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Introduction

Somebody Laughed

Humor is an affirmation of dignity, a declarationof man's superiority to all that befalls him.

— Romain Gary

There was a moment in your life when you acknowledged to yourself that you were funny. Maybe you were trying to be funny. Maybe you weren't. Maybe it just slipped out.

But somebody laughed.

Or giggled.

Perhaps someone just smiled.

It might have happened when you were in second grade or freshman year in high school, or when you were a senior in college. You did or said something that got a rise out of your teacher and snickers from your classmates.

Or it could have happened when you were out of school and into a career when you got that first reaction from a coworker at the photocopy machine.

Maybe your boss laughed at something you blurted out at a meeting. Maybe a group of people laughed at what you said while you were in an elevator. Or you realized that a thought you had or a remark that slipped out was incredibly witty or clever or, well, funny.

Perhaps you had a knack for making cute, endearing remarks that made your relatives laugh at family gatherings.

You liked the feeling. Maybe you even loved it. But one thing for sure: You knew deep down that you needed to hear that laughter. So you tried to get your laughs wherever you could. Depending upon how shy you were, maybe you limited it to your siblings or parents. You'd do goofy stuff or say nutty things and get your laugh fix from your family.

Once you had them in the palm of your hand, you may have decided to test the waters outside the safety of your home. So there was school or the sports teams you played on or the clubs you joined. The people here were a tougher audience. Maybe the silly things you did at home were too easy. You had to be more creative. So you'd take a shot. Sometimes you'd get the laugh. Other times you'd crash and burn.

Crashing and burning was probably more the norm. But on the days when you got the laugh, it made the failures worthwhile. Getting the laughs did something to you. Maybe it built up your confidence. Made you feel cool. Hip.

Perhaps your sense of humor got you into a more high-profile crowd. If you're a guy, maybe it got you a cuter girl. If you're a girl, maybe it got you a better-looking guy. But you were too young to be thinking about what to do with this talent you had to make people laugh. Maybe you were too young to even realize it was a talent.

All you knew was that you liked making people laugh and you got a lot of satisfaction from doing it.

Maybe it was enough just to make your friends and family laugh. Maybe people liked being around you because they knew you were the funny guy or the funny girl.

Or maybe you didn't do anything. You just kept saying funny things and getting laughs. You'd reached the point where you knew you were funny. It was expected of you and you embraced that feeling, whether at work, school or, for that matter, anywhere.

Then one day it hit you. You were watching a lousy sitcom or a mediocre sketch on Saturday Night Live or you had just laid out twenty bucks at your local cineplex for a comedy with hardly any laughs. Then, as if possessed by the ghost of Groucho Marx, you thought or uttered seven words that would change your life:

“I could write funnier stuff than that.”

That's when you hit your first brick wall. Could you really write funnier stuff than that? You'd never tried to write anything funny before. Not for real. Maybe in high school or college you channeled your comedic ability into a satirical essay for an English class or you dashed out a humor column in the school paper. You might've written a couple of skits for a school talent show.

But you never, not ever, tried to write a sketch or an episode for your favorite sitcom or a Top 10 list a la David Letterman.

And you definitely never wrote a joke. The only jokes you told were the ones you heard from other people, just like everyone else. But to actually write an original joke? No way had you tried that. And to actually create a funny sketch that would be on a par with the best of SCTV, Mr.Show, or Kids in the Hall?

No way had you tried that.

And to write an episode of your favorite sitcom? You definitely never tried that.

And if you had the idea of being a stand-up comic, of creating a persona and of writing an “act” – No way in hell did you ever try that. (You weren't even sure what an “act” meant.)

Once you accepted the fact that you were going from being the funniest person in your crowd to being a comedy writer, you had one really large question: How do I go about doing it?

That's where I can help.

If you're interested in breaking into the world of sitcom writing, I'll take you step-by-step through the process of selecting the right show to write a script for, from vague idea to outline to first draft to second draft to polish. If sketch writing is your thing, I'll give you suggestions and tips on avoiding the pitfalls that even the best-written sketches fall victim to. If it's writing for late night television, writing screenplays, parody, short humor for magazines, or humorous fiction, I'll walk you through the steps.

Maybe you're not sure what you want to do, or perhaps you want to do everything. I'll help you learn how to think like a professional comedy writer.

First you'll have to decide what kind of comedy writer you are.

a quick lesson

There are three types of humor: verbal, visual, and physical.

Most visual and physical humor fits into the following categories: An object or person can become funny by being in an unusual place, behaving in an unusual way, or being the wrong size (Ratatouille; Shallow Hal; The Three Stooges, Shrek; Me, Myself and Irene; Harvey).

Verbal humor relies strictly on a person's wit (Bill Maher, Adam Carolla, Dennis Miller, and brilliantly written sitcoms like Seinfeld, Cheers, Arrested Development, The Office, Taxi, Frasier).

Television shows like The Simpsons and Family Guy rely on all three.

a quick exercise

Make a list of your favorite sitcoms and film comedies, and define their humor.