Maria Bamford is my absolute favorite comedian, and she’s probably yours too—you just might not know it. Even if you’ve somehow not caught her stand-up sets on her numerous globe-hopping tours, or on late-night talk shows like Conan, Jimmy Kimmel Live! or The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, and even if you haven’t listened to her albums—How to Win!, Unwanted Thoughts Syndrome, Ask Me About My New God, Weakness Is the Brand, etc.—or caught her on TV shows like Arrested Development, Portlandia, or Lady Dynamite, you’ve definitely heard her voice on a slew—a slew!—of popular cartoons, like Bob’s Burgers, BoJack Horseman, Adventure Time, Big Mouth, and The Legend of Korra, among many, many others.
A few years ago, Simon & Schuster decided they wanted in on the action. They offered Bamford a respectable wad of cash to write her memoir, Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult: A Memoir of Mental Illness and the Quest to Belong Anywhere (Gallery Books, 2023), and the deal has more than paid off. Just two weeks after her book debuted, it hit the New York Times bestseller list, and, as of the release of this interview, the paperback edition is scheduled to come out in September. Late this spring, Bamford and her husband, Scott Marvel Cassidy, are also coming out with their graphic narrative, called Hogbook & Lazer Eyes (Fantagraphics, 2024). It details the beginnings of their relationship, as told through the eyes of their elderly dogs.
Back in March, Bamford and I had the chance to talk over Zoom about her writing—and getting paid for it.
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The Rumpus: I wanted to start off on a weird two-parter, first, with a question you’ve been asked lots and lots before: What are some of the ways that your brain recognizes a particular concept as the basis for a bit? For example, when your mom told you that you look mentally ill when you don’t wear makeup, or when your husband, Scott, offered to shave your beard if you grew one [since you couldn’t have razors] in the mental hospital. When does it click? And how do bits develop from certain concepts or things that are said to you?
Maria Bamford: It’s very arbitrary. With those bits, I was very touched by what Scott said, and then, with my mom, I think I was at first just mad at her [for] telling me to put on makeup. Those were very emotional responses. Right now, I’m working on a new hour, and some of the things that are interesting to me are financial issues. Somehow, I’ve got a bee in my bonnet about open-book accounting. I’m fascinated about the emotions surrounding finances, partly because the billionaires are getting richer while the poor are getting poorer, etcetera, etcetera.
But mostly, I’ll latch onto something if it makes me laugh. I don’t know if you ever listen to [famed Belgian psychotherapist] Esther Perel, but [Bamford drops into a Belgian accent] she talks to many, many people, and today she’ll be talking to a polyamorous lad. “Each person, you know, decides who they want to be in a relationship, but before I get into it, I want to tell you about a new mattress that lets you set your own softness or firmness levels.” Or something like: “You know, John’s suicide is a topic we’ll be covering today, but first I have to tell you how Fresh Direct has been such a wonderful gift for myself and my husband.” [Bamford returns to her normal voice] She’s a therapist, but she’s a therapist on these podcasts and shows where they have to shill products, and it seems like it’s in such poor taste. But that’s so funny to me.
I’m sure in all artforms there are types that are considered “low” and which get looked down on, but in comedy, I just love a noise, a facial expression, a mugging, a splaying out of bizarre, human forms in any ways that can be marketable. I’m all for that.
Rumpus: I love it. Now here’s the follow-up: While you were writing the book, what did you want to address that you normally wouldn’t be able to bring up in your stand-up albums and specials?
Bamford: The nice thing about a book is that you can stretch out and get into something, whereas it wouldn’t really hold people’s attention in a set, or I might not even have the passion to get into it that deeply. For example, talking about Suzuki training for violin? I don’t think I’d be interested in talking about that onstage. That was a very limited, very privileged experience to get violin training from the age of three to nineteen, and somehow, that doesn’t interest me as much onstage. That was much easier to write about in the book, though.
You could write about this weird thing, and people who like to read will be down to find out about this different world. It’s a very different situation in a nightclub or a theater, where you want to be relatable but still have subject matter that’s attractive. You don’t want to be complaining about the very particular “I got violin lessons, and my parents loved me for 20 years.”
