hard stop. I let myself deep dive for a set period (e.g., 3-4 hours), then force a transition (walk, eat, shower) before moving on to something else.

Using Variety to Avoid Overwhelm: If I focus on one thing too long, my brain locks up. So I mix up my work—writing, filming, editing, research—so I don’t hit the mental saturation point.

Tracking My Energy Patterns (and Adjusting Accordingly): I’ve started noticing trends in my focus levels—certain times of day, certain environments, certain triggers. Now I schedule work around my natural rhythms instead of forcing myself to be productive when my brain is in low-power mode.

Reminding Myself That Rest is a Strategy, Not a Reward: The hardest part. Resting before I crash. Taking breaks before I need them. Accepting that sustainability matters more than speed.

Why This Matters for Comedy (And Every Other Creative Career)

Comedy isn’t just about being funny. It’s about consistency. If I’m too burned out to write, perform, or promote myself, it doesn’t matter how good I am. I won’t grow. I won’t get booked. I won’t keep up.

So now, instead of pushing myself until I crash, I focus on longevity. Because standing out is great—but only if I have the energy to keep going.

IV. Applying Brand Differentiation to Comedy: Standing Out in a Saturated Industry

At this point, it’s painfully clear that the entertainment industry (especially comedy) is oversaturated. There are so many comedians out there—each one trying to make a name for themselves, compete for stage time, grow an audience, and get noticed.

Which means that standing out is everything.

But what does that actually mean?

Most comedians assume that standing out means being the funniest person in the room. But here’s the thing:

Funny isn’t enough.

There are a lot of funny people who never get anywhere. And there are a lot of comedians who aren’t technically the funniest—but they still manage to build a massive audience and career.

Why? Because they know how to differentiate themselves.

This is exactly what I’ve been learning from this Harvard module: how to position myself in a way that makes me uniquely valuable to my audience. How to be the person that people actively seek out, remember, and return to—because I offer something they can’t find anywhere else.

Finding My Competitive Advantage as a Comedian

The same way companies have to identify what makes their brand different, comedians have to figure out:

What makes me stand out from every other comedian on stage?

What am I offering that no one else is?

What’s my “thing” that keeps people coming back?

For years, I thought the answer was “just be funny.” But that’s not differentiation. That’s bare minimum.

My actual competitive advantage?

I tell long-form, absurd-yet-relatable stories. Most comedians do short punchy jokes or quick observational humor. My sets lean into structured, narrative storytelling—but with an emphasis on big, wild, theatrical payoffs.

I mix horror, romance, and immigrant humor in a way that feels fresh. I’m a Brazilian immigrant with a deep love for horror and fantasy—so my comedy is this weird blend of spooky, romantic, and deeply cultural. It’s niche but hyper-specific, which makes it memorable.

I’m a hot comedian who isn’t afraid to lean into it. As we’ve already established, a lot of comedians are deeply uncomfortable with the idea of being both “pretty” and “funny.” I used to suppress it—but now? I embrace it because it makes me stand out.

Once I figured these things out, everything changed. My material hit harder. I started getting booked for the right shows. I stopped trying to fit into an industry mold that wasn’t built for me, and instead, I built my own lane.

Lessons from Harvard That Comedians Need to Hear

This module was all about differentiation—how to set yourself apart from the competition in a way that makes your audience choose you. And honestly? Comedians need to think about this just as much as brands do.

Here’s what I’m taking from this lesson and applying to my comedy career:

Stop competing on “funny” alone. Everyone is funny. You need to be unique.

Find what makes you different—and lean into it, hard. Your weird, niche, specific thing? That’s the thing people will remember.

Don’t water yourself down to be “palatable” for everyone. If you try to appeal to everyone, you’ll be memorable to no one.

Your comedy isn’t for everyone, and that’s a good thing. The more you embrace your niche, the stronger your audience will be.

Brand yourself with the same intention as a company does. Think of yourself as a business. What’s your value proposition? Why should people follow you instead of the thousands of other comedians out there?

Owning My Lane Moving Forward

I spent years trying to be the comedian I thought I had to be. Trying to mold myself into what I assumed the industry wanted from me.

Now? I’m building my own brand. I’m owning what makes me different. I’m not trying to be the funniest comedian in general—I’m trying to be the comedian that people who love my style come back to every time.

Because in the end, standing out is the real game-changer.

