I wake up early. This is alien to me. At home, I wake up in the afternoon, but not any more. At the Fringe, it’s essential to wake up early, inevitably hungover from the night before... and immediately Google search your own name.

Everyone denies they Google their names - but they freakin’ do it! I hit ‘refresh’ on the pages of any media that might have been to my show until I give myself RSI. All comedians MUST do this obsessively every five minutes for days until the publication releases whatever it is they wrote. Once the coverage runs, I am exhausted from the anxiety of wondering what they have written. So I go out and drink loads of coffee (which is so good for anxiety) at a café with a friend while I complain about whatever was written about me, good or bad!

I check my diary and realise that not only do I have my own show, but I’ve put in five different spots around town I need to go to. If you are a good and diligent comedian who loves their craft and is new to the Fringe, you will make sure you go to all those spots and exit-flyer afterwards; if you are me and are tired and old, you wonder ‘What was I thinking, saying I would do this?’ And cancel them all. By now, I’ve lost my voice anyway.

Today my partner and I go to promoter Brett Vincent’s office to get all the good reviews I have so far. We run around town, adding them to my posters. Sometimes producers do this – but Tom and I are doing this because he thinks it will be fun. When people see these latest reviews, they will say: ‘Wow, you are having a wonderful Fringe’. If there are any reviews that run saying a comedian has not been having a good Fringe – we don’t talk about those. No one else talks about them. You pretend they never happened.

Before my show, I check my pre-sales. Whatever they are, they will never be enough. Most Edinburgh Fringe venues don’t have a green room; options are limited to standing in a toilet or loitering awkwardly outside. I choose the latter because it smells better.

The show will go One of Two ways, it will either be the best show of my life, and I will consider myself a comedy god and everyone is lucky that I exist, or there could be an audience that doesn’t laugh once and makes me doubt everything. But the important thing is that you must go to one of the artist bars after the show. Because you are tired, you say: ‘I am only going for one.’ I then stay for a minimum of five drinks and stumble home, questioning why I don’t feel good. I wake up and repeat the process.

Somehow, I seem to have a lot of time and yet no time at all. My head is so full of what is happening with my show, what could be happening with my show and what I want to happen with my show that I find it very difficult to do everyday things such as email publicists back. Anything that exists outside of the Edinburgh Fringe no longer exists for me throughout August. The future doesn’t exist – I am living in the now; I am living in The Fringe. And with that, I must leave… and glue some very important stars onto my posters.

• Abigoliah Schamaun: Legally Cheeky, about her battles with the Home Office to be allowed to stay in the UK, is on at  Just The Tonic at the Tron at 6.20pm.