Michelle: Mark, what’s the first rule of starting a podcast? Mark: Probably something like, 'Don't name it My Brother, My Brother and Me.' It’s long, confusing, and sounds like a therapy session. Michelle: Exactly. And that's straight from the guys who did it. They basically wrote a book on how to not make their own mistakes. Mark: It’s the ultimate "do as I say, not as I did." I love that. Michelle: And that's the whole vibe of the book we're diving into today: Everybody Has a Podcast (Except You) by the McElroy brothers—Justin, Travis, and Griffin. Mark: The 'first family of podcasting,' as they're sometimes called. It's wild to think they started over a decade ago, basically building a comedy empire from their living rooms with a mix of wholesome and, let's say, colorful humor. Michelle: And that's the key. This isn't a theoretical guide from a business guru. It's a hilarious, practical manual from pioneers who learned everything by doing it, often the hard way. Their first, most surprising piece of advice, is all about meticulous planning. Mark: Wait, hold on. Planning? From the chaos agents? The guys who built a brand on delightful, rambling absurdity? That seems like the opposite of their entire public persona. Michelle: It’s the central paradox of their success. They argue that in today's world, with over 850,000 active podcasts, you can't just be charming and hit record anymore. You have to have a razor-sharp concept.

Michelle: The McElroys are adamant that you need a single, concise, interesting sentence to pitch your show. It’s your hook, your identity, your everything. And they live by this rule, even in their most outlandish projects. Mark: Okay, I need an example, because that sounds so corporate for them. Give me the most un-corporate, McElroy-est example of this in action. Michelle: Perfect. Let's talk about their podcast, The McElroy Brothers Will Be in Trolls 2. Mark: Oh, I remember this! This was a real thing. They just decided they wanted to be in a major animated movie and made a podcast about their quest to do it. Michelle: Exactly. Think about that pitch: "Three unqualified brothers with no Hollywood connections try to con their way into a major motion picture." It's brilliant. It’s specific, it has high stakes, it’s funny, and it has a clear finish line. You immediately know what you're getting, and you have to know if they succeed. Mark: And they did! They actually got voice roles in the movie. It’s insane. But that also sounds like a lightning-in-a-bottle gimmick. Is that really a model for a regular person trying to start a podcast about, say, gardening or history? Michelle: That’s the perfect question, because it gets to their deeper point. The Trolls 2 podcast worked not because it was a gimmick, but because it was a genuine, all-consuming obsession. They were truly, deeply invested in this absurd quest. And that’s their real secret sauce. Mark: Ah, so the concept has to be fueled by real passion. Michelle: Real, almost irrational passion. They have this fantastic line in the book: "Audiences are savvy and podcasting is an intimate medium; they’re gonna spot someone feigning enthusiasm for yaks a mile away and they’re going to turn the podcast off every single time." Mark: Feigning enthusiasm for yaks. I feel like I’ve listened to that podcast. It’s so true, you can hear when a host is just going through the motions or reading a script they don’t care about. Michelle: And that’s why their other shows work, too. Look at Sawbones: A Marital Tour of Misguided Medicine. Mark: Right, that’s Justin and his wife, Dr. Sydnee McElroy. She’s an actual doctor. Michelle: Yes, and the concept is "a doctor and her comedian husband explore all the weird, gross, and dumb ways we've tried to fix people throughout history." It combines her genuine expertise and obsession with medical history with his genuine talent for being a hilarious, curious layman. It’s a unique angle born from their real passions and relationship. It’s not a gimmick; it’s authentic. Mark: So the formula isn't 'find a gimmick.' It's 'find your obsession, then find the unique angle to talk about it.' That feels much more achievable than trying to get cast in a blockbuster movie. Michelle: Exactly. It’s about drilling down. Don’t just make a movie podcast. Make a podcast like The Worst Idea of All Time, where two friends watch and review the same terrible movie every week for a year. Mark: That is an incredible concept. The specificity is what makes it genius. You’re not just reviewing movies; you’re documenting a slow descent into madness. Michelle: Precisely. The McElroys argue that the more specific and weird your obsession, the more likely you are to find a dedicated audience who shares it. In a sea of generalists, be the passionate, obsessive specialist.