V. Managing AUDHD Without Burning Out: The Balancing Act of Creativity and Energy

Here’s the thing about being autistic and ADHD (AuDHD) in an industry that thrives on constant output, networking, and high-energy performance: it’s exhausting.

Comedy, content creation, and entrepreneurship all demand a nonstop hustle. You’re expected to always be writing, always performing, always promoting, always engaging. And if you’re not doing that? You feel like you’re falling behind.

For a long time, I thought I just wasn’t built for it. I’d see comedians with endless energy, doing five shows a night, grinding social media, networking like crazy, and never seeming to slow down. Meanwhile, I’d do two back-to-back gigs and need three business days to recover.

It wasn’t until I understood my neurodivergence that I realized:

I’m not lazy—I have a different energy economy. Some people can do multiple shows a night. I can’t. But I can produce and curate unique experiences that other people can’t.

I need to manage my creative output like a limited resource. If I try to go all-in all the time, I’ll burn out. But if I pace myself? I can maintain my creative momentum.

My workflow has to match my brain, not the other way around. Trying to force myself into a neurotypical routine is a recipe for failure. Instead, I’ve built systems that work with how my brain naturally functions.

How I’m Structuring My Comedy Career Without Overloading My Brain

Most comedians follow the traditional grind model—constantly performing, hitting every open mic, and burning themselves out in the name of "putting in the reps."

That does not work for me. So I’ve built my own system.

Batching instead of daily grind.

Instead of forcing myself to constantly write and perform new material every single week, I batch my creativity into intense deep-dive sessions.

I’ll spend a few hyperfixation days writing and refining, then space out my performances so I’m not draining myself every night.

Strategic energy management.

I schedule low-energy tasks (writing, editing, admin) on my downtime days.

High-energy tasks (performing, networking, recording) are spread out so I don’t crash.

If I do a big show, I block out recovery time the next day so I don’t accidentally tank my entire week.

Automating and outsourcing the stuff that drains me.

Scheduling social media posts in batches so I don’t have to manually post every day.

Using email templates for business inquiries so I don’t have to write the same responses repeatedly.

Delegating tasks when I can (eventually hiring an editor, social media assistant, etc.).

Listening to my brain instead of fighting it.

If I’m hyperfocused, I ride the wave and get as much done as possible.

If I’m burnt out, I don’t force productivity. I allow myself to rest, recharge, and come back stronger.

Redefining “Success” Without the Burnout

For years, I measured my progress based on how much I was grinding. If I wasn’t doing as much as everyone else, I felt like I was falling behind.

Now, I measure my success by:

✅ Consistency over intensity. Instead of going hard for a month and burning out, I focus on a sustainable routine that I can maintain long-term. ✅ Impact over quantity. I’d rather put out fewer, high-quality performances and content than drown myself in mediocre, rushed work just to “keep up.” ✅ Personal milestones instead of comparison. My career moves at my pace. If I’m making progress that feels right for me, that’s enough.

The Bottom Line: I’m Building a Career That Works for Me, Not Against Me

I’m done with the unsustainable grind. I’m building my career strategically, with longevity in mind. That means honoring how my brain actually works, instead of constantly pushing against it.

If that means I take longer to get there, so be it. Because I’d rather succeed at my own pace than burn out trying to keep up with someone else’s.

VI. How Comedians Can Stand Out Without Burning Out

We’ve talked about brand positioning in the context of business and marketing, but let’s bring it back to comedy.

Brand positioning is about what makes you different. What makes you stand out in a crowded space? What’s the thing only you can do?

When I first started stand-up, I didn’t think about this at all. I was too busy trying to fit into what other comedians were doing. I took their advice as absolute rules, even when it didn’t feel right for me.

Now, I realize that comedy—like branding—is about differentiation. It’s about finding and owning what makes you unique, instead of chasing someone else’s formula.

The Three Cs of Brand Positioning in Comedy

We learned that strong brand positioning considers:

1️⃣ Consumer Analysis → What does your audience connect with? 2️⃣ Competitive Analysis → What makes you different from other comedians? 3️⃣ Company (Personal) Strengths → What are you uniquely good at?

If you’re a comedian, applying this means figuring out your comedic identity through the same framework.

Let’s break it down:

1. Consumer Analysis: What Does Your Audience Connect With?

Every comedian has an audience. The sooner you figure out who yours is, the better.

What kind of people laugh hardest at your jokes?

What topics do people love hearing you talk about?

What jokes get the biggest reactions (online or onstage)?

