Since the age of sixteen, I’ve worked many jobs to pay the bills. I’ve been a bank teller, subpoena server, skincare salesman, doorman, vending machine repairman, pizza chef, theatre teacher, TV writer, host, and even a comic book writer. I’ve optioned screenplays, developed numerous TV pilots, and ghostwritten award speeches for other comedy writers. But no matter what the hustle, I have always been a comedian. The insanity of life—the pain, horror, magic, stupidity, beauty, ridiculousness, kindness and tragedy of it all—is always something I want to make fun of.
When I was young, I was a fan of Eddie Murphy, Steven Wright, Pryor and Carlin. Also, Bill Cosby and Woody Allen, but, well—you know. Despite my love of stand-up, being one felt too abstract.
Then, when I was twenty-one, I saw Spalding Gray sit at a desk and tell a story about his life. It blew me away, and I knew right then that that was what I wanted to do with mine. I just didn’t know how. Years later, I wandered into the Nuyorican Café on the Lower East Side and discovered The Moth StorySLAM: a show where anyone can drop their name in a tote bag and get picked to get up on stage and tell a true, first-person, five-minute story. Without any preparation or thought, I put my name in. I was picked, and a few minutes later I jumped on stage and told a story about my life. I won the slam that night—and the next fourteen slams after that.
At the same time, I had also started doing comedy shows at The Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. I did improv, stand-up, and sketch. When I started solo shows about my life, I really found my voice. To my surprise, I got great press, and my one-person shows started selling out.
Soon after, my 3rd solo show, “First Day Off in a Long Time,” was selected to be performed at the HBO Comedy Festival in Aspen, where I met industry folk. After, I moved to LA. My first week there, I sold a pilot to FOX. Around the same time, The Moth asked me to help them launch their first StorySLAM outside of New York. I helped by producing, hosting, and telling stories to an ever-growing new audience.
Next, I developed a second pilot with comedian Gabriel Iglesias and then wrote comedy monologues for The Ellen DeGeneres Show. While at Ellen, my writing was nominated for two Emmys.
All the while, I toured six more solo shows around the U.S., Australia, and New Zealand. I also continue to host and perform with The Moth. I have had multiple stories on The Moth Radio Hour, and I have a story published in The Moth’s first book, 50 True Stories. I also frequently appear on other NPR shows, including Good Food, The Business, and Marketplace.
Despite all this, I have had way more failures than successes.
I have written so many things that made no money. Things that only my wife and agent ever read. To be honest, I’m not even one hundred percent sure either of them read a lot of what I have sent them.
These failures include:
- A memoir called Wrestling Billy Joel that my agent told me was too depressing to sell.
- A TV one-hour drama about a cop with early-onset dementia.
- A half-hour sitcom called Gen F’d about two parents who hate their teenage influencer kid—but at the same time live off of her money.
- A screenplay about a heist where a twenty-something couple fakes a sexual harassment case to sue the bank they work at.
And on, and on.
It’s all stupid. Or, to quote William Goldman, “Nobody knows anything.” Luckily, one good thing about spending my life in comedy is that even my broken dreams are funny to me.