How To *Not* Succeed in Show business

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• September 2, 2025

For fans or concerned friends, no I am not entirely quitting comedy and definitely not giving up on writing, but yes, times are tough and I stand at a cross roads in my life where I’ve honed a very specific skill, and yet I have few skills to thrive in modern society anymore. I feel like a relic from another time. And New York, once my favorite muse, broke my heart too many times to count. I’m still swinging, but like a person whose mind stands on the cliff of insanity, I’m swinging that bat at bees that I don’t even think are there anymore. The stand up scene is brutal. I recently lost my joke writing job for Gutfeld (more on this later), and any time I pitch a screenplay, people say I’m a good writer but don’t hire me.

There are a lot of ways to succeed in show business. There are even more ways not to. This is not meant to dissuade anyone from pursuing the arts.

In college, I experienced what I would later learn in my life as my second major depressive episode. The one I had in high school, ever the pragmatic, I chalked up to hormonal teen changes. And sure, that contributed to it, but when you’re 19 and you understand suicide so well, that, in fact, you’re surprised more people aren’t killing themselves, you figure, “oh I think my brain might be a little whack.” Suddenly, my plan A was “I’m just going to kill myself… I won’t be a burden on my family and society.” It’s a shitty plan. So maybe there was a plan B. Writers are known for being lonely and depressed addicts. I figured if I had all the worst qualities of great writers, why not try to hone their better qualities?

Writing, even as child, was my favorite form of expression and communication. Additionally, writing stories was like a playground of imagination. Teachers praised my writing from a young age, and that continued into college where I was a star student. Writing wasn’t just something I did, but a part of who I was (am).

Here’s the first tip to not make it in show business— don’t have any relatives or close relationships with people in Hollywood. Now, Hollywood has long been mocked for its nepotism. And while this does bother me, I also defended nepotism in Hollywood in this here blog. But make no mistake. If you have a bloodline to the professional art world, you have a clear advantage. I don’t forsake anyone for taking advantage of it.

There are plenty of artists in my family, from musicians to painters and some seriously funny people. But my parents, both one of six, both come from poor families. The artistic types mostly went into teaching. Practical and stable. No, I am not knocking it, to be clear. If I thought I’d be happy as a teacher, I would have become a teacher. In college, I switched my major from journalism (what I considered the practical writing route, though, AI is destroying that realm as much as the creative side, so I don’t regret my decision) to screenwriting. I was and am, obsessed with comedy, sitcoms and late night in particular. That is my dream job.

That’s how I started doing stand up. I loved stand up comedy, but never envisioned myself as one, as I’m an introvert, and I never really wanted to be famous. Growing up on Long Island, and going to college in the city, I knew I had the mecca of stand up comedy, New York City, at my door step. And so I started stand up.

Stand up is it’s own drug, and I quickly fell in love. I worked really hard. For years, I went to open mics every night trying new jokes I’d written. My writing was better than my delivery, and bombing on stage over and over is part of the horrifying process of becoming a good comic. Comedians are these misfits of society, tragically filled with anguish but able to contort it into jokes. These weirdos were my people.

I never had any delusions I’d be a stadium selling comedian. Truly, I just wanted to be really good at the craft, get respect from comics, and make some money, and land a writing gig or sell my own screenplay. I was playing to the comedians in the back of the club. Colin Quinn, a friend and mentor, told me that’s the biggest career mistake I made.

A ‘comic’s comic’ is usually a comedian that comedians love, but is not well known. These are my favorite comics. And you’ve probably haven’t heard of them. I subscribed to the belief that I had some innate talent (it is true, some people have it, most don’t, with any art) and if I kept my head down and worked really hard, I would succeed in some capacity. I deplored people who were clear ladder climbers, who only friended people who could advance their careers. Yes, I wanted to be friends with Colin, or Jim Norton, Nick Griffin, and many others, who are my friends, but I didn’t want to be their friends for phony reasons (those guys and many others have hooked me up with gigs and helped me out many times). My focus on genuine relationships versus kissing ass to certain club owners, bookers, comics, industry darlings is somewhat why I don’t work certain places or wasn’t accepted into certain circles. The perpetual networking comedian did better than me.

In a way, I became what I loved— a comic’s comic. A comedian respected by peers who is out of work.

When I started comedy, I was young. I’m not a feminine type. I’ve always been an athletic tomboy, but I knew I was cute and looked young for my age and that was an advantage in comedy. However, I did not want to use sexuality to advance my career. And I don’t mean literally sleeping with people (though if I did more of that I probably would also have more of a career!). I was writing screenplays and I really wanted to be respected for my mind, not liked for my boobs. What a career mistake. Especially with the boom of social media. I should have been posting thirst traps all throughout my 20s, building a following. It’s cliche, but sex sells. The most famous/popular female comics talk A LOT about sex. Which I think is fine, by the way. There are plenty of female comics that aren’t “sex” comics, but they’re not as famous (Maria Bamford, Carmen Lynch, Kathleen Madigan). This is not at the fault of the comedians, but the audience. The masses love smut. Sex sells. Intellect leaves you rambling to a few people who think you’re brilliant.