I used to think I had to be funny for everyone. Now I know that not everyone is my audience. My best sets happen when I talk about the stuff that matters to me, and the right people resonate with it.

2. Competitive Analysis: What Makes You Different From Other Comedians?

Comedy is like marketing—there are a lot of people doing the same thing. If you’re just blending in, why would anyone remember you?

What’s your angle that makes you different?

What do you bring to the table that nobody else does?

What’s the unique thing only you can do?

For a long time, I was trying to fit into what other comedians thought stand-up should be. I was forcing myself to do shorter, punchier jokes when my brain naturally works in long-form storytelling.

Once I embraced my own style, everything clicked. I’m not a one-liner comic. I’m a storyteller. And that’s what makes me memorable.

3. Personal Strengths: What Are You Naturally Good At?

One of the biggest mistakes comedians make is trying to be something they’re not.

If you’re naturally a physical comedian, lean into it.

If you’re great at crowd work, make it a signature move.

If you thrive in long-form storytelling, don’t force yourself into short-form one-liners.

A huge turning point for me was accepting my strengths instead of fighting them.

I tell insane, lived-experience stories.

I bring a dark, weird, hyperverbal energy.

I love horror, relationships, and immigrant humor.

Instead of molding myself into what I thought comedy should be, I built my comedy around my natural strengths.

The Takeaway: Your Brand as a Comedian is Your Differentiation

If you want to stand out without burning out, you need to know:

✅ Who your audience is. ✅ What makes you different. ✅ What strengths you naturally bring.

Instead of chasing someone else’s formula, build a career that works for you. Your comedic voice is your brand. And when you own it? That’s when you start attracting the right audience and building something sustainable.

VI. What Comedians Can Learn About Brand Positioning

Comedy is an art, but building a comedy career is branding. You might think you’re just being yourself on stage, but audiences—and industry professionals—see you as a brand.

And just like any other brand, comedians need to stand out. The key lesson from this module? You don’t just want to be considered the best—you want to be considered the only one who does what you do.

Take e.l.f. Cosmetics, for example. Instead of competing in the overcrowded beauty market by mimicking luxury brands, they carved out a unique space: prestige quality at drugstore prices. They made sure their value was distinctive, defensible, and durable.

Now, apply that to comedy.

Distinctive: What makes your comedic voice different from every other comedian on the lineup? What do you offer that no one else does? If a booker is scrolling through a list of comics, why should they pick you?

Defensible: Can you prove your value? Do you have a strong POV, consistent comedic style, or audience that already resonates with your material? Can you show that your approach works—whether through social media engagement, killer clips, or audience testimonials?

Durable: Will your brand stand the test of time? Or are you chasing trends that will disappear in a year? If you’re building a career off of crowd work clips but hate doing crowd work, that’s not a durable strategy. If you’ve built a following off of niche references that will date quickly, what’s your next move?

Too many comedians get stuck chasing whatever works in the short term. But if you want longevity in comedy, you need a brand positioning strategy that’s built to last.

VII. How Comedians Can Balance Authenticity and Strategy

At the end of the day, branding isn’t about faking something you’re not—it’s about getting clear on what makes you different and making sure the right people recognize it.

For years, I struggled with this. I tried to fit into molds that didn’t suit me, whether it was shortening my stories to fit “traditional” stand-up structures or dressing down because I was told pretty comedians weren’t taken seriously. But now I realize: the best strategy is to double down on what makes you, YOU.

Brand positioning isn’t about making yourself palatable to everyone. It’s about finding your audience—the people who will ride or die for your comedy because it speaks directly to them. The industry isn’t looking for another generic comedian who plays it safe. They’re looking for voices that stand out, that bring something fresh to the table.

That doesn’t mean ignoring feedback or refusing to adapt. But it does mean knowing when to stand your ground. Not every note is a rule. Not every opinion is fact. And not every industry trend is worth following.

So, whether you’re a comedian, a creative, or just someone trying to build a career without losing yourself in the process, remember this: The goal isn’t just to stand out—it’s to do it in a way that doesn’t burn you out.

You don’t have to change everything about yourself to succeed. You just have to be strategic about amplifying what makes you different.

TL;DR: How to Stand Out Without Burning Out

Aaaaand that was the post!!! You've made it to the end!!!

