Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Ken Napzok. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Ken, thanks for joining us today. I’m sure there have been days where the challenges of being an artist or creative force you to think about what it would be like to just have a regular job. When’s the last time you felt that way? Did you have any insights from the experience?

I moved to Los Angeles in 1998. After leaving home and a burgeoning career in radio, I left to chase that Hollywood dream. We never really know what the dream IS — but we chase it. What are the definitions of success for a 22-year-old racing down the 101 freeway to begin his creative pursuits? Money? Two houses? Covers of Entertainment Weekly? (This was 1998 after all!) I arrived in August of that year and immediately began to conquer it all.

25 years later I’m still waiting for my kingdom.

Am I happy as an artist or creative? Yes. Simply because I have to be. There is no other way for me. Like anyone pursuing a career in the arts, you get those jobs that keep you afloat. Day job. Survival job. A job job. Whatever you call it all sounds like a personal justification for your own doubt. There is no shame in these jobs, of course. There shouldn’t be. This is the system we have. But along the way — as those creative pursuits take WAY longer to pan out if they do at all — those jobs that give you money but take up your creative energy can begin to dig into your soul. You start to wonder if this is it. And not only that — but is this SUPPOSED to be it.

I’ve seen many people in this city find themselves in those other jobs and pursuits that don’t have the inherent glamour or prestige of the arts. There are no magazine covers in them, but, yet, and always with a bit of surprise, those people realize that the definition of success they had at the start is not what they need now. It’s a wonderful thing to watch. It’s a quiet kind of happiness.

Yet when it happens — and it happens often — there is that little voice in the back of your head wondering if the next stop is yours. Maybe you could find happiness in what you once viewed as mundane or, more dramatically, a failure. Maybe it’s time for you to give it all up? What “it” is.

I spent 17 years in one of these day jobs. I got promotions during the day and worked on my career at night. Each year was a surreal ticking of the clock. A taunting turning of the calendar page. How could this chance to create and entertain professionally have escaped me for so long and was that the cosmic sign to stop? And in 2015 I was about to. I think I was coming to terms with a life less ordinary.

And then it changed. It seemed as though the moment I let go of it all in my heart — life found a way. I got a full-time digital media job. (A career that didn’t even EXIST when I had first begun chasing the carrot forever dangling before me.) I submitted my resignation and took that leap of faith.

And… you know what… it hasn’t always been fun. Definitely had its ups and downs. I’ve lost more jobs than I’ve gained. I live with financial stress and existential dread. And, yeah, some days I look at the lives and careers of those I know who pulled off the artist highway and I think — they had it right. And, well, they do…. for them.

But this is me. And no matter what hammer of doom hangs over me. No matter what doubt is present. No matter how the struggle continues. I always have one moment in each day where I think — Yes. This is right. This was the way for me. This makes me happy.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

Art is communication. It’s how we see the world and what we want to say about it.

I know that now.

It only took me 30 years of creating and selling my artful wares to understand that, and more importantly, what I want to say.

I am a stand-up comedian. A podcast with an old-school broadcaster mentality. I’ve written a book (2019’s Why We Love Star Wars). And I’ve spent ten years writing, producing, and hosting in the digital media world with a focus on pop culture and entertainment.

I started my career at 18. Right after high school I started hosting a live TV show and began my radio career. Yet when I started I just viewed it all as a generic pursuit of entertaining. I wanted to make people laugh. Or share a cool song they would love. I moved to LA to pursue sketch comedy and writing and the thought behind everything I did or said was surface level. I’m just making jokes. Laugh or don’t, but this is all I want to do.

But one of the reasons I found more success later in life is that I realized none of that was true. I didn’t just want to make people laugh. I didn’t just want to say some words in a funny way. I was looking at the world and lacking the ability to just share my thoughts on it with the clerk at the bank or my friend at a restaurant — I had to tell everyone. Not out of ego, mind you. But this was the only way this quiet kid in the back of the classroom knew how to talk to people. Healthy? Noooo… of course not. There is always a crack in the foundations of the artists dancing before you.

I try to make everything I do now matter on some level. Every podcast, every deep dive into Star Wars, every stand-up set, and every answer to life’s questions comes with the personal hope that I’m not just tossing words out into the abyss for a laugh. But that I’m bringing something of value to those invested in what I’m doing. I deal in the currency of emotions and I do it with the perspectives and experiences of everyone else in mind.

A lot of performers and podcasters and anyone with a platform carry around the mentality that the world is wrong and they’re here to point that out to you — and that used to be where I lived. I’m just making jokes because isn’t this all stupid? But as I started paying attention to the world more in terms of social issues, political power struggles, and the lives and pains of everyone else, my focus started to shift. It wasn’t the world that was wrong… I was starting to feel I was wrong and maybe the world had the right idea. I try to drive humor from that perspective and when I look out at the world at large — that is what my art is communicating.

What I am most proud of now is when someone comes up to me and says, “Thank you for what you said.”

Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?

I think the biggest struggle for those around me who are in that “non-creative” category is that my journey never ends. There is no finish line. There is not one job or one accomplishment that takes you into the promised land. And I’m not talking about big paydays, awards, or some inconceivable level of fame. I’m sure those things change your journey, but one thing remains — the next project, the next job, the next artistic breakthrough is always what is on your mind. And with that comes a lot of struggles. Most appear on the surface — credit card debt mounting up as you try to survive, emotional despair when nothing seems to be working, or just the simple feeling that you have to keep fighting on.

They don’t understand that. And, you know, what maybe we creatives don’t understand that either.

When I finally had that full-time creative gig that wasn’t the emotional prison of my old day job I was really happy…. for about six days. Then in the middle of my second week, I was driving home and this feeling hit me.

“This ain’t it.”

And it wasn’t that. That job felt like the end of a long journey to find my artistic self. But it was just the beginning. What was next was more important. And what was after THAT — even more so.

The journey has no finish line. It just has tomorrow.

How can we best help foster a strong, supportive environment for artists and creatives?

As someone who offers subscriptions, exclusive content, Patreon pages, and so many of the direct-to-consumer ways of supporting my art, I think that one small thing that society — or those small groups of fans that follow individual artists — can do to support is to just tell people. Tell your friends about the comic you like. Share that link to the podcast you enjoyed. Spread the word, share the joy.

We are blessed with many ways to tell the world about what we do. Despite any misgivings one might have about social media — and there are many to have — it’s given me and countless others careers. The walls around the business got pulled down. We all have a better chance of reaching a level of success. And I do mean money — a way to live from the art you create.

But with that wide-open opportunity comes new walls. The tech walls. The algorithm. Search engine optimization. Hashtags, keywords, and the never-ending struggle to let people know you’re there. Or, in many cases, still there.

I was on a popular YouTube show that covered Star Wars, but was eventually let go by that company. Now, the entire time I had my own podcast, ForceCenter, co-created and hosted with two other wonderful folks. For over nine years I have been discussing Star Wars there. But, still, even to this day, someone will find me on social media or sometimes in real life, and they all ask the same thing, “Hey, are you ever going to talk about Star Wars again? I miss you on that old show.”

By simply getting out of the algorithm of their lives — I vanished from their eyes.

So, want to help a creative? Tell the world about them.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.kennapzok.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kennapzok/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kennapzokpage
• Twitter: https://twitter.com/KenNapzok
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCG1Tfl1xin_JuCLS7cLNOIQ

Image Credits
Image one (La Jolla Comedy Store) – Shaun Baker Image three (New York Comedy Club) – Sam Cashell