A little over ten years ago the world was introduced to Drew Lynch via the juggernaut television show America’s Got Talent. Howard Stern interviewed the comedian; Lynch absolutely annihilated his set, and Howie Mandel hit the coveted golden buzzer.

Several specials and countless gigs around the world later, Lynch’s brand is only growing stronger. His reels are hilarious,; his material is relatable, and his specials are thoughtful, personal, and introspective. Many may remember Lynch from AGT or his late-night spots on the likes of Conan, where he pokes fun at his stutter, a trait he gained from a softball to the throat over a decade ago.

His newest special, The Stuttering Comedian, answers every question, corrects every observation, and squashes any doubt that any one has ever had about the injury, all delivered in Lynch’s trademark self-loathing but somehow still very uplifting style of comedy. A self-proclaimed introvert, Lynch wears his heart on his sleeve onstage and off, thriving in a field where maintaining authenticity may be antithetical, but in Lynch’s case, it’s an absolute non-negotiable. We chatted with Lynch just before Christmas and just a month after a show in Spokane, WA gave the comedian a story he’ll tell for a lifetime.

You had a crazy thing happen recently at your show in Spokane. Can you share a bit about that experience?

I’ve had a lot of people ask me about this, and maybe people aren’t sure how to broach the subject, but there was a guy in the audience who had a heart attack, I think it was in the first 12 or 15 minutes of the show. It was something I didn’t notice right away. A lady got up and walked over to him, very deliberate. I realized people were helping the guy to the ground. He was lucky in that we were in a room full of medical professionals.

It was so clinical, they worked quietly but deliberately. They were saying “I’ll be your second!” They were tagging each other in and monitoring vitals and clearing a space for the paramedics. He was dead for over five minutes and he was actually revived before the paramedics even got there. To the credit of everyone in the room, there were RNs and nurses, it was incredible. His name is Dick Wende, and his family has gotten really close to me and my family and friends on the road. We actually just talked to him yesterday, so we keep up with each other. He’s a very special person, and we were very lucky he made it.

It’s a very powerful clip. Thank God there were so many first responders in the crowd.

Everyone was so present; no one was filming it or (doing) anything other than just making themselves available. It was a very human moment.

How do you bounce back from something like that?

It feels bad to say but it was almost harder for me to come back than him (laughs). That’s obviously me being silly. It’s tough to navigate; you have this whole thing happen, and in one way it makes the stakes so high; it’s so grim. What a grim experience. The tone of what the show was sort of had a pre- and post- “this moment happening” vibe. It kind of allowed the tone of the show to have more of an introspective feel to it. It was just more of a reflective experience.

Getting it back to things that are more lighthearted felt so much more accomplished. It was never my goal to force it to be anything other than what it was. I have a job, and I have to acknowledge how difficult this is. and maybe we’ll just build it back, one by one, hopefully with a newfound appreciation for what life is, what a community is, and what’s important right now. The world feels so volatile and hostile. It just kind of textured what the show was labeled as, like, this is a comedy show, but this is a human thing we all just witnessed. It was special.

Like me, a lot of people started following you after seeing your AGT performances. It’s been 10 years! What do you remember about that first time on stage?

I was so excited and so terrified. The thing I was most scared of was the interview beforehand. As a comedian, you’re like, I know my set, but I was almost hyperventilating. I had to call my mom. I know that sounds lame as an adult man, like, one sec, let me call my mother. I told her I was freaking out about the interview. I just didn’t want Howard Stern to talk to me ever (laughs; he’s so intimidating. He’s so authentic, but I was so terrified.

Stuttering is something I have struggled with in my adult life, and it was so prominent at that time. My mom just said, “Be yourself, and the interview will be silly, and you’ll be fine.” Of course I walk out there and Howard is the one who initiates the interview. I know people say that show is chasing a story, and that might be a part of what they’re doing, but they produce it in a way that supports the artists. That show was perfect for my story because it was like, “Here’s the reason why I’m here,” and they gave me the stage to do what I do.