Rumpus: [imitating a stand-up audience] Booooooo!
Bamford: Boooooo!
Rumpus: In that same chapter on Suzuki [method for] violin, you mention that you’re not really interested in criticism or negative feedback and like to “go where the love is, [and] where everyone buys a ticket.” How did this fit into your revisions of the memoir? Because I know that Simon & Schuster reached out to you directly, correct?
Bamford: Yes, and that was very much going where the love is. They put $50,000 on the table and asked, “Could you start?” And that was very friendly, very kind. So I hired an editor, Daniel Smith, who wrote a memoir, Monkey Mind, which I really adore. And I worked with him for about a year because I’d never written a book before, and that was really helpful just to have someone cheering me on, saying things like, “Write more about this!” And he was great because he was a third party, not Simon & Schuster itself.
And then I got Ashley Ray, who helped me on an audiobook I did [You Are (A Comedy) Special, 2020], and she’s a comic and a writer. Again, I tried to bring the book only to people who were already sold on what I do. I know this probably makes me a weaker comedian, but oh, well.
Rumpus: In that same chapter, you also mention how you track down a receptive audience first. Like with your stand-up, you practice in parking lots or one-on-one, over Zoom sessions. You write that you think this practice makes you a weaker comedian, but, honestly, I think it would give you a chance to hone the best bits into something better. I really like that concept.
Bamford: It’s hard to say. There’s something beautiful about seeing comics who can work in any room or who can go up and handle any situation, but I know I’m not that comedian. If I go up in a room in New York or Boston, where people are just coming out to see comedy, and if I start to lose people? Oh, man. Just watching the slow melting of faces? I admire people who can get past that. The only way I can continue doing stand-up, though, is in places where I don’t have to get any feedback except, “Great job!” or, “Hey, I didn’t totally understand that part. What did you mean by that?” That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Because I’m the one who has to do it all the time, so what the fuck do I care if someone else doesn’t think it’s funny?
Rumpus: One of my absolute favorite bits of yours from the last few years is your fart gag, where you keep making noises of flatulence onstage, and it goes on and on and on. I love that so much, and I loved seeing how much you enjoyed doing the bit. I think you were giggling while it was happening.
Bamford: “Fart” really divides a room, though. My husband’s dad, who’s no longer with us, had the family listen to a Bill Cosby album once, and when a fart joke came on, he took the record off and broke it in half—because of a fart joke. He was so offended!
Some people don’t think it’s real comedy, but just look at how many fart machines are being sold online. There are thousands and thousands of them, so somebody must think they’re funny.
Rumpus: I also wanted to ask a bit about what got you and your husband, the artist Scott Marvel Cassidy, started on Hogbook & Lazer Eyes. Did Fantagraphics reach out to you both, similar to how Simon & Schuster wanted you to write a memoir, or did you work on it first and then seek out a publisher?
Bamford: My husband had a bee in his bonnet, and he said he wanted to make a comic about our love story, as told by our dogs. So he did that, and then he submitted the work to Fantagraphics. We were already selling versions of it after my shows, and they were like, “What?” So they gave us a book deal, and then Scott illustrated a whole other book, so now it’s a hardcover, bound book, and it’s more of an extended story. I did some writing on it but not much. He is the lynchpin to it.
Rumpus: Throughout the comic, it feels like your dogs—Bert, Betty, Blueberry, and Arnold—serve as a Greek chorus that focus on nap- and food-related adventures. What was the importance of having them serve as your narrators? What itch did it scratch that wouldn’t be reached otherwise?
Bamford: I think it was told like that because Scott has the deepest connection to our dogs. I had two old dogs when we first met—Blueberry and Bert—and Scott immediately connected with them. We always get older dogs now that we’re together. In our ten-year marriage, we’ve had seven dogs: Blueberry, Bert, Betty, Arnold, Jackie, and now Max and Muffin.
When we wake up in the morning, the first conversation that he has is with the dogs. He’ll ask about all the things they’re into that day. He has songs he sings to them. And I don’t know if I’ve ever been that close with dogs as he is with our dogs. And every dog of ours has been a magical, new relationship for him. It’s really wonderful, and I think that’s why it’s told by our dogs.
