I talk a lot on this site about comedic persona. I also talk about it on my two podcasts and in my writing classes where I use joke writing to teach writing in general. I give lots of attention to it because, obviously, I think figuring out one’s persona is really important. In one way, without it, you’re just a person saying stuff. But once you find that core voice, your lens, your filter, your character, it has a way of really changing things.
When every opinion, every premise, and every joke passes through that persona like it’s going through a TSA pat-down (minus the feelings of being violated), things can operate a bit more smoothly. (Although, getting too hung up on it can actually be stifling!) It’s in this pat down that you might realize that some things need to be re-packed or that some things need to get pulled aside and searched. In my view, that’s one way of staying consistent and unique both in your writing and on stage.
BUT…having said that, I’ll also say that having a persona isn’t enough. It’s a great start. It’s the baseline. It’s necessary. BUT…a voice without conflict isn’t comedy. That’s where John Vorhaus’s idea of “The Law of Comic Opposites” comes in. In his book, Comedy Writing For Life, which I hope to review more fully in the future, he argues that your comedic persona must encounter something that pushes against it and creates friction. That’s very often where the funny lives. So, I’ve been thinking about it and, well, I’ve retrofit those and other pieces into a formula, perhaps for fun we could Halcomb’s Formula:
[(Persona × Opposite) + Tension] ÷ Unusual + Strong Opinion = Humor
Or: [(P x O) + T] ÷ U + SO = H
In one way, I’m just being silly here but, in another, I really do think this makes sense. Either way, let’s walk through this formula.
Persona × Opposite: We start with our comedic persona (the type of person we are on stage, which usually shouldn’t be all that different from who we are in real life). Then we multiply that by its opposite. That contrast creates friction, which is the foundation of humor. Think, for instance, about a perfectionist dad × lazy kids.
+ Tension: Then we add something that raises the stakes, like social awkwardness, emotional pressure, and/or real-world consequences. For example, the dad is sick and tired of his teens leaving their crap on the floor.
÷ Unusual: Next, we divide the result by what stands out as the weird, surprising, or out-of-place element. This reveals what’s funny and where the angle lives. In this case, perhaps, the kid actually and literally crapped in the floor.
+ Strong Opinion: Now we add a bold, exaggerated opinion to fuel the joke. Here, you can’t be neutral. This irate dad, faced with cleaning up his kid’s literal pile of crap, thinks it’s his wife’s fault that this happened and his kids are like this.
I’d like to think this works across all personas. If your persona is “The Know-It-All Dad,” then put him in situations where no one listens to him and the dog is still in charge. If your persona is “The Christian Who’s Trying Not to Cuss,” then put him in traffic, at the DMV, or teaching middle-schoolers. You need the opposite to expose the flaw and the flaw to get the laugh.
Even observational comics need this. “Here’s a weird thing I saw” doesn’t work unless it smashes into your perspective and point of view. If you don’t have a persona, the audience doesn’t know how to interpret your observations. Are you shocked? Are you annoyed? Are you amused? If they don’t know who you are, they don’t know how to feel about what you’re saying. But once they know you and you put yourself in situations that don’t go your way, they lean in.
So that’s the mindhack! Don’t stop at the persona. It’s a great hero, but it needs a villain. Find the opposite. Introduce tension. Create the problem. Form the opinion. And that’s the stuff out of which jokes are born.