So, let's recap: branding isn’t about making yourself likable to everyone—it’s about getting the right people to recognize and value what makes you unique. In this post, I broke down:

✅ The Harvard lesson on competitive brand positioning—how brands like OOFOS and e.l.f. differentiate themselves and what makes a value proposition distinctive, defensible, and durable. ✅ My experience with standing out in comedy—why my early career sucked, how I fell into the trap of taking industry “rules” too literally, and what finally helped me find my voice. ✅ How I’m applying these lessons moving forward—doubling down on my strengths, trusting my instincts, and staying true to what makes my comedy unique. ✅ Managing all of this without burnout—balancing self-promotion with self-preservation, navigating creative work with AuDHD, and protecting my energy while building my brand. ✅ What comedians can learn from this—how to craft a unique brand without losing themselves, finding the right audience instead of trying to appeal to everyone, and knowing when to ignore bad advice.

🚀 Key takeaway: The goal isn’t just to stand out—it’s to do it in a way that doesn’t burn you out.

Hope this was as life-changing a lesson for you as it was for me.

See you in the next one!!! Tchau, tchau <3

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laurafaritos · 3 days ago

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HDMS022. What a Milkshake Taught Me About Branding—And How Comedians Can Use It to Build Their Audience

Soooo… as we’ve established, I’m a comedian, and Harvard is kicking my ass. I survived 35 hours of Module 1. I’ve spent 40 hours on Module 2. And now, as I write this? I’m barely starting Module 3—even though Module 4 is due in two days.

I am chronically behind, debating whether to request an extension. But… do I need official paperwork? A doctor’s note? By the time I get an appointment, the course will be over.

So, screw it. No weekend plans. No distractions. Just me, my laptop, and my blind Brazilian ambition.

Anyway. What’s today’s post about, you ask??? Milkshakes. Yes. Milkshakes. Stay with me. I promise it's worth it.

Today’s Harvard lesson just shattered everything I thought I knew about branding. And not just for businesses—for comedians, too.

So this blog post is for YOU if you’ve ever struggled with:

Standing out in comedy

Getting booked for shows

Building an audience that actually comes back

Then this milkshake lesson might just change the way you approach your career. It surely affected the way I'm going about it moving on.

Because branding is not about what you think makes you special. It’s about what your audience actually needs!!! And that realization hit me harder than any comedy school critique ever did.

I. Harvard Recap: The 3 Cs of Brand Positioning—And What a Milkshake Taught Me About Branding

Harvard introduced me to the 3 Cs Model of Brand Positioning, a framework that helps businesses figure out how to position their brand in a way that actually matters to their audience. It’s not just about having a cool product or service; it’s about making sure people understand why they need it, why they should choose it over the competition, and what makes it truly different.

The 3 Cs stand for:

Consumer Analysis – Is your product relevant to the people you're trying to reach? Does it solve a real problem for them?

Competitive Analysis – How do you stand out from others offering a similar product? What makes you different?

Company Analysis – What does your business do better than anyone else? What unique value do you bring to the table?

Each of these Cs plays a major role in shaping a brand’s positioning. Harvard used milkshakes to explain how this all works, and honestly? It was one of the most unexpectedly genius branding lessons I’ve ever come across.

1. Consumer Analysis: Why Are People Buying Your Product?

One of the biggest mistakes businesses make is assuming they already know why customers choose their product. They focus on things like features, prices, or deals, thinking that’s what matters most. But in reality, people often make purchasing decisions for reasons that have nothing to do with the surface-level benefits a company advertises.

Harvard introduced this concept through Clayton Christensen’s “Jobs to Be Done” framework, using the milkshake example to prove the point.

A fast-food company wanted to increase milkshake sales, so they followed what seemed like common sense: they made the shakes thicker, experimented with flavors, and ran promotions. But sales barely moved.

Then Christensen and his team asked a different question:

👉 What job are customers “hiring” the milkshake to do?

Instead of just looking at the product itself, they observed people actually buying milkshakes. The patterns were surprising: most milkshake buyers came in early in the morning, alone, taking their shakes to go. They weren’t treating themselves to a dessert—they were using the milkshake to make their long, boring commute more bearable.

Compared to other breakfast options, the milkshake had some unexpected advantages. Bagels were too messy. Bananas were gone in two bites. Coffee disappeared too quickly. But a thick, slow-to-drink milkshake? It lasted the whole ride, was easy to consume one-handed, and provided enough energy to keep them satisfied until lunch.

The fast-food chain had been marketing flavors and quality, but their customers weren’t buying milkshakes because of the taste. They were buying them because they made commutes easier. When the company shifted its branding to highlight this, sales took off.