Mark: Okay, so you have your obsessive, unique idea. You've got your one-sentence pitch. But then you have to actually sit down and talk. That's the part where most people, myself included, would probably freeze up and feel like an idiot. Michelle: And that's where the McElroys say the real work begins, and it has almost nothing to do with your equipment. Mark: Come on, really? They spend a whole chapter on microphones. Michelle: They do, and it's useful. But their core message is that gear doesn't make a good podcast. To prove it, they tell the story of their own beginnings. For the first twenty or so episodes of My Brother, My Brother and Me, Griffin was using the plastic microphone that came with the video game Rock Band. Mark: No way. The little fake rockstar mic? Michelle: That’s the one. And Travis was using a fifteen-dollar headset from Walmart. They openly admit the audio quality was so bad they tell new listeners to just skip those early episodes entirely. Their point is, they built the foundation of their empire on terrible gear. What mattered was what they were doing with their voices and their energy. Mark: So what should you be focusing on, if not the gear? Michelle: Your vibe. Your persona. They make this great point that when you sit down to record, you have to "turn it up." You can't just have the same energy you have when you're chatting with a friend over coffee. You have to perform. Mark: That makes me a little uncomfortable. Does 'perform' mean being fake? Michelle: Not at all. It’s about being a more focused, energetic version of yourself. It’s about bringing an intention to the microphone: to fascinate, to thrill, to make someone laugh. It’s the difference between mumbling and projecting. To illustrate this, they bring up a surprisingly perfect example: Tay Zonday’s viral video, 'Chocolate Rain.' Mark: Wow, that's a deep cut. The guy who leans away from the mic to breathe? Michelle: They say, "Actually, you judgmental butthole, Tay Zonday was a fucking master of his craft." And they're right! He was controlling his proximity to the mic, eliminating plosives, managing his breath so you only heard his buttery-rich bass tones. He was performing. He had mic technique. That’s the craft. Mark: Okay, that's a brilliant way to put it. It’s not about the price of the mic; it’s about how you use it. But what about when you have a co-host? So much of their magic is the chemistry between the three of them. Michelle: This is where they bring in a concept from improv comedy: "Yes, Anding." Mark: I’ve heard the term, but for people who haven't done improv, what does that actually look like in a normal conversation? Michelle: It’s fundamentally about building, not blocking. If you say, "I saw a weird-looking dog today," a bad response would be, "No, you didn't," or "Okay, anyway..." A "Yes, And" response would be, "Oh yeah? What did it look like? I bet it was wearing a tiny hat." You accept the premise and add to it. You build the reality together. Mark: So it keeps the momentum going. You’re always moving the conversation forward. Michelle: Always. And it requires the most important skill of all: active listening. You can't "Yes, And" someone if you're just waiting for your turn to talk. You have to genuinely hear what they're saying and build on it. This is where the discipline comes back in. They talk about how hard it is to stay focused, especially when you’re recording on a computer. Mark: The infinite distraction engine. Michelle: Griffin tells a story about how, while he was literally writing the section of the book about staying focused, he got distracted by incoming emails and completely lost his train of thought. It’s a constant battle, but it’s a battle you have to win for the sake of the listener.

Mark: That feels like a good transition, because everything we've talked about—the planning, the performance—it's all in service of the listener. Michelle: It is. And the McElroys argue that this respect for the listener extends into the final stages of production, especially editing. They see editing not just as a technical task of cleaning up 'ums' and 'ahs,' but as a moral one. Mark: A moral task? That sounds a bit dramatic. Michelle: But think about their guiding question for cutting content: "Is this five minutes of material worth five minutes of someone's life?" If the answer is no, you cut it. You are honoring the listener's time, which is their most valuable, non-renewable resource. You’re fulfilling an unspoken contract with them. Mark: I love that framing. It’s not about making yourself sound smarter; it’s about not wasting someone’s life. That’s a high bar. Michelle: It is! And this philosophy of deep, genuine appreciation for the audience is what they believe truly builds a sustainable show. It's not about marketing hacks or climbing the charts. It's about connection. Justin tells this incredible story he learned from a Dale Carnegie audiobook about the great magician Howard Thurston. Mark: Okay, I’m listening. Michelle: Carnegie asked Thurston for the secret to his success. And Thurston said that before every single show, he would stand backstage and repeat to himself, "I love my audience. I love my audience." He said, "I am grateful because these people come to see me... I’m going to give them the very best I possibly can." He went on stage filled with gratitude, not ego. Mark: Wow. That’s powerful. It completely reframes the relationship. It’s not you, the great performer, bestowing your content upon the masses. It’s you, being grateful that anyone is choosing to spend their time with you. Michelle: And the McElroys put this into practice early on with a gimmick called "Listening Parties." If a fan could get four or more people together to listen to an episode, the brothers would record a personalized audio greeting for their party. Mark: That’s so much work! But what a brilliant way to build a real community. You’re not just a listener; you’re part of a group that the creators see and acknowledge. Michelle: It worked beautifully. They built a loyal fanbase because the appreciation was real and tangible. It wasn't just a sign-off line; it was an action. Mark: That’s a beautiful philosophy. But it's interesting, because the supplementary info on the book notes that they’ve also faced some public criticism for how they've managed their fan communities, especially on social media, as they've gotten bigger. Does the book grapple with the messy reality of that 'love' when a community gets huge and complicated? Michelle: That’s a very sharp and important point. The book offers solid advice on social media etiquette and managing fan spaces, and it even touches on the tricky power dynamics between creators and fans. However, it doesn't really dive into their own specific past controversies. It gives the "how-to" for building a positive community, but perhaps sidesteps the "what happens when it goes wrong" part, which is a complexity that comes with the kind of massive success they’ve earned. It’s a balanced guide, but it’s not a confessional.

Mark: So when you put it all together, it’s a fascinating paradox, isn't it? Podcasting is technically easy. Anyone with a phone can do it. But to do it well, to make something that doesn't suck, you need this intense discipline of planning, the vulnerability of a real performance, and this deep, almost sacred respect for the listener. Michelle: Exactly. It’s the difference between talking into a void and creating a real connection. The McElroys' entire message is that the technology is the easy part. The hard part is being interesting, being consistent, and being grateful. Mark: It’s a very hopeful message, in a way. It’s not about money or fame. It’s about craft and connection. Michelle: And their final piece of advice is the simplest and most powerful. After all the chapters on gear, editing, and monetization, they say the first thing you should do is just press record. Your first episode will probably be bad. Your tenth will be better. Your hundredth might be great. The only thing you need to do to make a podcast is to make a podcast. Mark: I love that. It cuts through all the anxiety and perfectionism. Just start. For our listeners, if you have a podcast or are thinking of starting one after hearing this, we'd love to hear your 'why.' What's the obsession you'd build a show around? Let us know. We’re always curious. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.