Here’s the article rewritten as if I’m sharing it directly with you:
So, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we get better at writing funny stuff. You know, you’re sitting there, typing away, convinced you’ve just birthed the funniest thing since sliced bread, right? But then, you put it out there, and… crickets. Or worse, confused looks. That space between what I think is hilarious and what actually makes someone snort-laugh? That’s a huge gap, and the only way to bridge it is with feedback. But not just any feedback – we need the kind that truly helps us sharpen our material, turning it from a blunt instrument into a comedic scalpel. This isn’t about getting told you’re amazing; it’s about getting real, actionable feedback to elevate our funny.
We Gots to Get Specific: Why Humor Demands It
Think about a chef, right? They’re not just asking, “Is it good?” Oh no. They’re asking, “Is it too salty? Does it need more acid? Is the texture working?” Humor is the same. It’s this delicate dance of timing, surprise, relatability, and often, a little subversion. So, when someone just says, “Eh, it’s not funny,” that’s useless. But if they say, “The setup dragged a bit, so by the time the punchline hit, I’d forgotten what you were even talking about,” now that’s pure gold.
Sure, humor’s subjective. We all know that. But there are still some core principles. A joke might fall flat because the premise isn’t clear, the words are off, the timing is terrible, or the audience just doesn’t connect. Pinpointing those exact spots where it failed (or succeeded!) lets us get in there and fix it. Without different sets of eyes looking at our stuff, we’re basically stuck in our own heads, trapped in our own comedic biases, totally blind to our material’s real potential – or its glaring flaws.
Gearing Up: Getting Ready for Feedback That Actually Helps
Before I even share a single word, I’ve learned that getting ready is key. It’s not just about polishing our work; it’s about setting the stage for the right kind of feedback.
1. First, Figure Out What We’re Even Trying to Do
Every funny thing we write has a purpose, right? Is it a clever observation? Dark satire? A silly pun? A sketch driven by a character? When I understand my intent, it really helps me ask for the right kind of feedback, and it helps my readers know what they’re even looking for.
- For example: If I’m writing a satirical essay about modern work culture, my goal might be to make people think and laugh through exaggerated irony. If I’m crafting a one-liner for stand-up, it’s all about that quick, sharp laugh.
- My move: Before I share anything, I try to jot down (even just for myself) a quick sentence about what my piece is for. Like, “This sketch is meant to satirize the absurdity of corporate team-building by showing characters who are truly awful at it.”
2. Critique Ourselves First: The Pre-Flight Check
I never just dump my half-baked ideas on someone else. I put my own work through the wringer first. This helps me catch the obvious stuff and, honestly, it shows I respect their time.
- Read it aloud: Humor absolutely has to sound right. Reading it out loud helps me catch weird phrasing, clunky rhythms, and timing issues. Is the punchline too long? Does the setup just drag on forever?
- Highlight my own doubts: Are there lines I’m just not sure about? I highlight them. Those are prime targets for feedback.
- Check for clarity: Is the main idea super clear? Is the character’s motivation understandable? Does someone need a whole history lesson to “get” the joke?
- My move: After my own self-critique, I write down 2-3 specific questions I have about my piece. This gets me ready for targeted feedback. Like, “I’m worried this character might be too stereotypical. Does she feel authentic enough to be funny?” or “Is the twist at the end too predictable?”
3. Know Your Audience (for Feedback): Who Should I Ask?
Not all feedback is created equal. The source really, really matters, especially for humor.
- A diverse reading crew: I always aim for a mix of people.
- Fellow writers: They get the craft, the structure, the comedic theory. They’re great at spotting technical flaws.
- Non-writers/My target audience’s stand-ins: These folks are crucial. If my humor is for a broad audience, these readers tell me if it actually lands, if it’s relatable, or if I’m just being too inside-baseball.
- People with different tastes: Some people love puns, others dry wit, others slapstick. Different palates give me a much better idea of how widely my material resonates.
- Stay away from the “Yes-Man”: Seriously, avoid anyone who only gives praise. They’re not helping us grow. I look for people who are honest, even if it stings a little.
- Think about the medium: A stand-up routine needs feedback from people who get live performance, while a humorous article needs feedback from people who actually read long-form stuff.
- My move: I make a mental (or actual) list of 3-5 people I could ask for feedback, making sure there’s a good blend of writing experience and general audience representation.
The Art of the Ask: How to Get Feedback That Works
Just sending something off with “What do you think?” is basically asking for vague, useless answers. We need to be super precise in our requests.
1. Frame Your Request: Specificity Is King
This is, hand down, the most important step. I tell my readers exactly what kind of feedback I need. I don’t assume they’ll just know where to focus.
- What is this thing? (e.g., “This is a 5-minute stand-up bit about dating apps.”)
- What’s its point? (e.g., “I’m going for observational humor here, with a relatable, slightly self-deprecating tone.”)