They do a good job of crafting the story for sure. I know a lot of people are cynical about shows like that, but even so, I’m buying it. It’s making me feel something, so whatever.

That show also does a really good job in the vetting process. People think you audition and you’re there in front of the judges, but you’re in multiple rooms over multiple days. They do a great job.

What’s the impact from when you’re on a show like AGT or Conan?

AGT is such a bigger audience, it has such a larger viewership and reach. Back then I think it was like 12 or 13 million people were watching that season. I was nervous to do that show, but I was so much more nervous to do Conan. Families watch AGT; comics watch Conan. I felt like if I could feel a bit more from my peers then it would alleviate some of the pressure I put on myself when it comes to thinking, “I’m a comic who needs a crutch; I’m not an actual comic; I just got lucky because I had a story.”

I was very early into my career when I got on TV. I was three years in when I got on AGT. There’s comics that go 10 or 15 years (before getting on TV), so things have definitely changed from then until now in terms of industry and response. You look for certain validation in the data, right? Here’s what my numbers looked like before, and here’s what they look like now. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve really tried to find the achievements to be much more meaningful and if it matters on an emotional level. Things that aren’t so self-centered or “This is how it has to grow, exactly this way; it has to be input/output; this is what it cost me, and this is what I suffered through, so this is what I deserve, etc.

A lot of that mentality I’ve seen in my career, like, “Will it matter?” I had something happen to me that changed the trajectory of my life, and now I’m in this profession, and I love it. I wasn’t ever supposed to be here. I had to fight these demons or chase them away where this ego or self-manufactured want or this projection (is) that other people have, so I have to have it. It’s gone with the ups and downs with what a career is. I was so thrilled that I got to do AGT, and I got to do Conan and that it translated eventually online. At the end of the day, it really became about “How do you sustain the quiet moments, between all that stuff, am I staying true to myself?” I’m always trying to do that. I never want to get sucked into feeling like I have to get something, and it has to materialize in this way. That’s just so painful. I always try to stay true to myself.

It used to be so different. You hear stories from older comedians who would do something like the Tonight Show in the old days and get calls from networks the next morning. Now you’re on TV one night and back in the dingey club the next.

Absolutely. It kind of quiets that part of you that thinks you have arrived. You’re always looking for, like, “Is the thing I can point  to and say I made it? It doesn’t exist, or at least not the way it used to. Back in the ‘90’s, it was like Harrison Ford or Brad Pitt or Jennifer Anniston got “their break.” That just doesn’t happen as much and that’s probably because of the media landscape. But its probably for the better. Stay true to yourself regardless of what success comes from your work. It really is teaching you to make it about your journey and not about your destination. And yes, this sounds hokey, but that’s what its about.

When you started diving into joke writing, who did you look to? Comedians say they spend the first few years imitating other comics.

Before I ever had my injury, I went on stage maybe once or twice, and I was terrible. I was vain and didn’t have anything to talk about. I did, like, a knock-off Tosh or Louie who was really popular at that time. He was somebody who was irreverent. Here I am, this innocent-looking kid, and it just doesn’t even make sense. Then when the injury happened, the stutter taught me word economy indirectly. It was a lesson on why words matter and how to structure a joke. You can get all the way to the end of your sentence, and the last word or even the last syllable can change the whole context of the sentence. It can change what the audience’s target assumption was. This is what’s nice, this turn, this misdirect of the joke.

I never really understood it. If I was on stage a joke had any fat on it, and it was already difficult to maintain people’s attention, it just made me sharp. I was devasted initially, then grateful that this thing taught me not only how to write but how to edit.

You do a lot with looks, too. You hit a punchline, then you squeeze a few more laughs out of a look. Is that something you worked on as well?

I don’t know that I think too much about it. I grew up acting, and I always loved being on stage. There’s something so adverse about someone with a stutter being on stage in front of people. Even one-on-one conversations are pretty uncomfortable for me. I’m a pretty introverted person, but in front of a whole crowd I love it; I always have. Maybe the acting background plays a role in how something comes out on stage. Its like you learn all the rules, what a joke is, what are the beats and what not to do, then you get to a place where you can do your own version of that.

