Here’s how I approach sharing my humorous writing with the world, specifically through contests. It’s not just about getting people to chuckle, it’s about making judges downright guffaw enough to actually give me an award! Submitting to contests isn’t just about winning, although that’s pretty great. It’s about getting some validation, gaining exposure, and to be honest, proving to my cat that all those hours spent crafting the perfect pun weren’t completely wasted.
This is my detailed guide, my personal roadmap for navigating the tricky world of humor writing contests. I’m going to go beyond the obvious, sharing the strategies, the pitfalls, and all those crucial little details that really separate the contenders from the folks who just participate. Forget all that wishy-washy advice you’ve heard; get ready for my masterclass in turning your comedic genius into contest victories.
Finding the Right Humor Contest: My Strategy for Selection
Not all contests are created equal, especially when it comes to humor. A common mistake I see is people just sending their stuff to every single open call. That’s a waste of time and honestly, it often backfires. My first, and probably most important, step is to strategically select the contests I enter.
Pinpointing My Humor Niche: It’s More Than Just “Funny”
Humor is a huge spectrum. Am I a wizard with one-liners, a satirist poking fun at societal absurdities, a delightfully whimsical absurdist, or a storyteller with a knack for comical situations? Understanding my specific comedic voice is absolutely essential before I even start looking.
Here’s how I figure out my niche: I categorize my existing humorous pieces. Do they lean towards:
* Observational Humor: (like my bits about trying to navigate the supermarket checkout lines)
* Satire/Parody: (like that mock-press release I wrote for a fictional, completely inept government agency)
* Absurdist/Surreal: (remember that short story where a sock puppet gained sentience and ran for president? Yeah.)
* Dark Humor: (I’m talking jokes about morbid topics, handled with a delicate touch, of course)
* Slapstick/Physical Comedy: (this is less relevant for written work, but I consider if my writing can evoke that kind of imagery)
* Puns/Wordplay: (I love a good limerick, a clever riddle, or stand-up style one-liners)
Knowing my forte helps me find contests that are specifically looking for my brand of funny. A contest seeking “socially relevant satire” isn’t going to be impressed by my brilliant collection of dad jokes, no matter how amazing they are.
My Precision Targeting: Where Do Humor Contests Hide?
The internet is massive, but I’ve found specific hunting grounds that yield much better results. I usually bypass general writing contest aggregators at first; I focus on platforms that are all about humor.
Here are some places I look:
* Literary Magazines with Humor Sections: Many prominent literary journals occasionally run themed contests for humor. The New Yorker’s “Daily Shouts” column, while not a contest, shows they’re clearly interested in short, witty pieces. Publications like McSweeney’s Internet Tendency frequently have writing calls that are basically informal contests, and they often lead to publication.
* Specialized Humor Websites: I search for sites dedicated solely to comedic writing. They often have their own annual competitions or are excellent places to discover calls from other niche humor publications.
* Comedy Festivals (with writing components): Lots of comedy festivals (like some fringe festivals or even big stand-up events) include screenwriting, sketch writing, or even short story contests. While the performance aspect is key, the written word is almost always the foundation.
* Professional Humor Organizations: Groups like the Comedy Writers Association or similar collectives often announce or sponsor contests. Joining one can be a really good investment.
My insider search tip: I use really specific search terms: “humor writing contest,” “satire competition,” “comedy script contest,” “funny short story competition,” “[my city/state] humor writing festival.” I combine these with keywords like “annual,” “submissions open,” “deadline.”
Decoding the Rulebook: This Is Where Most People Mess Up
The rules aren’t just suggestions; they are the absolute commandments of contest submission. Overlooking even one tiny detail can lead to instant disqualification. I learned this the hard way, so now I’m super diligent.
This is my checklist for deciphering the rules:
* Eligibility: Am I a student, a professional, an amateur? Is there a geographic restriction?
* Genre/Category: Is it open to essays, short stories, poetry, satire, scripts, stand-up bits? I’m precise here. A humorous poem isn’t going to win a short story contest.
* Theme: Is there a specific humorous theme (e.g., “comedy of errors,” “absurdist modern life”)? If so, my piece must align.
* Word Count/Length: This is non-negotiable. Submitting 1,200 words to an 800-word maximum contest is a guaranteed rejection. I stick to the exact limits, often going slightly under to be safe.
* Formatting Requirements: Font, font size, line spacing, margins, header/footer information, title page – I meticulously apply every single instruction. Some contests require blind submissions (no name on the document), others want a separate cover sheet.