This was a huge eye-opener for me. It’s so easy to focus on what you think makes your product or service great without stopping to ask, what are people actually getting out of this?

2. Competitive Analysis: How Do You Stand Out?

Understanding why people buy from you is only the first step. The next question is:

👉 Why should they buy from you instead of someone else?

Every market is packed with competition. No matter what you’re selling—whether it’s shoes, apps, or even stand-up comedy shows—you’re competing with tons of other options. If you position yourself exactly like your competitors, you disappear into the noise.

Harvard used OOFOS, a shoe company, as an example. OOFOS had a challenge: they were competing in the comfort footwear market against giants like Nike, Adidas, and Crocs. If they tried to sell themselves as just another comfortable shoe, they would blend in.

Instead, they chose a different path. Instead of marketing themselves as comfort shoes, they positioned themselves as recovery footwear—shoes designed to help people’s feet heal after workouts or long days standing. This made them unique and gave them a strong selling point.

By narrowing their positioning, OOFOS avoided the trap of trying to appeal to everyone. They weren’t just another “comfy shoe” brand; they were the brand for people who needed real foot relief.

This clicked for me as a comedian. If I try to be everything to everyone, I end up being forgettable. But if I lean into what makes me different? That’s where the magic happens.

3. Company Analysis: What Do You Do Best?

The last C is about looking inward. What is your brand’s unique strength? What do you do better than anyone else?

For OOFOS, it wasn’t just comfort—it was their patented foam technology that genuinely helped with foot recovery. For Amazon, it wasn’t just low prices—it was the combination of convenience, speed, and selection. For Apple, it’s not just tech—it’s design, user experience, and brand loyalty.

This step is about identifying what you do best and doubling down on it.

The Takeaway: The 3 Cs in Action

By analyzing:

✅ Consumers (Why do people actually buy from you?) ✅ Competition (How do you stand out?) ✅ Your Company (What’s your biggest strength?)

You can create a brand positioning that actually works.

This isn’t just for businesses—it applies to creatives, freelancers, and anyone building an audience, too. If you know what makes you different, you can attract the right people and build something with longevity.

What This Means for Me as a Comedian

Comedy might seem like an art form, but it’s also a business. And if I’m being honest? For a long time, I had no idea how to position myself within it.

For years, I struggled with my comedic identity because I was constantly trying to fit into what I thought a comedian should be instead of embracing what made me unique. I let industry professionals, other comedians, and even my own doubts shape my material, thinking that if someone told me something once, it must be an absolute rule.

Spoiler: It wasn’t.

It took me years to realize that I was treating comedy the way businesses treat their products before they understand branding. I was ignoring my strengths and instead trying to be palatable to everyone.

The moment I started applying the same branding principles Harvard teaches businesses—understanding my audience, figuring out what makes me different, and leaning into my strengths—everything started to click.

It was the difference between trying to make jokes everyone would like and telling the stories I actually cared about. The difference between awkwardly forcing myself into a mold and fully embracing my style. The difference between feeling like an outsider and realizing that my niche was my strength all along.

Branding isn’t just about selling a product—it’s about making people connect with what you offer. Whether that’s a milkshake, a pair of shoes, or a stand-up set, the same rules apply. And when you understand them? That’s when things finally start falling into place.

II. My Comedy Identity Crisis and Finding My Voice

1. The First Three Years: Why I Sucked at Comedy

I’ve been doing comedy since 2016, but if we’re being completely honest? I sucked for the first three years. The next three years, I was okay—good enough to get booked, but still feeling like something was off. It wasn’t until the last two years that I finally started to find my voice again. And this year—2024—is the first year I feel like I’ve fully come into my own.

So what went wrong in those early years? Why did I struggle for so long? Looking back, the biggest issue was that I let other people define what comedy was for me. I assumed that because they had more experience, they must be right. If they told me something once, I took it as an absolute rule instead of just an opinion.

At the time, I had no idea that this was part of being autistic. I didn’t know I was AuDHD (Autism + ADHD), so I never questioned why I had such a strong need for rules and structure. I thought if someone with more experience than me gave advice, it was because they knew better—so I should follow it. I didn’t realize that not all advice is law. Just because someone says, “Comedians should do X,” doesn’t mean every comedian must do X. But I couldn’t see that back then. I was so eager to be good at comedy that I let other people rewrite my entire approach, even when it went against my instincts.

