5 Lessons from "The Comedy Writer's Companion"
Comedy Resources #11
I recently spent some time with The Comedy Writer’s Companion by John Vorhaus. I’ve read several of Vorhaus’s books and watched numerous of his talks and lectures and would suggest that you do so, too. Vorhaus’s predecessor to this book was titled The Comic Toolbox, which I read 2 or 3 times. And while this volume certainly has some of the same ideas, it’s a nice expansion. It digs deeper into the psychology of the creative life in general. What I mean is, in this book, he moves beyond the simple mechanics of jokes to discuss how a writer survives the crushing weight of their own expectations. Put another way, it’s focused on the writer’s soul as much as the writer’s script.
The first major takeaway: The Formula for Comedy. As noted in The Comic Toolbox, Vorhaus challenges the assumption that “Comedy = Truth + Pain.” He argues that “Comedy = Truth + Pain + Cruelty.” In his view, this explains why we laugh when a character slips on a banana peel or gets disconnected by customer service. It’s not just that we are all a bunch of sociopaths. No, we laugh because we are observing (from a safe distance) the character’s peace getting attacked or violated. This kind of cruelty leads directly into how we construct characters who are built to suffer for our amusement.
The same applies to myself when I write jokes where my peace is attacked, which is pretty much all of them. I’ve written jokes, however, where because I didn’t put enough distance between the event and me telling it, it didn’t work as well. It became uncomfortable for the audience. I couldn’t quite figure out why they felt sorry for me instead of laughing. Then, at some point, I realized: the audience isn’t laughing because they’re on my side; they don’t want to see me hurt, at least not a lot. Realizing that, I started to put some space between me and the event and also reframed things in a better way. In fact, for my last comedy show, I took three jokes I’ve been telling for a long time, reframed them and added in some distance, and they worked better. While I’ve been doing this all along on my own, Vorhaus has actually given me language to describe what I’ve been doing. For that, I’m grateful.
The second major takeaway: The Comic Filter. According to Vorhaus, the comic filter is a specific, exaggerated worldview that a character uses to process reality. He suggests that every character one creates or plays should experience everything through this filter. This tool creates a consistent voice or because it ensures the character is not just delivering random gags but reacting to the world in a predictable yet funny way. I think Vorhaus is right about this.
The only thing I’d suggest is changing “voice” to “persona,” because I think one should have an overarching persona and, beneath that, they can have a multitude of voices. For instance, my persona is “The Chief Mess-Up,” but I have numerous voices I weave in and out of: husband, father, professor, etc. But I remain The Chief Mess-Up in all of those. The point is: I must never leave my persona but must prove to the audience exactly who I am and how I will be funny within the first few moments of meeting them. Then I keep reiterating that over and over. One thing I absolutely love is Vorhaus’s point that we only learn who a character is when they are placed in a bind and forced to make a difficult decision. This goes well with my post HERE from a few days ago titled “Why Every Great Joke Needs A Fight.”
The third major takeaway: Don’t Fear Bad Outcomes. Vorhaus creates a safe space for failure. He contends that fear is the primary enemy of creativity. Thus, he introduces a mental tool called DFBO (Don’t Fear Bad Outcomes). The logic here is that if you stop worrying about whether the work is good, you actually free yourself up to produce volume and volume eventually yields quality. He also describes a concept called the Hope Machine. This is the internal engine that keeps creatives pulling the handle on the slot machine of opportunity as it were. Even if/when the rewards are not immediate, we must keep at it so we can advance. Honestly, this is a pretty self-compassionate way to look at the grind of it all because, at the end of the day, it values the effort as much as the result.
Fourth major takeaway: Find Your Tribe…And Their Anxiety. When it comes to the relationship between the comedian and the audience, Vorhaus advises against trying to appeal to everyone. I agree. He suggests, instead, that we look for our specific tribe. I have to admit, this isn’t always easy and can definitely take a while. But, once we identify our tribe, we have to dial into their specific anxiety. This is what will generate material that resonates with them on a visceral level. If, for instance, I’m speaking to a room full of dog owners about picking up dog crap, I’m connecting through a shared reality rather than just performing at them or even for them. And connecting is at the heart of it all!
Fifth major takeaway: Be a student first. This resonates deeply with me. As I’ve said many times on this site, I don’t quite like calling myself a comedian. I’m more a student of comedy. Vorhaus argues that comedians should embrace the humility of a student. They should put learning above all else. Learn who you are. Learn to reveal who you are to the audience; define yourself. Learn how to put together a tight five. He also touches on learning the delicate balance of status during a performance. What he means is, many performers suffer from low status and kinda beg the audience for approval. We should, instead, aim for a balanced status where we view the interaction inherent to comedy as a partnership to create fun. He goes on to argue that, if you have high status because you are killing it on stage, then give that status away to empower the audience. This is something you can really only learn by getting up on stage and doing it.
Vorhaus also admits to his own struggles and reinventions. The section on “The Goldilocks Setting,” where he discusses tuning jokes so they are neither too smart nor too dumb, is helpful. His willingness to adjust and find the “just right” level is on point and is really a testament to his belief in tool-driven creativity. These “intellectual tools” don’t kill the magic, but create a reliable platform for it to land. All in all, this book is a permission slip to fail big and a roadmap for picking yourself up afterwards. For Vorhaus, the goal is not just to be funny but to be active and alive through it all, and to remember that the work itself is much of the reward.
“ESSENTIALS OF COMEDY” COURSE BUNDLE: For a limited time only (through 2/15/26), you can purchase “The Joke Writer’s Lab” course and “The Comedian’s Memory Lab” course as a bundle. Just click on one of the courses below, scroll down, and click the “Add all to cart” button.
JOKE WRITING COURSE: By the way, if you have any interest at all in learning about your persona, how to write some jokes, or doing stand-up comedy, check out my online joke writing course, “The Joke Writer’s Lab,” HERE.
JOKE MEMORY COURSE: My companion course to “The Joke Writer’s Lab” is now live: “The Comedian’s Memory Lab.” Learn how to conceptualize, organize, and memorize your entire comedy set. This method works for 10 jokes or 100, a set that’s 3 minutes of 1 hour. You can get it HERE.