15 Steps to Funny

Maria Bamford's "You Are (A Comedy) Special" (Comedy Resources #1)

Maria Bamford might be the only person alive who can make whispering to squirrels feel like a legitimate artistic practice. And she’s definitely the only one who can get away with describing it as doing stand-up. I say that, of course, with hyperbole but also as a way to express my admiration. Her audiobook You Are A Comedy Special is one of the weirdest most wonderful things I’ve listened to in years. It’s about an hour-and-a-half long and is only available on Audible.

Somehow, the book manages to feel like both a pep talk from your most eccentric friend and a wild masterclass in how to wrestle your creativity into submission. When I say “wild,” I’m not joking. It is WILD. She moves in and out of jokes, characters, insights, etc. constantly and seamlessly. The title’s great but the subtitle really captures the essence of the book: A Simple 15 Step Self Help Guide to Forcibly Force Yourself to Write and Perform a Full Hour of Stand-Up Comedy. I want give the entire contents away here, but I will offer a taste of the book by giving a brief look at the 15 steps.

1. Call whatever it is you’re doing stand-up comedy. She says call it standup even if you’re whispering into a mirror or talking to a chipmunk while holding a banana like a microphone. In her book, that counts. More importantly though, she wants you to make sure it counts for you.

2. Do whatever it is you’re doing for one hour. Don’t do it for just five minutes or ten. Do it an entire hour, even if it’s just you talking with sock puppets. Fill the time and call it your hour.

3. Make comedy fun. Perform only in places you feel welcome. Host a potluck open mic in your living room. Do social media outreach to find accountability buddies. Reward yourself with stickers or tacos or naps.

4. Do whatever it is you’re doing again. Even if it went terribly, especially if it went terribly, do it again. Here’s a gem from this chapter: Don’t bother asking people if it was good; you don’t need approval to keep going, you just need to go again.

5. Do your comedy for one hour in public. That could mean a club a church foyer or yelling into a parking garage. It doesn’t have to be ready or polished. It just has to happen in a space where other living beings might witness it. Tortoises count.

6. Expect failure and rejection. People bomb, people get canceled, and people accidentally hurting others they care about. You can’t avoid pain. Instead, you have to embrace it because, if you’re doing anything interesting, you’ll probably fail. A lot.

7. Expect an existential crisis. If you’ve never cried on the floor about whether your material matters, are you even doing comedy? Bamford says this is part of the deal. Know you’re not alone in the spiral.

8. Find the sweet spot. Be ready for the tiny bursts of relief or joy when something goes well or when you simply follow through on a plan. These are fleeting and easily forgotten which is why they matter. So, be sure to notice them when they show up and maybe even write them down before your brain erases them.

9. Expect mania. That is: expect sudden rushes where everything feels possible and you go for it. Enjoy those while they last and, if possible, use that energy to make a plan.

10. Expect competition. It’s inevitable: at some point, you’re going to compare yourself to other comedians. And it’s going to suck. The best way out of that hole is to get closer to your own life, your own lived experiences. Write what only you can write. Say what only you can say. Another gem: nobody can outdo you at being you and that’s your edge.

11. Do a terrible half-@$$ job. It might seem counterintuitive to do a terrible job on purpose. Bamford says anything worth doing is worth doing badly. So do it. Badly. The real point isn’t to do it badly, but mainly just to do it.

12. Get cocky. Declare yourself a comedian. Say it out loud. Own it. Especially if the world around you doesn’t validate your voice or your point of view. It’s not arrogance to speak the truth about yourself. It’s survival.

13. Get ready to edit. At some point, ask other comedians for feedback, the kind that expands your horizons rather than crushes you. Ask questions like, “What made you smile?” or “What felt alive?” When you do this, you’re not fixing you’re growing.

14. Accept mediocrity. You don’t have to be great. Odds are, you probably won’t be great. You’ll be decent. You’ll make it work in some places and be awful in others and occasionally you’ll be magical.

15. Onward. Keep going. That’s it. Even if it’s messy or infrequent or weird. Even if nobody claps. Keep going. And then reward yourself because self-expression is gravy and you showed up.

This audiobook is an easy listen. It is laced with hard truths throughout but is also all wrapped up in joy and creativity. It’s for comedians or aspiring comedians, but it’s also for anyone who’s ever tried to make something and immediately wanted to quit. You can grab it free with an Audible trial or just buy it outright. It’s $13 which is a pretty good deal. So, if you need a creative kick in the teeth, this might just be it. Listen. Then create. Then keep going.