I had a bit of a revelation recently while working on my comedy writing. You see, I’ve been in this intense writing mode, and I realised something crucial: having a bunch of funny ideas isn’t enough. It’s like being able to play jazz chords all day but never having a finished song. I’ve got all these snippets and premises, but no actual jokes. It’s like trying to turn years of improvisation into a polished pop song—verse, chorus, bridge, the whole structure. Comedy writing is no different. It requires turning random funny thoughts into a cohesive act that has a flow and a theme, much like an album.
I’ve been attending open mics and comedy shows, and it’s fascinating to observe how different crowds react to the same jokes. One night, a joke about landlords might kill, but the next night, with a room full of UK tourists, it falls flat. It’s all about reading the room and knowing your audience. The edgy, shock-value jokes that some comedians rely on don’t always work. You might hear loud laughter, but if you look closely, it’s often just a few loud bros while the rest of the room is silent.
Being an opener is especially tough. You’re playing to someone else’s crowd, and you need to win them over quickly. I remember seeing Clem Snide open for Ben Folds. He started with an acapella song—just him and his voice. It was a bold move, and he won the crowd over. That kind of confidence and ability to read the room is crucial in comedy.
I’ve realised that my material needs to be more universal. People are tired of political humour and edgy jokes. They want something relatable. So, I’m focusing on more general themes like being a weird kid or family dynamics—things that most people can relate to. It’s not about dumbing down the material, but about finding that sweet spot where the majority of the room is on board with you.
I’ve also noticed that what works online doesn’t always translate to the stage. Twitter jokes, for example, don’t land because fewer people are on Twitter than you think. And the same goes for niche topics like tech or AI. You need to zoom out and find the universal truths that everyone can laugh at.
There’s a balance between taking comedy seriously and not overthinking it to the point of paralysis. It’s a craft that requires practice and situational awareness. You need to know when a joke is not landing and be ready to pivot. It’s about building a relationship with the audience, winning their trust, and then delivering the punchline.
I’m still learning and figuring it out. I’ve got a tentative act, but it needs polishing. I’m reading books, taking courses, and practising as much as I can. It’s like training for a marathon—every bit of preparation counts. And while I’m not there yet, I’m getting closer.
My goal is to become a solid opener or feature act, someone who can deliver consistently and win over any crowd. It’s a challenging journey, but one I’m committed to. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll be able to balance a quiet life with a successful comedy career. For now, it’s all about putting in the work and learning as much as I can.