- What specific questions do I have? This is where my self-critique comes in handy.
- “Is the premise clear in the first 30 seconds?”
- “Does the pacing feel right? Are there any parts that drag?”
- “Which punchlines are landing best? Which ones just fall flat?”
- “Is character X’s motivation believable enough for the joke to work?”
- “Is there anything that feels offensive or could be misunderstood?” (Super important for sensitive humor.)
- “Do you understand the underlying point I’m trying to make, or is it too subtle?”
- “Is the ending strong, or does it just fizzle out?”
- My move: I write a short, clear intro paragraph for my feedback request that covers what the piece is, its purpose, and 3-5 specific, actionable questions.
2. Set Expectations: Time, Format, and Tone
- Time commitment: I try to be realistic about how much time I’m asking for. A 20-page script is way more effort than a two-paragraph joke.
- Feedback format: Do I prefer comments right in the document, a bulleted list in an email, or a phone call? I state my preference.
- Tone: I make it clear that I’m looking for honesty and constructive criticism, not just praise. I want them to feel safe telling me the uncomfortable truths.
- My move: I’ll include a sentence like, “Please don’t hold back; I’m looking for honest, constructive criticism to truly improve this piece.”
3. Give Context (But Not Too Much): That Tricky Balance
I give readers enough info to understand what I’m going for, but I never over-explain my jokes. If a joke needs a whole paragraph just to “get it,” it’s probably not working.
- Intended Audience: “I’m writing this for general adults, leaning a bit towards millennials.”
- Medium: “This is for a live storytelling event, so it needs to feel conversational.”
- My move: I briefly mention my target audience and where/how the piece will be used at the beginning of my request.
Receiving Feedback: The Art of Just Listening (and Not Getting Defensive)
This is where a lot of us stumble. It’s human nature to defend our work, but for humor, that’s a death sentence for improvement. Our whole goal here is to understand, not to argue.
1. Listen Closely (Read Carefully): Focus on Understanding
- Silence the Inner Lawyer: My first instinct might be to explain why I wrote something a certain way. I fight that urge. Just listen. The goal is to understand how my work is perceived, not how I intended it to be perceived.
- Ask Clarifying Questions (Thoughtfully): If something’s unclear, I ask. “When you said ‘the pacing felt off,’ could you give me an example of a specific section?” or “What part of the character’s dialogue made them feel inauthentic to you?” I focus on “what” and “how,” not “why.”
- Look for Patterns: One person saying a joke doesn’t land is an opinion. Three people saying it is data. I pay closest attention to the critiques that keep showing up.
- My move: As I get feedback, I resist explaining or justifying. I jot down key points and specific examples my readers give me.
2. Embrace the “Flop”: Celebrate Failure as Data
Every joke that flops is a goldmine of information. It tells us exactly where our comedic machinery broke down.
- No laughs is a loud sound: If my beta readers aren’t laughing where I want them to, that’s incredibly valuable. I don’t just dismiss it as “they just don’t get my humor.” I think about why they didn’t get it.
- Pinpoint the “Why Not”: Was it confusing? Too slow? Too niche? Offensive? Unrelatable? Nailing down the reason lets me target my revisions.
- My move: I mentally (or physically) highlight every section where I wanted a laugh and didn’t get one. Those are my main targets for revision.
3. Separate Opinion from Actionable Insight
Not all feedback is equally helpful.
- Opinion (“I just didn’t find it funny”): While this points to a problem, it’s not actionable on its own. I dig deeper. “Why didn’t you find it funny? Was it the topic? The delivery?”
- Actionable Insight (“The setup for this joke is so long, I forgot the premise by the time the punchline arrived”): This gives me a clear directive: shorten the setup, clarify the premise.
- “Fix my joke for me”: I never ask people to rewrite my material. They’re telling me it doesn’t work; it’s my job to figure out how to make it work.
- My move: For each piece of feedback, I mentally categorize it: “Actionable,” “Needs Clarification,” or “Opinion (needs more digging).”
4. The “Thank You”: Building a Feedback Relationship
I always thank my readers sincerely, no matter what their feedback was. They put in their time and effort. This builds good vibes and makes them more likely to help me again.
- My move: I send a short, personalized thank-you message after I get feedback.
Applying Feedback: The Never-Ending Process of Sharpening
Collecting feedback is just half the battle. The real magic happens when we revise.
1. Cool Down Period: Let It Simmer
I don’t jump into revisions right away. I give myself a day or two to just let the feedback sit without getting emotional about it. This helps me approach my work with a clearer, more objective mind.
- My move: I put the feedback aside for at least 24 hours before I even look at it alongside my work.
2. Prioritize and Categorize: What to Tackle First
Feeling overwhelmed by notes? I break them down.
- Big structural issues: Does the premise need to be clearer? Does the character’s journey make sense? These often mean big rewrites.
