Comedy Gigs, Part 1: Writing a Set

With the writing I've been doing lately, comedy's been at the front of my brain for quite some time. I thought it'd be interesting to go through what actually happens during a performance from my point of view: how I write my set, the feeling of being in front of a crowd, how I take in the audience's responses to my jokes, what variables you have to take into consideration before/during the performance—all that stuff. This entry, though, just focuses on the writing aspect; I'll go over the two performances I've had this year, both of which involved the same material, in later entries.

WRITING THE SET

The first of my performances was at the my local theatre, the IPAC, and it was for the RAW Comedy competition. Each year, the Melbourne International Comedy festival runs this comp to scout for young comic talent. Comics sign up for local heats held in all the capital cities, as well as a few other places, and on performance night, everyone performs their set to an audience. The set mustn't be blatantly offensive, nor may it run for any longer than five minutes. The judges determine who'll go through to the next round, and this process continues (with the same judges) through semi-finals, state finals, and the national final, the latter of which is broadcast on television. At the national final, the judges crown one joke teller the champion and hand them their prize: a spot in the So You Think You're Funny competition, held at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

I wanted to approach the construction of my set as logically as I could. First off, they made it clear in the rules you needed to stand out. Most of the comics who made it to the final made observations about everyday life, told personal stories, or did one-liners. Wanting to stand out, I avoided that for the most part, and decided to have a focus on topical issues and word play.

Having said that, it's not like I sat with a blank page and went "right, jokes... jokes... topical issues, need some of those..."—far from it. I have archives of material which I update whenever I have new ideas, or when I want to expand on existing ones. I had to find material in these archives that seemed like it had potential, and over the next few days, certain bits popped into my head: I had a bit on pornography, a bit that had sat there unused for over a year; I had a couple of lines on the Australian Prime Minister's attitude to gay marriage; and I had a rather long set on euphemisms for sex. This seemed like plenty to fill five minutes.

The sex euphemism jokes had been tested in a class I took at uni last year; the rest of it though, while it had potential, was untested. This was risky, as it meant I had no clue whether the material would go well or not, but it seemed like good stuff. I started linking these segments when my mother was in the hospital—I dunno how, but when I was there with my laptop, everything just came together in my head, and the order in which these jokes should be told was organised rather quickly. I also chose to start with an older joke of mine about train stations, just to make sure I would start my set with a laugh (if your first joke isn't funny, the audience loses confidence in you very quickly). As for the ending, I wanted to finish on a joke that would get me applause (to end big, as it were), but was unsure of exactly how funny the ending was.

With my audience in mind, I knew I couldn't have jokes going over their heads. Fact of the matter is, given my friends, my high school, and my university. I'm used to being around smart people. But this performance is not for intellectuals; it's for the general public. The jokes themselves weren't about theoretical physics or marine biology or anything (I don't even understand those topics myself, lol), but the wording of each joke had to be understandable to your everyday person. There was a joke I had that used the word 'eugenics'; that had to be replaced with a reference to genocide (and my mum thought even that was pushing it :P). I also mentioned sadomasochism and atheism, though these words were kept; they seemed to be suitable. It may seem like nothing, but it's important to know your audience, cos if they don't like your kind of humour, or if they don't understand you, they'll quickly dislike you. Thankfully, the topical nature of my jokes also had a positive side: when an audience hears an argument for something that they agree with, they'll feel smarter for understanding it, meaning they'll be more likely to applaud and more likely to enjoy the show.

In addition to all this, the script was too long. I rehearsed over and over, deliberately slowing my speech down to ensure the audience would understand me (sometimes I speak so fast that people don't understand me). And in timing each run-through, it was always just over the five minute mark, so I had to carefully consider how useful each line was, deleting as many as possible without ruining flow. Set-ups had to be shortened; punch lines had to have more punch; and topical jokes that pushed an agenda without being funny needed to go—if it wasn't there to get a laugh, it was of no use to me. When I performed in last year's RAW, they had a red light that would blink when you got to four minutes, so I knew I was able to generally keep track of time while I was performing, but still had trouble deciding what to cut, and what I'd have to rush through if I was falling behind.

Two of my friends read the script before I performed, and they said it was really funny, as well as liking the political angle, so I was at least partially assured that this material would go well. I was never really nervous about the material not working—not because I'm arrogant (although I am arrogant :P), but because I generally don't feel nerves until I'm actually at the venue, due to perform. 

After that, it was just practise, practise, practise, all the way up until the night of the first performance.

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