How I Wrote 1,000+ Jokes in My First Year of Stand-Up Comedy

When I tell people I wrote over 1,000 jokes in my first year of stand-up comedy, their reactions fall into two camps. The first: “That’s amazing! What’s your secret?” And the second: “Okay, but how many of them are actually funny?”

The answer to both is the same: not as many as I’d like, but enough to keep going.

Let’s be honest—when you’re starting out in comedy, most of your jokes are trash. Not recycling-bin trash, either—straight-to-the-landfill trash or, even better, trailer trash. But writing a thousand jokes isn’t about hitting the comedy jackpot every time. It’s about reps. It’s about building a muscle. And, like any exercise or dating relationship, it starts awkward, painful, and embarrassing, but eventually, you see progress.

Here’s how I did it and, while your journey will likely look quite different, perhaps there’ll be something here of value to you.

First, I wrote all the time—or at least, I thought about writing all the time. If inspiration struck while I was driving, I’d yell at my phone to take a note (voice-to-text has gotten pretty good!). If I was in a conversation and someone said something funny, I’d jot it down. Anyone close to me knows the drill by now. “Pause your story—I need to write this down!” They’ve learned that my interruptions aren’t rudeness; they’re the cost of living with a comedian.

Some jokes came instantly (by the way, I am including my “tags” in my joke count). I’d type in a premise, and within minutes, I had a punchline. Other jokes took months—literally months—to take shape. I’d revisit an idea and think, Oh, now I see the joke. And some? They’re still sitting in my database, mocking me with their potential. Unwritten, unloved, and waiting for me to figure them out. It’s like parenting teens, but for punchlines.

Second, I was always in a comedy class. I didn’t just stumble into writing 1,000 jokes; I had deadlines. Teachers expected jokes. So, I’d write. Having a timetable kept me accountable. Deadlines aren’t just for college English students—they’re for people who want to get better at anything, including comedy.

Third, I always had shows lined up. If fear of humiliation isn’t a motivator, I don’t know what is. Knowing I had two, five, sevent, ten, or thirty minutes to fill in front of an audience—some paying, some heckling—kept me writing. If a joke bombed in one show, I’d rewrite it for another. If it bombed again, I’d rewrite it for the next. And if it bombed after that? Well, I kept it in my database knowing that I may need it in the future.

Fourth, I became a full-blown nerd for joke structure. If there’s a book, podcast, video, or article on the science of jokes, I’ve probably consumed it. I don’t just love comedy; I dissect it. Topic, Premise, Setup, Punch, Tag—I live for the mechanics. I’ve read about incongruity theory, superiority theory, and the science of laughter (yes, that’s a thing). It’s been helpful to have a background in rhetoric (I’ve written one book on it!) and to be able to identify and use rhetorical devices. There are many! It’s also been beneficial to have a deep and abiding interest in logical fallacies. They’re pretty much there in every joke! Anyway, I catalog my findings and practice every technique I learn. My database is less “notebook of ideas” and more “spreadsheet of obsessive tendencies.”

Fifth, I teach comedy writing at an actual college. That’s right—I’m the professor making students write jokes for a grade. Teaching comedy forced me to think critically about what works and what doesn’t. Reviewing and editing student jokes made my own writing sharper and faster. And let’s be real: grading jokes is better than grading essays. “C- for lack of punchline” is way easier to write than “please clarify your thesis.”

Finally, somewhere along the way, I started thinking in jokes. This wasn’t a conscious choice—it just happened. The more you write, the more your brain gets rewired to look for punchlines everywhere. The downside? Not every moment is an appropriate time for humor. I’ve had to learn when to shut up—like when someone tells you their pet just died, and your brain immediately thinks, he’s in a better place—of course, any place is better than your house. (I’ll save the inappropriate jokes for another post.)

And let’s talk about tools. I keep all my jokes and ideas in a database that syncs across my devices. This is essential because inspiration doesn’t wait for you to grab a notebook. Whether it’s a half-baked premise or a fully formed punchline, I get it down fast before it disappears. If I don’t write it down immediately, it’s gone—like that moment of confidence before stepping on stage. And I also follow the old rule-of-thumb in comedy that sounds like hoarding: keep everything and discard nothing.

Motivation helps too. I want to be great at this. I want to succeed. I’m not interested in being mediocre, and that drive has kept me going through every bomb, every rewrite, every awkward silence—and believe me, there have been a lot. But I’m reminded of what the great Norm MacDonald once said, “Comedy is surprises, so if you’re intending to make somebody laugh and they don’t laugh, that’s funny.”

Frankly, it’s been amazing to look back on my progress. Early on, my jokes were like IKEA furniture—some assembly required, with missing parts. Now, they’re more polished. I’ve had comedians, even writers for people like Bill Maher, tell me I’m a great writer. Hearing that was like fuel. It didn’t just boost my confidence—it lit a fire under me to keep going. And hearing that from fellow comedians I shared the stage with has also been super encouraging.

And going to shows—both small clubs and big theaters—has been invaluable. Watching other comedians, seeing how they handle the crowd, and how they take over the stage has been as educational as any class. Every gesture, every laugh, every moment teaches you something.

So, that’s how I did it. I wrote over 1,000 jokes in my first year, not by accident, but by intention. And the best part? I’m just getting started. Here’s to the next 1,000. Hopefully, more of them will actually be funny.