There doesn’t have to be an exact way that it looks. You hold onto influences, and you try to replicate the rhythm or sound of something, and you do it long enough and you figure out you can do it on your own. Some of the best comics, you’re talking to them right before they go on stage, and they’re the exact same on stage. There’s a comic who said the best comics are the ones who are just being the best versions of themselves.

Watching your latest special, The Stuttering Comedian, you talk about how people are almost disappointed when they meet you and you DON’T stutter. Do you feel like as time goes on you’ll talk about this less and less?

DL: I don’t know what it ever might be. I just know that for years, I’ve explored some holistic modalities trying to rehabilitate this for me because I didn’t want it to define my life anymore, professionally or personally. I didn’t want people to think I needed any handout or needed a crutch or something that could identify me. It so much became about the way I was saying something and not what I was saying. That’s the best way to make someone feel invalidated.

I wanted this special to be for every question anyone could ever have about it—where it came from, how it was, how I feel about it now etc. I wanted it to be all in one place. Like I say in the special, “the stuttering comedian” is kind of a play on the sideshow freak thing that I get a lot of the time. People talk about me like I’m a project, like I’m a shell of a person. People treat you like a thing. I understand that it comes with the territory, but it’s a good reminder that comedians are people too, and we sacrifice a bit just so you can not have to worry about you, and at our expense.

You have some great videos about hecklers. You seem to always give them a lot of chances and you treat them really well. What’s your philosophy on dealing with a heckler?

I think a heckler that’s being combative or hostile is so much easier to deal with because the whole audience is in agreement that its not something we’re going to tolerate. If someone is heckling because they’re so enthusiastic, that’s harder to navigate, to kick someone out because they’re excited to see you. That takes a little more work to navigate them to not interrupt other peoples’ experiences but also support the fact that they’re so excited.

I try to do a good job about not taking any of it personally because you just don’t know where people are coming from. Its even more difficult in this climate because so many people are seeing clips of comedians interacting with hecklers, and people think that’s what a show is. I don’t feel that way. I was lucky enough to start standup where I got to watch a lot of these older guys come from a time where they go on stage with the same 10 minutes, and they try to perfect it. It’s about what you came there to say. You don’t show up on stage, and now the audience is the show; that’s so weird.

My style is to always try to be genuine, let you know if I’m irritated, and do it in a polite way. I consider your feelings and take the audiences’ feelings into consideration. I’m making sure I’m not disrespecting any of my boundaries for what the show should be. I’m looking to “yes and,” and I’m always looking to have something feel interactive or feel unique about that show; I’ll rock with what that is. I try to make sure its never at the expense of someone else or that they feel isolated, awkward pressure or any of that.

Do you have a favorite place to write? What’s that process like for you?

I used to write at coffee shops, but they have too much foot traffic, and I get distracted too easily. Sometimes I’ll go to a lounge and just sit with my laptop, and the curser will blink at me for a while. If I sit down and say, “I HAVE to get this,” I rarely come away with anything good. I just sit and let my mind get a little clear. I don’t wanna put any pressure on myself because I’ve done it for so long; I beat myself up to hit this deadline or get this joke or produce this video. I’m a great employee but I’m a terrible employer to myself (laughs).

As soon as I can get to a place where I’m not putting that pressure on myself, the better. Sometimes it happens right before I go on stage or I’m sitting on the couch or at a lounge. I’ll start with a pithy joke or set up my complaint in a funny way. It’s a nice way to start. Sometimes I work backwards. So much about comedy is musical. You can be dynamic in the middle, or you can be dry and sardonic in how you set it up. It doesn’t always have to sound the same. The fact that there’s a musicality to it helps you get out of your body and head. It’s an artsier way to talk about it. I don’t try to force that I just let it take shape and never force it. That’s my process.

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Photo courtesy of Drew Lynch