* Submission Method: Online portal, email, postal mail? I follow the method exactly.
* Entry Fee: Is there one? I budget accordingly. I also find out if it’s refundable or if there are fee waivers for certain groups.
* Deadlines: I note both the submission opening and closing dates. I never wait until the last minute; technical glitches happen.
* Rights/Publication: I need to understand what rights I grant if I win or am a finalist. Do they gain exclusive publication rights? Non-exclusive? Do I retain evergreen rights?
Here’s a scenario I think about: A contest asks for “humorous essays, 750-1000 words, double-spaced, Times New Roman 12pt, blind submission via Submittable, theme: the absurdities of daily commutes.” If I submit a 1,100-word, single-spaced satirical short story about a talking squirrel, with my name on the first page, and email it directly to the editor, I’d get instantly deleted, and rightfully so. Compliance isn’t optional for me.
Perfecting My Humorous Manuscript: It’s More Than Just Being Funny
The competition is tough. Even truly brilliant humor needs to be presented flawlessly. This section focuses on making my manuscript shine and easy to read.
The Power of the Opening Hook: Laughter From Line One
Contest judges read hundreds, sometimes thousands, of submissions. My opening is my make-or-break moment. I have mere seconds to grab their attention and deliver that first laugh or spark serious intrigue.
Here are the strategies I use:
* Immediate Anomaly/Absurdity: I start with something completely unexpected.
* Weak: “I had a strange day at the office yesterday.”
* Strong (what I’d write): “The first sign that my boss, Mildred, was having a breakdown wasn’t the spontaneous opera singing, but the moment she replaced all our office chairs with exercise balls shaped like disgruntled chimpanzees.” (This establishes character, absurdity, and stakes immediately).
* Witty Observation: A relatable, yet humorous truth.
* Weak: “Parents sometimes find parenting hard.”
* Strong (my version): “Parenting, I’ve discovered, is less about raising tiny humans and more about silently negotiating with pint-sized terrorists over the structural integrity of Lego castles and the appropriate quantity of glitter in the household.”
* Punchy One-Liner/Anecdote: If the format allows, a quick hit.
* “My dating life is less ‘rom-com’ and more ‘existential dread expressed through the medium of spilled coffee.'”
My self-correction tip: I read my opening aloud. Does it land? Do I genuinely smile, if not laugh? I ask a trusted, completely honest reader for their immediate reaction. If they don’t get it, or worse, are bored, I revise it.
Mastering the Art of Pacing and Delivery: Orchestrating the Laugh
Humor isn’t just about the joke; it’s about how the joke is presented. Pacing builds tension, surprises the reader, and really maximizes the comedic impact.
Here are my key techniques:
* Setup and Punchline: Even in prose, I think about this structure. I build up to the absurd, then deliver it. I never rush.
* The Rule of Three: A classic. I present two similar examples, then a third, unexpected, and often absurd, one.
* Example: “My neighbor’s dog barks at squirrels, delivery trucks, and occasionally, at the existential dread emanating from his owner’s soul.”
* Sentence Structure Variation: Short, punchy sentences for impact; longer, meandering sentences for build-up or to illustrate absurdity through detail.
* Word Choice Precision: Every word counts. Is “walked” funnier, or “trudged,” “sauntered,” “bolted,” “shuffled”? I use strong verbs and evocative adjectives. I avoid clichés unless I’m intentionally subverting them.
* Dialogue Naturalism: Humorous dialogue should sound authentic, even if the situation is outlandish. I read it aloud. Does it flow? Does it reveal character naturally?
Editing with a Comedian’s Ear: Pruning for Peak Performance
Editing humorous work is a unique beast for me. It’s not just about grammar; it’s about tightening every phrase, cutting anything that dulls the joke, and ensuring the comedic timing is absolutely perfect.
My “Ruthless Edit” Checklist:
* Redundancy Elimination: Am I making the same joke twice? Is a point being belabored? I cut mercilessly.
* Wordiness Audit: Can a sentence be shorter without losing meaning or impact? I remove unnecessary adverbs (“very,” “really,” “quite”) and weak verbs.
* Clarity of Joke: Is the humor clear? Sometimes, trying too hard to be clever makes the joke obscure.
* Over-explanation: I never explain the joke. If I have to, it’s not working. I trust my audience.
* Flow and Rhythm: I read the entire piece aloud, not just for grammar, but for rhythm. Does it sound like natural speech, or does it stumble?