2. Throwing Away What Made Me Funny

When I started stand-up, I already had some of my best stories lined up. I had the man with the milk bag, the time I fought a raccoon for a bag of Doritos, the stupidest questions Canadians asked me about Brazil, and countless bizarre moments from my immigrant experience. These stories were already funny. They made people laugh in real life, and they felt natural to me. But my professors told me these weren’t “stand-up”—they were storytelling. And according to them, real comedians tell quick jokes and tight one-liners.

So instead of refining what I had, I scrapped everything and started from scratch. I stopped telling my weird, longform stories. I tried to force myself into a format that wasn’t natural for me. And as a result, I lost what made me unique. For three years, I struggled because I was following rules that weren’t actually rules.

Another issue was that since I’m Brazilian but don’t look or sound Brazilian, my professors told me my entire act should revolve around that. They thought that was my biggest “hook.” So for three years, I did what they told me—I went on stage and forced myself to joke about how I didn’t look Brazilian, about people’s confusion when they heard my accent, about the stereotypes I didn’t fit.

But none of it felt real to me. I didn’t care about those jokes. That wasn’t where my comedy brain naturally went. And audiences could tell I didn’t believe in what I was saying. My performances lacked energy, confidence, and connection—because I wasn’t being me.

3. The Night Everything Changed

Then, in 2022, something shifted. I threw out all the advice I had absorbed like gospel, went on stage, and told a single story—the Milk Bag Story.

And I killed.

To this day, people who were in that audience remember that story. Not the stale, forced jokes I spent years trying to make work. Not the generic, “palatable” material. They remembered the moment I stopped following rules and started following my instincts. That night rewired my brain.

For so long, I treated other people’s feedback as unchangeable truth. If someone said, “Comedians should do X,” I’d assume all comedians must do X. But now that I understand my neurodivergence, I’ve realized that their feedback wasn’t a law—it was just their opinion. I wasn’t obligated to agree with them. I was allowed to say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” I never had to start over from scratch. I could have said, “This is my voice—help me shape it into stand-up instead of erasing it.” I wish I had known this years ago. But now that I do, I’ll never let it happen again.

4. Reclaiming My Identity as a Comedian

Since reclaiming my comedic identity, everything has changed. I lean into my natural style. I’m a longform storyteller, not a one-liner comic. I focus on what excites me. I don’t force myself to write jokes about topics that don’t interest me. I embrace my neurodivergence. My brain works differently, and that’s not a weakness—it’s a strength. And most importantly, I don’t try to be “palatable” anymore.

One of the biggest lies I was told in comedy school was that you have to be likable to the general audience. That if people find you even slightly controversial, your career is doomed. But trying to be everything to everyone makes you forgettable. Trying to please everyone makes you inauthentic. If I have to water down who I am to be “palatable,” then I’m not doing my job as a comedian.

5. The Pretty Privilege Myth in Comedy

I also wasted years believing another lie—that if I looked too pretty on stage, people wouldn’t take me seriously. For the first five years I did comedy, I never recorded my shows or posted clips online because I looked ugly on stage. Why? Because other comedians told me that if I looked too pretty, people wouldn’t think I was funny. Then I saw Matt Rife go viral for being both funny and hot, and I realized that people love comedians who are attractive and talented.

So why was I holding myself back?

Now, I’m fully embracing the hot vampire aesthetic. Because at the end of the day? Comedy is showbiz—and in showbiz, looks do matter.

6. No More “Rules”, Only "Opinions"

I spent years trying to shape myself into what I thought a comedian should be. But the moment I stopped listening to the rules and started listening to myself, everything changed. This is the first year I feel like I’ve truly come into my own. And I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

III. The AuDHD Creative Experience: Why I Took Rules & Opinions Too Literally

For the longest time, I thought my struggles in comedy were just a “me” problem. I assumed I just wasn’t talented enough, that I wasn’t getting it, that I had to work harder to fit into what comedy was “supposed” to be. But now that I know I have AuDHD—Autism and ADHD combined—I realize that my struggles were actually a direct result of how my brain processes information.

Why I Took Comedy “Rules” as Gospel

One of the biggest signs of my autism is my tendency to take things literally—especially rules. When someone tells me, “This is how things are done,” my brain immediately assumes it’s an absolute fact. I struggle with that grey area where things are actually just suggestions, interpretations, or personal opinions.

So when comedy professors, bookers, and veteran comedians told me:

“Real comedians tell short jokes, not long stories.”