Rumpus: That is so sweet. Okay, I’m going to ask a really random question here: is [couples therapist] Sheryl Hirsham a real person?
Bamford: Yes! Yes, she is, and her real name is Carol Grisham. She’s moved to Hawai‘i, but we can still see her on Telehealth. She is awesome.
Rumpus: For real people like your couples therapist, who become caricatures in your work, can you walk me through what it’s like when you let them know you’re going to include them as part of your material? And this could also include your family or Scott. Is it more of a beg-for-forgiveness or an ask-for-permission situation?
Bamford: I’ve done both, but everyone is so different. Our therapist didn’t care at all. She was just like, “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She was delighted. And then my parents were also pretty much okay with most of it. My mom felt hurt by a few things. Like, I remember how she would buy clothes from a certain designer called Eileen Fisher, which I think makes women look like they’re going to war. The clothes always have these deep pockets, like they can hold lots of ammunition, and I had a joke about that, but she didn’t like it.
But with Sarah, I’m her younger sister, so I’ve always held the thought that I’m the underdog. Over the years, though, she’s asked me many times to stop doing certain material about her, to stop writing about her. And I somehow couldn’t take that in. I kept thinking, “But you’ve already won, and I have to deal with that.” We’ve had many, many discussions, and she’s basically said, “Please, please, please, please, please, please don’t talk about me anymore.” It’s so sad that I’ve come to this so late in the game, but I’m now stopping.
I’ve had people do impressions of me, and even though they might have done this out of love, it still feels hurtful. I keep thinking, “I know I mumble! I know I close my eyes when I’m talking!” But it’s been a process, and it’s been uncomfortable, and sometimes I’ve been the hero, and sometimes I’ve been the antagonist.
Rumpus: What’s that Anne Lamott quote about memoirs? “If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better,” I think? Maybe that could also apply to memoirists themselves? Anyway, I was going to ask: who were some of the authors or books you had to read in order to put the memoir together?
Bamford: I mean, I already love memoirs and autobiographies, so I don’t think I read anyone directly as a format. I don’t think I’m that good a writer. There are the memoirs that I love, like Lit by Mary Karr, The Center Cannot Hold by Elyn R. Saks, or anything by Kay Redfield Jamison, who’s a very well-known mental health memoirist—those are each just insanely beautiful. But I did, of course, read Memoir Writing for Dummies, and that was perfectly helpful. It was great having an idea as to the overall format and where the suggestions given were mostly along the lines of “Just do it! Do the thing!”
I remember I took some creative writing class in college, and anytime there was any kind of critique, I kept thinking, “Wait, what? What are you talking about? This is gold! This is off the cuff!” Which is why I think I’ve done well in stand-up—there’s no feedback. You just get to go right home after your set.
Rumpus: I keep hearing you dismiss yourself as a writer, but your writing in your stand-up and your specials and your memoir is outstanding! Can I just say how much I absolutely giggle while I’m reading and listening to your work?
Bamford: No, no, I’m proud. I’m proud. I’m proud. I’m proud. I’m doing a good job.
Rumpus: I always ask this near the end of interviews, but was there anything about the memoir or the graphic narrative that you were hoping I would ask about but didn’t?
Bamford: Oh, you know what? No one’s asked me if I’ve gotten the final payment for the book.
Rumpus: Wait, wait, Maria, have you not been paid the final installment for your book, months after it’s become a New York Times bestseller?
Bamford: I have not. You do not get the final payment until it comes out in paperback, my friend. And you don’t find out if that’s going to happen or not until late in the schedule. I did get a bump because there were plenty of sales, but the final payment hasn’t come yet, and it’s been six years since I started this thing. So, yeah, just so you know. I remember there was this section in one of John Updike’s books where his character [Henry Bech] was saying to his editor, “Could you send me, like, just a thousand more dollars? Because I’m almost done with the book, but—.” But, yeah, that’s my favorite part about biographies and autobiographies: when the authors get paid.
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Author photograph courtesy of Maria Bamford