* Grammar and Punctuation (Non-Negotiable): A perfect pun ruined by a misplaced comma is still a ruined pun in a contest. I proofread multiple times. I use grammar checkers, but I don’t rely solely on them. I always get a fresh pair of eyes.
* Kill Your Darlings (Especially If They’re Not Funny Anymore): That one line I love but doesn’t quite fit or isn’t actually that funny? It has to go. Sacrifices are made for comedy.
Here’s a concrete example of how I edit for humor:
* Draft 1: “The cat, who was a very lazy animal, just sat there on the sofa, not really doing anything, which was typical for him.” (Weak, wordy)
* Draft 2: “My cat, a creature of profound indolence, merely vegetated on the sofa, embodying the very essence of feline apathy.” (Better vocabulary, but still a bit clunky)
* Final Version: “My cat didn’t just sit; he meditated on the quantum mechanics of napping, his only discernible movement the rhythmic twitch of his tail, signaling deep philosophical contemplation or, more likely, a dream about a very slow-moving tuna.” (Specific imagery, elevated language for comedic effect, builds to an absurd punchline).
Navigating the Submission Process: Precision and Professionalism
Once my masterpiece is polished, the submission phase requires meticulous attention. This isn’t just dropping a file into a portal; it’s about presenting myself professionally.
Crafting the Impeccable Cover Letter (When Allowed/Required)
Some contests require a cover letter; others explicitly forbid it for blind judging. I always know the difference. When required, my cover letter isn’t a sales pitch for my humor; it’s a polite, professional introduction.
The components of my winning cover letter (I keep it brief):
* My Contact Information: Name, email, phone number, website (if applicable).
* Contest Name/Category: I clearly state which contest/category I am applying for.
* Title of My Piece:
* Word Count: I reiterate the exact word count.
* 1-2 Sentence Author Bio (if requested): I keep it relevant to my writing experience, not my life story.
* Polite Closing: “Thank you for your consideration,” etc.
What I never include:
* “This is the funniest thing you’ll ever read!” (I let the work speak for itself.)
* Explanations of my humor or my piece’s themes.
* My life story, unless specifically asked for in a very generous bio section.
Here’s an example of how I structure it:
* Subject: Submission to [Contest Name] – [My Piece Title]
* Dear [Judge/Editor Name, or “Contest Judges”],
* Please accept my submission, “[My Piece Title],” for consideration in the [Contest Name] in the [Category, if applicable] category.
* This piece is [exact word count] words.
* [Optional: Brief, professional bio if requested, e.g., “My work has appeared in X and Y literary journals.”]
* Thank you for your time and consideration.
* Sincerely,
* [My Name]
Formatting: The Unsung Hero of Readability
I mentioned formatting during rule-checking, but it really deserves to be emphasized. Correct formatting makes my work easy to read and shows respect for the judges’ time. Incorrect formatting is a red flag before they even read a word.
Common Formatting Expectations (I always check specific contest rules!):
* Font: Times New Roman or Courier New (often 12pt). Some contests are very specific.
* Line Spacing: Double-spaced is standard for prose. Poetry and scripts have different conventions.
* Margins: 1-inch margins all around.
* Header: My last name and page number on every page.
* Title Page: Sometimes a separate title page is required, listing my name, contact info, and the story title. Other times, the first page is simply the start of the story, with no identifying info (blind submission).
* File Type: PDF is generally safest as it preserves formatting, but many contests accept .doc or .docx.
My expert tip: After formatting, I save my document as a PDF and open it to check if everything looks correct. Sometimes, conversion can subtly shift elements.
The Submittable Labyrinth: Mastering the Online Portal
Most reputable contests use online submission platforms like Submittable. While convenient, these platforms definitely have their quirks.
My Submittable Strategies:
* Create an Account in Advance: I never wait until minutes before the deadline. I familiarize myself with the interface.
* Profile Completion: I make sure my profile information is accurate and up-to-date.
* Category Selection: I double-check I’m submitting to the correct contest and category within the platform.
* File Upload: I follow the instructions precisely for file naming and attachment. I upload the correct, final version.
* Review Before Submitting: Submittable usually allows me to review my entire submission before finalizing. I take this opportunity to catch any last-minute errors.
* Confirmation Email: I save the confirmation email I receive from Submittable. It’s my proof of submission.
The Entry Fee: A Necessary Evil (or Investment)
Entry fees are common. They fund prizes, administrative costs, and judge compensation. I view them as an investment in my writing career.
My considerations:
* Budgeting: I set a realistic budget for contest entries.
* Fee Waivers: Some contests offer fee waivers for low-income writers or for early submissions. I always check their policy.