“If you’re Brazilian, your whole act should be about being Brazilian.”

“If you look too pretty on stage, people won’t take you seriously.”

I didn’t question any of it. I didn’t even stop to think, Wait—do I actually agree with this? My brain just accepted it as truth, and I reshaped my entire approach to comedy around it. Even when those changes felt wrong—even when I bombed because I was forcing myself into a style that didn’t suit me—I still assumed the issue was me, not the rules I was following.

This is a common autism experience. Many of us take authority figures at their word because we struggle to differentiate between guidelines and laws. When someone presents something as a universal truth, we absorb it as such—even if that thing is actually just their personal take.

The ADHD Side: Hyperfixation and Trial-and-Error

On the flip side, ADHD made my journey even more chaotic. My brain loves hyperfixation. When I’m obsessed with something, I want to know everything about it, and I will deep-dive into research until I feel like an expert. But ADHD also means that if something isn’t clicking for me, I can get frustrated and drop it entirely.

For years, I kept hyperfixating on “fixing” my comedy, thinking that if I just followed the right formula, I’d finally break through. But I was constantly hitting walls because I was applying the wrong methods. Instead of fine-tuning what made me naturally funny, I was trying to “fix” myself by forcing myself to write and perform in a way that didn’t work for my brain.

Once I stopped trying to force myself into a neurotypical approach and embraced my natural strengths, everything changed. I realized:

My comedy is storytelling, and that’s not a weakness—it’s my LITERAL FUCKING BRAND!!!!! It's my unique value proposition!!!

I don’t need to cater to the “general audience”!!! I am not for everyone—and that’s a good thing!!!

I don’t have to change my delivery or stage presence just because someone thinks I should!!!

This is the first year I feel like I fully understand who I am as a comedian. And a huge part of that is because I finally stopped trying to fit into a box that wasn’t made for me.

IV. My Saga to Finding My Voice: Why I Sucked for 3 Years

Now that we've talked about all the things that affected me as a late-diagnosed AuDHD girl who was not aware she was exhibiting autistc traits by taking advice, opinions and rules far too seriously...

Let's talk about what was going on during those first 3 years that I sucked at comedy. As we've established, why did I suck? Because I relied on other people to tell me what comedy was, what comedians “should” and “shouldn’t” do, and I took everything I was told as if they were absolute, unshakable rules. But they weren't!

1. The Danger of Taking Advice as Law

So, what were these so-called “rules” that derailed me for years?

“Your jokes should be 2-3 minutes long. Anything longer is storytelling, not stand-up.” → Guess what? My natural comedic rhythm is 5-7 minute stories. That’s just how my brain works. But instead of owning that, I forced myself into short joke formats that felt unnatural and unfunny.

“If you’re Brazilian, your comedy should focus on not looking or sounding Brazilian.” → This one was extra painful. I spent years trying to craft material around the fact that I don’t fit people’s stereotypes of a Brazilian woman. But I never actually cared about that as a defining trait. And the audience could tell I wasn’t connected to my material, so those jokes flopped.

“If you’re too pretty on stage, people won’t take you seriously.” → This one kept me from recording my sets, posting online, and even allowing myself to look good for the first five years of my career. But then I saw Matt Rife blow up for being hot and funny, and I realized... they were wrong. People love a hot comedian. And even if they didn’t—I love looking good, and I’m not going to make myself ugly for laughs.

2. The Moment Everything Changed

Two years ago, I did a set where I scrapped all the forced “short-form” jokes and just told one long story: The Man With the Milk Bag. And I killed it. It was the first time I felt like I truly connected with the audience. People still bring up that story to me years later. That was the night my brain rewired itself—I realized that all the “rules” I had been following were wrong for me.

Then, on January 31, 2025, at Haunted Comedians, I performed a set that everyone agreed was my best ever. My friends had heard me tell these stories before, but they saw a difference: my delivery was sharper, my confidence was stronger, and for the first time ever, I felt like I truly owned the stage.

So now, when people give me comedy advice, I remind myself:

Their opinion is not law.

I don’t have to change my style to fit their expectations.

I can reject advice that doesn’t serve me.

It took me almost a decade to get here, but I finally found my comedic voice. And I’m never letting anyone take that away again.

