Writers wear many hats—author, editor, and harshest critic.
That solitary process works for most genres.
Except humor.
Humor demands an audience. Not just any audience—an unbiased one. And the writer certainly isn’t unbiased.
Funny cannot be verified in isolation.
You may think a line is hilarious. But until someone else laughs, it’s just a theory.
One way to test humor is by sharing it with other writers. Conferences are great places to find honest feedback from people who understand the craft. Events like the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop bring together writers who are happy to tell you when a joke works—and when it doesn’t.
The best test, however, is a live audience.
As a college professor, I have access to a daily audience—albeit a sleep-deprived one. I also test material with friends, colleagues, and occasionally the staff at Starbucks, who suspiciously seem to go on break when I walk in.
I don’t perform extended routines in class or ruin friendships with long monologues. I’m usually testing a quick line or idea. I’m interested in the audience reaction, but I’m even more interested in how the humor feels out loud.
If a joke feels awkward when spoken, the written version will almost certainly bomb.
The ultimate proving ground for humor is stand-up comedy. That’s why the final exam in my humor writing course is a five-minute stand-up routine. (I’ll explain that infamous exam in another post.)
Of course, the thought of performing stand-up terrifies most writers.
If that prospect frightens you, remember Jon Stewart’s observation:
There are a hell of a lot of jobs that are scarier than live comedy. Like standing in the operating room when a guy’s heart stops, and you’re the one who has to fix it.
Humor writing is unique because it requires verification from an audience.
If you want to improve your humor, share it. Test it. Listen carefully to the response.
Because until someone else laughs…
You don’t actually know if it’s funny.
