Meet Maddie Ogden

Today we’d like to introduce you to Maddie Ogden.

Hi Maddie, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
I grew up in a small, rural, and primarily Mormon town where men praised little girls for the “beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” To my teachers’ disdain, I was far from a quiet spirit. I loved making others laugh, which often sentenced me to middle-school-solitary-confinement for being “disruptive.” I’d sit in solitude and listen to my male classmates be awarded the title “class clown” for stealing my jokes. But, as I sat alone, I would always rejoice at the memory of seeing the glimmer of curiosity and wonder that danced in my female classmates’ eyes upon observing my rebellion. Consequently, a young comedienne was born.

As I grew older and more interested in boys, I felt pressure to fit the cookie-cutter mold that men in my town dubbed “the ideal woman”; demure, obedient, and proficient in non-threatening hobbies such as the violin. Unfortunately, I had no patience for violin or insecure men, so lying quietly on top of a damsel-shaped cookie was never an option. However, after I was beaten and raped in the woods by a boy who whispered, “Maybe this will teach you to shut up,” I wished I had just lied on the damn cookie. The sense of shame and self-doubt I developed suffocated me. Thankfully, I discovered comedy as a vessel to help me process my trauma. By escaping to my joke journal of silly stories, I was able to explore my trauma through a silly and disarming lens that made it feel less scary. What started as a coping mechanism turned into an all-consuming passion which propelled me to leave my small town and move to LA to study comedy writing under the iconic Anne Beatts.

Anne, one of the original SNL writers, used to ferociously sip her Tejava tea while teaching me about joke structure, character development, and how to succeed in the comedy industry as a woman. My favorite piece of advice that she gifted me was, “You can’t sleep your way to the top; you can sleep your way to the middle, but then you have to do the rest of the work yourself.” I cherished every moment Anne would tear through my feeble jokes, then recount her years of tearing through men who told her “chicks just aren’t funny.”

I’m not proud to say that after leaving Anne’s maternal wing of tough love, I gave up. Imposter syndrome mixed with Monsieur Pandemíc hit me, and I let Anne down. Two years passed, and I received a call from Anne’s daughter Jaylene informing me through tears that Anne had unexpectedly passed away. Everything came into razor-sharp focus as I experienced that cliche human moment of realizing life is short and for pursuing what you love. As a result, I decided to return to comedy, but as anyone in comedy can attest, that is much easier said than done. I remember driving by Anne’s old house feeling hopelessly lost, bursting into tears, then almost instantaneously receiving a text from an old college friend (shoutout to Hailey Burns), offering me a position to work for one of my all-time favorite comedians, Conan O’Brien. When I hopped on my Zoom interview, I was shocked to discover that the woman interviewing me (shoutout to the illustrious Paula Davis) not only knew Anne Beatts but looked up to her as a mentor the same way I did. Later that night, Paula informed me I got the gig, and I went to work for Conan the next day. I’m not very spiritual, but it’s difficult to deny that Anne has continued looking out for me beyond her time on earth (sometimes I can still feel her scoffing at my joke structure too).

A year and a half later, I am excited to report I was recently promoted to Conan’s Talent Coordinator, finished a comedy pilot Anne had helped me workshop, just got booked at The Comedy Store and The Hollywood Improv, and am looking forward to my weekend plans of helping Anne’s daughter Jaylene pick out a kitten. I still have a very long road ahead of me as far as my comedy journey goes, but I’m relieved to be behind the wheel again (with my favorite backstreet driver Anne). Who knows where I will end up, but I hope to follow in Anne’s footsteps and inspire other “disruptive” female comics along the way.

Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
There is no smooth road in comedy, and that’s the beauty of it. Comedy manages to exist as one of the most rewarding while simultaneously humiliating art forms in existence; it is impossible to succeed without consistently humiliating yourself. If you are sitting there thinking, “That’s insane; why would you do that” the answer is that I am insane. The comedians I have been lucky enough to befriend are genuinely some of the most brilliant, disciplined, and deranged people I have ever met. Comedy is brutal, and to truly commit to it, one has to be a bit of a masochist. I cannot emphasize enough that stand-up is cruel to everyone. However, being a comedian who identifies as a female (and also a small bear perpetually lost in a grocery store) adds challenges that male comedians do not experience.