* Value Proposition: Is the prize worthwhile? Does the contest offer publication, exposure, or just bragging rights? I assess if the fee aligns with the potential return.
What Happens Next? The Waiting Game and Beyond
So, I’ve submitted. The hard part is over, right? Not quite. The period after submission is crucial for maintaining my sanity and planning my next moves.
The Agony and the Ecstasy of Waiting
Contest results can take weeks, months, or even a year to be announced. This is completely normal.
My strategies for sanity:
* Set it and Forget it (Almost): Once submitted, I move on to my next project. Obsessively checking the contest website will only drive me crazy.
* Note Deadlines and Announcement Dates: I keep a spreadsheet or calendar of when I submitted and when results are expected. I never contact the organizers before their stated announcement date.
* No News is Not Necessarily Bad News: A lack of immediate rejection is not a bad sign. Judges take their time.
The Art of Learning From Rejection (It WILL Happen)
Rejection is an inevitable part of being a writer. In humor, it stings because I’m being told my jokes weren’t funny enough. However, I see it as an opportunity for growth.
How I embrace rejection:
* I Don’t Take it Personally: Humor is subjective. What one judge finds hilarious, another might not. My piece simply didn’t resonate with that particular judge, at that particular time, for that particular contest.
* I Analyze (If Possible): Some contests offer feedback; most do not. If I do receive feedback, I treat it as a gift. It’s rare.
* I Re-Evaluate and Resubmit: A rejection from one contest doesn’t mean my piece is bad. It means it wasn’t right for that contest. I take an objective look at my work with fresh eyes, perhaps make some minor tweaks, and submit it elsewhere. This is key to a long writing career.
Leveraging Success: When My Wits Win Awards
Congratulations! My humor landed, and I’ve won or placed. This is where I maximize the impact.
My actionable steps after a win:
* Update My Bio: I immediately add this achievement to my author bio on my website, social media, and future submissions.
* Example: “Winner of the Jokesmith Award for Humorous Short Fiction (2024).”
* Promote Myself (Tastefully): I share the news on my social media, newsletter, or blog.
* Network: If the award comes with an event or other winners, I connect with them. These are my peers.
* Consider Future Submissions: Winning one humor contest often makes my work more appealing to others. I use this momentum for future contest entries or even direct submissions to literary journals.
* Analyze My Winning Piece: What made it stand out? Can I replicate elements of that success in future work without becoming formulaic? This isn’t about copying, but understanding my strengths.
Beyond Contests: Sustaining My Humorous Writing Journey
While contests offer validation and exposure, they are just one facet of building a successful humor writing career.
Building a Body of Work: Consistency is Key
Award-winning humorists don’t just write one funny piece; they consistently produce engaging, witty content.
My ongoing practices:
* Write Regularly: Even if it’s just practicing comedic bits, observational notes, or character ideas.
* Read Humor: I immerse myself in the work of other comedic writers – essays, novels, screenplays, stand-up transcripts. I analyze why it’s funny.
* Collect Ideas: I keep a “humor notebook” or digital file for funny observations, overheard dialogue, absurd headlines, or bizarre personal experiences.
* Seek Feedback: I join a critique group specializing in humor. I get honest, constructive criticism.
Understanding the Subjectivity of Humor
Humor is profoundly subjective. What one person finds knee-slappingly hilarious, another might find baffling or even offensive. This is why contest results are never definitive judgments on my worth as a writer.
How I embrace the subjectivity:
* Broaden My Appeal (Carefully): While staying true to my voice, I understand what kind of humor has a wider appeal, especially in a contest setting where I need to connect with multiple judges.
* Refine, Don’t Conform: I don’t abandon my unique voice to chase trends. Authenticity often fuels the best humor.
* Develop a Thick Skin: Not everyone will laugh. That’s absolutely fine. I focus on my ideal audience and keep writing for them.
Conclusion: My Laughter-Filled Path to Literary Acclaim
For me, submitting my humorous work to contests is more than a gamble; it’s a strategic endeavor. It demands meticulous research, precise execution, unwavering professionalism, and a resilient spirit. By understanding my unique comedic voice, choosing the right venues, painstakingly polishing my manuscript, and navigating the submission process with absolute clarity, I significantly elevate my chances of transforming my witty insights into tangible awards. This journey is iterative, marked by both triumphs and learning opportunities. But for me, as a humor writer, the pursuit of that well-deserved laugh—and the recognition that sometimes comes with it—is a profoundly rewarding adventure. So go forth, make ’em laugh, and claim your prize.