Years back, I read a great breakdown from a sportswriter named Mike Lombardi that changed how I thought about comedy and audiences to anything we do.

He was writing about successful vs. unsuccessful coaches. I’m paraphrasing, but he wrote that on any given team, there’s three types of players: (1) the players who are always going to be engaged, (2) the players who are never going to be engaged, the malcontents, or (3) the majority of the team: the people who can go either way.

Our instinct is to focus our energy on winning over the ones who are not listening. The one throwing a tantrum that everyone has to placate. The disruptive student. The co-worker who won’t acknowledge you. The gatekeepers who are not granting us approval. The people we wish would be our friend, because we respect their work, but they’re withholding their respect. This mistake kills us.

I see this all the time with stand-ups, zeroing in on the one person in the crowd with their arms crossed who’s not even being disruptive. The comic speaks to them, ignoring the room full of people who don’t even see that one miserable fuck. Who knows why they’re miserable. Honestly, who cares.

The writer noted that the successful coaches are the ones who zero in on those listening. Focus on those who are engaged. When you do that, the undecideds see it’s working and they’re swayed to join. And the few malcontents are just alone on an island. You will never win them over. But you don’t need them.

So much energy is spent trying to win over the people who are not listening. And it’s at the expense of people who are listening. This N+1 piece articulately explains how that’s the business model of Netflix. An emphasis on creating “second-screen content,” where you presume the viewer is on their phone, so you make the product specifically for them. Have the characters announce what they’re doing as they’re doing it. Repeat it, repeat it again and again.

It’s essentially Muzak. It’s made so you won’t object to having it play in the background of a lobby or an elevator; it’s not bad, but no one would argue it’s good. You’re not going to pay to hear it or tell your friends to listen to it or wake up thinking about it or access a single emotion from it. It’s just there. Often, it does feel like that what scales the best are things that are simply just there.

I do think that most great art can be enjoyed actively or passively. You can lean forward and see all the nuances and depth and come up with theories or break it down, or you can just sit back and say, ‘Good shit.’ But when you change the process to specifically placate people who don’t want to listen, there’s no amount of spoon-feeding you can do that will make them enjoy it. They won’t revisit it, or remember it. It’s fast-food. It’s meant to be consumed, but not nourishing, so you’re even more thirsty for more junk.

When you focus on the unengaged, when you make your aim for people who are not listening, who are not in the room, who don’t give a shit, you’re disincentivizing the people who are there and ready to be present with you. The people who are on the fence will figure, ‘I might as well tune out, too.’ It’s made for everyone, connects with no one.

I’ve had the most success creatively and accessed the most joy when I’ve just been present with the people in the room and created from that place. From this gig, from these people I trust, from this person who is ready to meet me halfway. I’ve found that when I’ve done that and met that attention, it has blossomed. Some undecideds even lean in. Hopefully more than just generally existing for millions, you’re actually connecting with those in front of you.

This path likely leads to much less money, but that’s a separate conversation.

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