When I say “my generation of comedians,” I don’t mean my age, but rather when I came up in comedy (which includes comedians of all ages). Though it was always a long shot, if you were talented, hardworking and not completely self destructive, you probably could have a career as a working comic. You did open mics, got into clubs, emceed, featured, and worked your way to headliner. Social media changed that. Because suddenly, the comics who were working on their craft were losing gigs to internet sensations. Some “tiktok” stars are very funny and hard working. But a lot, if not most of them, got lucky with quantity over quality, and they were selling tickets so they started replacing working comedians. And that’s just business. I don’t fault the clubs for booking them. I don’t fault the social media sensations for doing it. That’s the business. But I didn’t want to be a social media influencer. I wanted to be a writer and a comedian. In today’s world, no one cares about your jokes or your scripts if you don’t have the social media following.

In 2024, I lost my full time radio writing job to AI. While it was a cushy job, where I worked remote and made my own hours, it paid poorly and I always saw it as a transient job to something better. Though I had hoped I could hold onto it until I found that something better. Radio, even more than television, is a dying industry folding in on itself in the world of streaming. I knew the company was in trouble (sometimes it took them three months to pay me. Yes. Three. Fucking. Months.). It was only a matter of time.

I was freelancing for Gutfeld! on Fox as a joke writer. And here’s the part where I tell you why being talent really sucks. Because companies take advantage of you. Networks take advantage. All politics aside (I am a libertarian, after all), Fox has a reputation for hiring freelancers at low rates instead of employing them full time. They are anti union (which is fine), but as a result, writers over there are not making WGA wages that writers for other shows are. I am happy and grateful I got to work on Gutfeld!. I would do it again. There was a need for a right leaning political comedy late night, and Gutfeld! filled it. They had two full time joke writers and then a handful of freelance writers including myself. Despite their success to #1 ratings, they never promoted me, or (to my knowledge) anyone else to full time. Why pay someone full salary and benefits when you can extort writers? The warm up guy is not a comic, but very funny (I love him, actually), but just to give you an example of how cheap the network is— the warm up guy is also a producer, social media guy, editor and news writer. On any other late night show, the warm up comic alone probably makes more money than him, and he’s doing like five jobs. There is no writer’s room at Gutfeld!. Something I tried to implement. I thought it was best we work on jokes the first half of the day, and then sit around a table and try to improve each other’s jokes or tags. This was not welcomed advice, even though it’s what every comedy show has done, ever.

While I was technically writing for the #1 late night show on television, I was also working as an assistant for two different people/small businesses and babysitting and event bar-tending and doing stand up and selling pictures of my feet. So pardon me, if I’m a little sour about the situation. Writing for late night is one of the hardest jobs you can get. It’s extremely coveted. And yet, I was basically doing jobs I did as a teenager and twinkling my toes to get by while simultaneously having what is considered one of the most prestigious jobs in comedy.

Because Fox is right wing, and even though I’m more centrist than many of Fox pundits views, the liberals in Hollywood are so single minded about their party, that because I worked for a right wing place, I did not get any rewards. By that I mean, had I been a writer for any other late night, city clubs would have used me more. That credit SHOULD help me get other writing jobs or carry some weight pitching my own work. Instead, it’s like a black mark on my resume. Turns out, having an independent mind in comedy makes you a pariah. There are a lot of closeted republicans in show business. And I think that that’s a shame. Regardless of what you think of republicans or Trump, for divisive political views to be affecting peoples careers is insane and also not good. The left is all for diversity except when it comes to thought. So, I guess, you are better off drinking the blue kool aid if you want a career in Hollywood.

If you are unfamiliar with my stand up, I’m not a political comedian at all. I much prefer comedy or late night shows like Conan O’Brien who mocked everything and maybe leaned one way but never pandered. I consider The Daily Show and Gutfeld! exceptions, because they are specifically political comedy shows, but other late night hosts (*ahem,* Colbert) are sinking their ships for being partisan over funny. We, the people, are really sick of people lecturing us on how to think and live our lives. Entertain us.

My writing manager doesn’t sugar coat anything for me when it comes to jobs or how people will react to my work. I think that’s a good thing, even though I do somewhat live in terror of her feedback. To be fair, she is a really sweet woman, and my fear of her is my own insecurities because I’ve never sold a script, so I’m perpetually convinced she’s going to let me go, and though I’d be sad if it happened, I’d understand. She is running a business and has children. I can’t be her pro bono case forever.

David Bowie said that you can’t make art when thinking about money. But it is really hard not to think about money when you’re broke, have no savings or retirement plan. If you’re going to be an artist, you are going to face so much rejection. When doubt claws its way into your brain, you become crippled by your own demons. Creative juices become idle. It’s no wonder so many artists just lose their minds. We are dead if we’re not creating. You either understand it, or you don’t.

What’s next for me? I really, really, really don’t know. Most days I wake up I have to brush off suicidal thoughts and then I usually fantasize about fleeing to Hawaii, doing whatever, writing novels for no one and hopefully falling in love with someone besides the ocean. While this a downtrodden piece, I really do not regret my time as a comedian. I really did go in with two feet. It’s given me experiences and friendships I only ever dreamed of. It’s a crazy life, but I have had many good days and nights, opening for my heroes, writing on a hit TV show, making theaters of people laugh. It’s a lot of highs and lows. You really do only have one life. Thank god the dreamers just go for it. What would life be without stories and music?

Go out there and do what you want to do. But, I guess, be a social media whore. Because that’s what it’s all about these days.