The Work You’re Not Supposed to See

Comedy is supposed to feel effortless. That’s the illusion. It is a monologue that when done right, makes the audience feel like it is a conversation (and sometimes hecklers feel compelled to make it a conversation). You want to sound natural, unrehearsed like you are just up there chatting, casually being hilarious, as if you didn’t spend three days trying to decide if “walked into” is funnier than “ran into.”

There’s this myth that good comedians are just naturally funny. And sure, some people are. But stand-up is still an art. Some comics can work off the cuff more than others, but even the most spontaneous moments usually rest on a lot of structure. Comedy is repetition disguised as spontaneity. You’ve told the same joke a hundred times, but you have to say it like you just thought of it in the Uber over.

Crowd work is having a big moment right now. As it should. When it’s done well, it feels electric and alive, like you’re watching something that can never happen again. But what makes that magic possible is the foundation underneath it. The best comics doing crowd work aren’t just winging it; they’re pulling from years of writing, instincts, and practiced timing. From knowing how stand-up works and how jokes are structured.

When I hosted a weekly show in a touristy part of New Orleans, I used to ask the audience where they were from. For most places in the world, I already had a response ready to go. It sounded like riffing, and sometimes it was. Most of the time it was pre-planned and structured. I was acknowledging the audience, bringing them in, and using those moments to connect.

And yes, sometimes true, unplanned magic happens. But even then, those moments work because of everything practiced beneath them. The craft gives the chaos a net.

I say all this to say what I’ve said before: comedy is work. A lot of new comics think they can just get on stage and riff. Sometimes you can. But the freedom to riff, and make it land, comes from doing the work first. Effortless comedy takes effort. A lot of it. But if you do it right, no one ever sees the work — and that’s kind of the beauty of it.