- Pacing and timing: Are there parts that just drag? Can I get to the punchline faster?
- Word choice/Phrasing: Are there funnier verbs, more precise nouns, or tighter sentences?
- Specific punchlines: Did certain jokes just bomb?
- Consistency/Believability (even in absurd humor): Do the rules of my comedic world actually hold up?
- My move: I create a list of feedback points, lumping similar items together. I assign a priority level (High, Medium, Low) based on how much impact addressing them will have.
3. Experiment Relentlessly: Don’t Be Afraid to Kill Your Darlings
Humor is often about trying things out, failing, and trying again. If a joke isn’t working, I have to be ready to delete it entirely, rework it, or try a totally different angle.
- Branches, Not Just Edits: Instead of just tweaking a line, I try two or three completely new ways of writing that joke or scene. I save different versions if I’m working digitally.
- Exaggerate or Understate: If a joke isn’t landing, I try pushing the absurdity further, or maybe I pull it back to a more subtle, relatable place.
- Change the Perspective: Can the joke be told from a different character’s point of view?
- Timing Shifts: I play with where the punchline lands – earlier, later, or even as a surprise within the setup.
- My move: For sections that got tough feedback, I force myself to come up with at least three completely different ways to write or deliver that funny moment.
4. Proof of Concept: Back to the Readers
Once I’ve done some serious revisions, especially on the main problem areas, I go back to my trusted readers.
- Targeted Resubmission: I don’t always need them to reread the whole thing. “I’ve reworked the first scene based on your feedback. Could you tell me if the premise is clearer now?”
- Observe Reactions: If I get a chance to test material in front of a live (even small) audience, I pay close attention to where laughs happen – and where they don’t.
- My move: After one round of revisions, I pick a key section that I reworked a lot and ask specific feedback providers to re-evaluate just that section.
Advanced Strategies for Staying Sharp
Beyond the basics, these strategies really help me develop a good eye for comedic details and a solid feedback system.
1. The “Why Is This Funny?” Dissection
This isn’t about over-explaining jokes, but understanding how they work.
- Analyze Successful Humor: When I see something funny I admire (in books, stand-up, shows), I don’t just laugh. I ask:
- What made that funny?
- Was it the word choice?
- The unexpected twist?
- The relatability?
- The character acting authentically in an absurd situation?
- The timing of the delivery?
- Apply to My Work: If a joke is working, I try to articulate why. This really deepens my understanding of my own comedic voice.
- My move: I pick two published humorous works (an essay, a comedy special bit, a short story) that I genuinely find hilarious. I then dissect 2-3 specific jokes or comedic moments, explaining why they work from a craft perspective (wordplay, timing, character, etc.).
2. The “Eliminate the Unnecessary” Pass
Humor, especially sharp humor, is all about being concise. Fluff kills jokes.
- Every Word Counts: I go through my work and cut any word, phrase, or sentence that doesn’t move the plot forward, deepen the character, or directly contribute to the humor.
- Setup Economy: Can I convey the setup in fewer words? Every extra word delays the punchline.
- Dialogue Tightening: Do characters ramble? Can their point be made more succinctly and funnily?
- My move: After a round of feedback, I do a dedicated “tightening pass” on my material. For every sentence, I ask: “Does this absolutely need to be here, and does it contribute to the laugh?”
3. Embracing the Cold Read Test
This is super useful for anything spoken (stand-up, sketch, dialogue).
- Unfamiliar Reader: I have someone read my material aloud who hasn’t seen it before.
- Listen for Stumbles: Do they trip over phrases? Where do they pause awkwardly? These tell me where my pacing or phrasing is off.
- Observe Unintended Emphasis: Are they emphasizing words I didn’t intend, which might kill the joke or change its meaning?
- My move: I find a new reader who hasn’t seen my work and ask them to read it aloud while I listen. I note every place they stumble, pause awkwardly, or misinterpret the humor.
4. The Humor Packet Concept
Instead of sending full scripts, I sometimes send themed packets of jokes or short bits.
- Targeted Practice: If I’m working on wordplay, I’ll send 10-15 puns. If it’s observational humor, a collection of short observations.
- Less Overwhelming: It’s easier for busy readers to digest and give specific feedback on.
- My move: I compile 5-10 short, related humorous concepts (like character traits, observational jokes, one-liners for a specific topic) into a “packet” and selectively send it for feedback, asking very specific questions about each item.
The Never-Ending Journey of Being Funny
Getting feedback on our humorous work isn’t a one-time thing; it’s this continuous, evolving cycle. You write, you critique yourself, you ask for targeted feedback, you listen, you revise, and then you do it all again. Every “flop” is data, every laugh is a win, and every piece of constructive criticism is a guide pointing us toward sharper, funnier material. By embracing this whole process with a bit of humility and a lot of careful analysis, we can really turn our potential into comedic power, one perfectly placed punchline at a time.