V. Why Do I Keep Bringing Up My AuDHD

When I look back on my comedy journey, so many of my struggles make perfect sense through the lens of AuDHD (Autism + ADHD). My brain wasn’t just struggling with the typical challenges of learning stand-up—it was also navigating:

Rigid Thinking (Autism Side): Taking advice as absolute, unchangeable rules. When someone said, "Comedians should do X," I didn't see it as an opinion—I saw it as law.

Rejection Sensitivity (ADHD Side): The deep fear that if I didn’t follow the rules exactly, I’d be seen as a failure, rejected by the industry, or worse—laughed at for the wrong reasons.

Masking & People-Pleasing: Trying to shape my comedy to fit what others expected instead of trusting my instincts.

1. Rule-Taking vs. Rule-Breaking

One of the hardest things about being AuDHD in a creative field is that the same brain that hyper-focuses on storytelling, structure, and pattern recognition can also cling to structure too hard—even when it’s not serving me.

I spent years trying to “fix” my comedy based on what professors, bookers, and other comedians told me. I thought if I just followed the formula, I’d become successful. But that formula wasn’t for me. It was designed for neurotypical comedians.

The moment I stopped trying to be “the kind of comedian I was told to be” and started leaning into the kind of storyteller I naturally am, everything clicked.

2. The Importance of Niche Over Mass Appeal

Comedy schools taught me that I had to be palatable to the general audience, which meant:

Cutting anything that might alienate someone (even if it was authentic to me).

Leaning into the most surface-level aspects of my identity (“You're Brazilian, so talk about that!”).

Avoiding anything “too niche” because it wouldn’t sell.

But here’s what I’ve learned: I don’t need to appeal to everyone—I just need to find my people. The reality is, mass appeal is a myth. Even the biggest comedians don’t appeal to everyone. Instead, they dominate their niche.

As someone with AuDHD, I was always going to have a niche audience. Neurodivergent people tend to have:

Specific humor styles that not everyone “gets.”

Passionate special interests that become central to their work.

Unfiltered honesty that might alienate some, but deeply resonate with others.

So instead of trying to be watered-down enough for everyone, I realized I should embrace the traits that make me different. If someone doesn’t like my comedy, that doesn’t mean I need to change—it means they’re not my audience.

And that’s okay. Because the people who do get it? They really get it.

3. Letting Go of the Fear of Being "Too Much"

The final lesson I’ve had to unlearn is this: I don’t have to be less of myself to succeed. For years, I tried to shrink my personality, tone down my humor, and make myself fit into a mold that wasn’t mine.

But now?

I tell my long-ass stories.

I wear whatever the hell I want on stage.

I don’t cut my jokes down to “acceptable” lengths—I make them work in my natural style.

Because the goal isn’t to be universally liked—it’s to be unmistakably me. And if I build my career around that? The right audience will find me.

VI. Milkshakes, Milk Bags & Microphones: On The Power of Knowing Your Brand

So, what did we learn today?

Branding isn’t just about what you sell—it’s about what problem you solve. Just like that milkshake wasn’t just a drink, but a solution for long, boring commutes, my comedy isn’t just about jokes—it’s about storytelling that resonates deeply with people who connect with my experiences, my neurodivergence, and my humor.

Knowing your audience is more powerful than trying to appeal to everyone. Comedy school told me to be “palatable.” But palatable often means forgettable. The most successful comedians (and businesses) lean into their specific voice, not a watered-down version of themselves.

AuDHD has shaped the way I process advice, rules, and expectations. And now that I know this, I can work with my brain instead of against it.

The biggest shift for me? I’m no longer trying to prove myself to the wrong people. Instead, I’m building an audience of the right people.

And if that means some people don’t get my humor? That’s fine.

Because the ones who do? They’ll remember me forever.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Harvard module to catch up on.

TL;DR: Final Thoughts

A milkshake became a top seller because the brand figured out why people were really buying it.

OOFOS is struggling with its branding because it doesn’t know whether to be the “comfort shoe” or the “recovery shoe.”

I struggled with my branding as a comedian for years because I let other people define it for me.

Knowing my niche (neurodivergent storytelling + longform humor) helped me stop fighting against my instincts and start thriving.

You don’t have to be for everyone. You just have to be unmistakably you.

Thanks for reading. I hope this has been as life-changing a lesson for you as it is for me. See you in the next one!!!

Tchau. tchau <3

#ComedyBusiness #StandUpComedy #ComediansOfInstagram #MarketingForCreatives #HarvardDigitalMarketing #Branding #FindingYourVoice #NeurodivergentComedy #AuDHD #Storytelling

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