The Easiest Part of Stand-Up Comedy
The Bitter Vs. The Builder (Comedy Minhdacks #107)
I spent several hours writing a blog post recently, a post meant to share insights and help other comedians. I put myself out there, I got vulnerable, and I created something I thought was useful. As always, I wrote and rewrote sections multiple times because I wanted the article to genuinely help somebody instead of just making me sound smart online. Then, not long after posting it, somebody reacted with a mocking emoji and nothing else. That was the entirety of their contribution to the conversation.
What struck me afterward was not even the criticism itself. I couldn’t really care less because, honestly, people are free to dislike anything I write, post, perform, or create. What struck me though was how wildly uneven the effort levels were between creating and mocking. One person spent hours trying to build something useful while another person spent less than one second tearing at it casually from the sidelines. And, as we all know, the internet has made that imbalance start to feel normal.
This is very true in the comedy world, too. Which leads me to this point: The longer I stay around stand-up comedy, the more convinced I become that the easiest part of comedy is not writing jokes. It’s not stage presence, networking, crowd work, or bombing publicly while trying to improve. The easiest part is hating. Straight up! More specifically, the easiest part is hating other comedians’ success while contributing almost nothing but negativity.
Comedy scenes almost train people into this mindset, even if accidentally. Here’s what I mean: Everybody’s followers are visible, everybody’s clips are visible, everybody’s crowds, bookings, festivals, and opportunities are visible. Comedy careers can quickly turn into public scoreboards if we let them. I’ve watched comedians sit in the back of clubs critiquing every comic who touches the stage while barely performing themselves anymore. I’ve also watched people dismiss successful comedians as “too clean” or “too safe” the second those comedians start gaining traction. And I’ve watched internet comments fill up with people trying to explain why somebody else’s success somehow “doesn’t count.”
Bitterness is almost omnipresent in the comedy world. Here’s one way to spot it: It typically shows up wearing the disguise of artistic standards. Bitterness loves playing dress up. And what makes this really dangerous is how productive hating can feel psychologically. As someone who has blogged and podcasted and created content for 20+ years, I’ve learned that criticism often creates the illusion of superiority without requiring the vulnerability of creation. As a comedian, for instance, if I convince myself another comedian only succeeded because audiences are dumb, then I never have to honestly wrestle with my own weaknesses. I get to shield myself from self-examination. But really, that’s just me robbing myself from improvement.
I’ve caught myself drifting toward that mindset before, which is one reason I recognize it so quickly now. Comedy can mess with people emotionally because there is no clear ladder upward. Somebody can suddenly leap forward because of one clip, one opportunity, or one connection while other comedians grind quietly for years. It can be tough! And watching that happen repeatedly can poison a person internally if they’re not careful.
I also think one of the saddest parts of comedy is how many scenes describe themselves as “supportive” while quietly operating the exact opposite way underneath the surface. Publicly everybody talks about community, encouragement, and helping each other grow. Then privately the gossip starts, the jealousy starts, and people begin subtly rooting against each other’s progress. That realization disappointed me quite a bit when I first started moving deeper into certain comedy spaces.
Eventually, I stopped expecting unhealthy environments to magically become healthy. How stupid was that expectation anyway?! If a scene is toxic, I should just move on. If people spend more energy hating than building, I should just create my own lane instead. Is it tough to get on shows somewhere? Fine! I’ll produce my own shows. I’ll build my own audience. I’ll focus on comedians who genuinely want to grow instead of choosing to emotional camping out in Camp Bitterness for years.
Here’s another reality: Comedians who are actively building things usually spend very little time obsessing over other comics negatively. They are too busy writing, performing, editing clips, driving to shows, producing events, or trying to improve. Momentum naturally points attention forward instead of sideways to stop and look at others. The comedians trapped in resentment are often the same comedians who quietly stopped building anything themselves. (Next time someone’s hating on you, stop and see if the point I’m making right here holds up!)
Realizing that has helped with how I engage criticism. Actually, I don’t engage it. I ignore it. I genuinely value thoughtful feedback from people I respect because growth requires honesty. But random bitterness from strangers doesn’t carry any emotional weight for me anymore. There’s an old saying that fits comedy perfectly that I’ve mentioned on this site several times: “Never welcome criticism from someone you wouldn’t ask for advice.” The older I get, the wiser that sentence sounds every time I read, write, or say it.
One thing I know after putting myself out there publicly is that it’ll always involve risk and vulnerability. Posting clips, writing blog posts, releasing podcasts, and stepping onto stages all invite criticism automatically. That part comes with the territory whether I like it or not. But I no longer think the solution is becoming smaller, quieter, or less visible just to avoid negative people. I’m going to do my thing regardless. If nobody reads my blog, I’m still going to write. If nobody watches or listens my podcast, I’m still going to do it. Why? Because it’s fulfilling to me.
At the end of the day, hating is easy because it asks almost nothing from a person. Hating is hands down the easiest part of comedy. But building something meaningful demands patience, emotional control, discipline, and consistency over long stretches where progress feels invisible. It’s hard. Anybody can sit online mocking somebody else’s work from a distance. Creating something worthwhile, however, is the harder path, which is probably why so few people choose it. So, rather than be bitter, be a builder. And if you’ve encountered this bitterness from someone else, press on. Keep building.
One last thought: I left the open mic scene about a year ago. Why? It’s just not for me. Maybe you want to get out of that scene, too? If you’re tired of toxic open mics and want access to the exact, field-tested tools I’ve used, tools that have helped me bypass the gatekeepers, haters, and critics and turn raw thoughts into great jokes and sets, I want to invite you to upgrade to a paid subscriber of MichaelHalcomb.Live today.
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