In the past week alone, I’ve had a male comedian declare I was only getting booked so much because comedy producers are “horny,” a random man on the internet threaten to “hunt me at night” if I didn’t “stop trying to be funny,” and another male comic shout, “I wish your jokes were as good as your tits” (which, in his defense, I do have stunning tits, but I still didn’t appreciate the comment). In summation: it’s rough out there for a little gorl/bear. I am eternally grateful for Anne Beatts and the other powerful, funny women who fought misogyny in comedy before me. Unfortunately, the reality is that women doing silly little clown dances on stage can still make men very angry.

Something about a woman doing stand-up awakens even the deepest buried misogyny, hence all the horror stories we hear about female-comic-harassment. Every comic gets heckled and has moments where it feels like the audience is against them, but if a man tells a joke that doesn’t get a laugh, he has an “off night”; if a woman tells a joke that doesn’t get a laugh, she serves as proof that “chicks aren’t funny.” Bombing sucks for everyone; bombing sucks even more when your identity’s credibility is at stake.

Luckily, this comedy double-standard inspired my co-hosts (shoutout to Izzi Cavotta and Raye Schiller!!!) and me to create open mic spaces where people of all identities can come and freely humiliate themselves without being judged for anything besides joke structure. If you are reading this and thinking about trying stand-up (or are simply looking for a mic that doesn’t make you want to play “Mad World” on the drive back), come out to Badger and Jam on Tuesdays and The Schmoozy Boozy mic at The Belmont on Thursdays. We make masochism inclusive and fun!

Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
My name is Maddie Ogden, and I am a stand-up comedian, writer, open mic host, Talent Coordinator for Conan, and croc footwear enthusiast. In my comedy, I specialize in questioning gender and sexuality norms while raising the important questions in life, such as Do you think that the corn in a Chipotle burrito ever has survivors’ guilt? Or do you think The Muppets ever have HR meetings? I also utilize a skill set that I have been honing since I was three, which is using increasingly obnoxious voices to achieve outlandish impressions that make everyone around me uncomfortable (but like, in a cool, silly way).

I am proud of the silly little bits and impressions I create, but besides being mistaken for Maude Apatow on occasion (if you have ever seen me crying in a Taco Bell parking lot, no, you didn’t because that was Maude Apatow), I am most proud of my ability to bring kindness into comedy. I often find that in this industry, especially in Los Angeles, kindness is mistaken for weakness, and I wish I could scream from the rooftops that it is quite the contrary. It takes a lot of strength and willpower to be kind, especially in comedy. Being kind in comedy does not mean worrying about hurting feelings; it just means being funny enough to avoid being a complete dick all the time and supporting your fellow comics along the way. It’s not that hard, but you would be shocked at the number of people who struggle to grasp this concept.

Although it’s only fair to acknowledge that it’s much easier to avoid being a dick if one has already experienced kindness and support. Kindness is infectious and something that I want to spread further than mono at a high school theater competition (shoutout my first kiss). It makes the comedy scene a little less rough, and I wholeheartedly believe it inspires success. You can find the proof in my late mentor Anne Beatts and my boss Conan O’Brien.

Anne is one of the most iconic female writers in history and still found time to uplift aspiring comics around her until the day she died. Conan continues to do the same (evident from his slew of interns turned incredibly successful comedians); he is one of the kindest men I have ever met. I find it hard to believe that Anne and Conan’s kindness and success are coincidences. To quote Mr. Conan O’Brien himself, “If you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing things will happen.”

We love surprises, fun facts and unexpected stories. Is there something you can share that might surprise us?
I have really long toes.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @maddie_ogden_ @schmoozyboozyshow @badgerandjam
• Other: @schmoozyboozyshow

Image Credits
David Hopping @david_hopping Greg Feiner @greg.feiner