Last weekend, someone who’d been in the audience caught me after the show and asked, “Did that really happen?” The story they were asking about actually did happen. But here’s what fascinates me: people ask this question all the time, even when I’ve clearly embellished parts of my set. But you know what? I don’t think they really care about the answer.
Here’s why: people pay money to watch comedians who they know are embellishing, fibbing, or outright fabricating stories. It’s really not that odd though: they do the same thing with movies, songs, fairytales, books, and magicians. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. My question: why are people so willing to be fooled? My answer: they’re not, at least to a degree. My realization: an audience is willing to suspend judgment as long as the emotional truth of the story or joke rings true.
In my shows, I often tell a story about fighting with my wife in Rome during our 20th anniversary trip. The core is real. We had a fight in Rome, Italy. But I add theatrical elements: it starting in the Roman Colosseum then bleeding out on to the streets, people stopping to photograph us instead of the ruins, crowds gathering around us, my wife crying, me making it worse by asking if her haircut is what’s upsetting her. Parts of that didn’t happen. But the emotions behind it? Those are 100% true.
And they have to be. My story absolutely has to feel true because the minute something feels inauthentic, I’m done. When an embellishment doesn’t fit with a comedian, their persona, their vibe, etc., the audience knows. And they know right away. They’re willing to play along, even pay to play along, but only if you stay authentic to who you are.
This is really part of the problem with trying to tell someone else’s joke: it comes off wrong because it didn’t happen to you. It’s the same with trying to sound like someone else: it gets spotted immediately. People pick up on when you’re ripping someone else off. Authenticity means being yourself. Telling your stories from your perspective. All that has to align.
I, for instance, work clean. I’m a Christian. I’m an academic/scholar. These aren’t just labels. They’re constraints I’ve chosen that clarify who I am. If I started cussing or telling vulgar jokes, it wouldn’t come off as authentic. This means that who I am on stage should align with who I am in real life. I have edgy material, even dark stuff. Many times it works. But vulgar, dirty, and hateful content wouldn’t because it violates my authenticity. By limiting what I can say and do, I’ve actually made it easier to stay true to myself. Ironically, there’s a certain freedom that comes from constraints.
This all, of course, affects how I write. When I’m crafting additions to a story, for example, I’m always thinking about how to punch it up at every turn. But I have an internal gauge for when I’ve gone too far. The test is a simple question: has something like this ever happened in my life? If it has, I can sell it. If not, the audience will sense it’s totally made up and conjured. And…that’s precisely when I stop getting laughs. Embellishments have to be reasonable and relatable. They have to fit within the framework of the story and fit my persona. They have to be, at the core, emotionally true to me and who I am.
Comedians aren’t in the business of fact-telling. We’re in the business of entertaining. The way to connect with an audience is through emotional authenticity. That only comes by being yourself and telling your stories from your unique perspective. When someone asks “Did that really happen?” after a show, I sometimes ignore the question. Sometimes I redirect the conversation. But usually, I dial into the part that’s emotionally true and just talk about that.
Let me give a personal example: My wife often gets annoyed when she comes to my shows. She knows exactly when I’m exaggerating or embellishing, exactly when my stories veer from historical factuality. And it bothers her. Nobody else knows, though. So, they just laugh and enjoy themselves. I’m there to do my job, to entertain and make people laugh for a little while. When she watches other comedians, however, she’s totally willing to roll with it because she doesn’t know or care about the historicity of events. She cares about the emotional truth, which is what she can connect with and relate to.
That might seem to contradict what I’ve been saying all along but it really doesn’t. Here’s my point: the magic isn’t in the facts; it’s in the feelings. So, adopt this comedy mindhack when you’re writing and performing: always tell the emotional truth! And as long as you protect that emotional truth, whether you’re on stage embellishing or off stage being asked about it, your audience may well follow you anywhere… even to Rome.
By the way, if you have any interest at all in learning to write some jokes or doing stand-up comedy, check out my online joke writing course, “The Joke Writer’s Lab,” HERE.