Why I Don't Need The "In Crowd"

C. S. Lewis, Comedy, and Loving the Craft (Comedy Mindhacks #89)

Okay…gut check. This is something I need to write about as a reminder for myself more than anything, but I hope it resonates with others, too. Here it is: if you spend enough time in comedy, you start to notice something that no one really talks about out loud, but everyone feels. There’s always some version of what the great thinker C. S. Lewis called an “inner ring.” There are the comedians who are in and the comedians who are out; there are the ones getting booked and the ones getting passed over; there are the ones who seem in-the-know while others are on-the-outs.

This inner wring phenomenon, wherever it occurs, it’s not really written down anywhere. There’s no official list. But you can definitely feel it and see it. And here’s what I’ve realized: if I’m not careful, that feeling has the ability to shape how I think about the craft itself, how I think about stand-up comedy itself. Why? Because I stop thinking about the craft and start wondering how to get into the inner ring. I start obsessing over who talk to, what rooms matter, and what circles I need access to.

Even worse, I begin to measure my progress not by my own material, but by my proximity to certain people. I tell myself it’s about opportunity, and maybe sometimes it is but, if I’m brutally honest with myself, a whole lot of it’s actually about something else. It’s about the desire to be included, to be on the ins, to not feel like I’m on the outs or on the outside looking in. That desire, of course, isn’t at all unique to comedy. It shows up pretty much everywhere. But stand-up comedy has a crazy way of amplifying it. Maybe that’s because everything feels so visible and so uncertain at the same time.

I can easily see, for instance, who’s getting spots. I can visibly see who’s moving up. I can see with my own eyes who’s getting attention to what degree and what kind. And it becomes very easy to believe that the goal is to get into the right circle(s). Some people may go about it slyly through the back or side door while others barge through the front and try to insert themselves into the group.

This is on my mind because, last week, I was leading a group of college seniors, young adults about ready to launch out into life, through C. S. Lewis’s essay on “The Inner Ring.” I highly recommend reading that essay, by the way. The discussion during that class was super vulnerable and, at times, a bit brutal, too. I had one student reply, “I’m literally about to puke right now; this is hitting so close to home. It’s like a punch in my gut.” Others echoed that sentiment as we talked about various “rings” and “inner rings” on campus and as we discussed putting on fronts to be part of the crowd versus being ourselves or doing what we do for the sheer love and joy of it.

Things start to go sideways when our goal or even a tiny part of our goal is to get into the right circle(s). Again, this is true in most areas of life. If my primary motivation becomes getting into the “in crowd,” the “inner ring,” I will start making decisions I wouldn’t otherwise make just to make it happen. Maybe I’ll adjust my voice, overlook or ignore things that matter to me, whether that is my faith, my values, or my sense of what’s actually funny, all to fit a certain mold, their mold, not mine!

And here’s the crazy part that Lewis picked up on: even if I were get what I think I want, namely, to be part of that exclusive inner ring, it wouldn’t last. Why? Because once I’m in one circle, there’s always another one further in. The target keeps moving. And ultimately, the results are predictable: Comparison will lead to frustration which leads to burnout. It’ll end up being a kind of slow erosion of whatever made me want to do comedy in the first place. I will lose my love for the craft in exchange for something else, something less.

So, my way of dealing with this: stay focused on the craft. I do that by writing jokes I like, telling stories I like, and performing in rooms/venues I like. I do the work because I actually care about it and enjoy the process of building something that works. I do it because I want to get better and because I enjoy it, not to get noticed. And drawing on Lewis, here’s what else I’ve noticed: with this sort of approach, I still end up in circles. BUT… they are not the ones I wanted to chase. These are circles that form naturally. I start connecting with people who are also serious about the craft like I am, people who care about the work like I do, people who show up prepared and keep getting better like I want to.

In these natural circles, there’s no gatekeeping conversations. There’s no sense of trying to prove I belong. I just find myself around people who are doing the same kind of work I’m doing because they love it. And while it looks like an inner ring from the outside, it’s not of the same kind; it’s not a ring built on exclusion. In fact, it’s not even built; it just is. It formed naturally around a shared commitment. It formed from the principle of “like recognizes like.” And the irony, according to Lewis, is that this is the only kind of circle that actually lasts. I know that’s true because I feel it…deep in my gut.

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