Comedic Context and How It Shapes the Jokes We Laugh At

by Ellie Cameron

People like to laugh. 

We laugh at jokes on our phones, we laugh at characters in sitcoms, and we laugh with our friends telling stories to embarrass each other. I think it’s safe to say that the average person picks up some sense of comedic timing simply by consuming comedy. 

As an editor for “R U Joking?,” an online comedy publication edited by Rowan University students, I'm constantly bothering my friends, colleagues, and random strangers on the street to write and submit the stories they find funny. Almost every time, I’m faced with variations on the same responses: “I can be funny in conversation but I can’t write funny,” or “It’s a funny story to tell but not when I write it,” or “Please leave me alone.”

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

So why do we feel that we can be funny, just not in writing? Is it lack of confidence? Is it lack of skill? Is it the lasting trauma of high school writing classes? Or is it a matter of context?

As my college first-year writing students are tired of hearing, context is a part of any type of writing: an email, a poem, and yes, even comedy. When we laugh with our friends, how many of our stories are long, winding tales that are too specific and convoluted to be accessible to anyone not “in the know” with us? If you told it to someone else, would they get it? 

The answer is usually no; the joke’s context is too hard to follow.

Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash

If a hard to follow context can be the difference between a full-throated laugh and a polite, pitying chuckle, what exactly is the context of comedy? Beyond the joke-to-joke specifics of content, which changes based on what you’re writing about and when you’re writing about it, the context is essentially the setup of a joke or story and how it’s delivered, especially how long it takes to deliver it. 

Think of it like a pizza; if it’s not there in 30 minutes or less, is it still as appealing? Or is it cold, soggy, and stuck to the cardboard box?

Context tells us why we should laugh—it makes the punchline funny. If the setup is too long-winded, if the context is unrelated, the audience isn’t going to get the joke.

Think of it like a pizza; if it’s not there in 30 minutes or less, is it still as appealing? Or is it cold, soggy, and stuck to the cardboard box?

When you tell a funny story to your friends, if you’re anything like my friends, it often involves telling three other stories, twenty interruptions for unrelated topics, and at least ten minutes of awkward silence while they try to remember what they were originally saying. They overextend their story, and by the time they get through the long rambling part, the context is completely jumbled and lost.

This is why writing comedy, as opposed to being socially funny, is viewed as hard or inaccessible. It’s why people “can’t write funny.” 
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That’s a misconception. Anyone can write funny.

The key to writing funny is to consider the jokes and stories that we tell along with the context around them. Trim the extra bits and pieces, think about what details a reader needs to know, and then all that’s left is the hardest part: putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. 

This trimming is how we can shape our context to serve the joke. When writing comedy, part of shaping the context effectively is being aware of the length. Comedy thrives in specificity, but it also needs brevity. 

Don’t explain the joke. Don’t drag out the set up. Don’t fall back on high school writing classes. Set up the joke, hit the punchline, and get out of there while the audience is still laughing. 

R U Joking? may be a newer website, but there’s a key similarity to big name sites like The Belladonna and McSweeney’s, and a large number of comedy publishing websites – they typically have low word counts.

Don’t explain the joke. Don’t drag out the set up. Don’t fall back on high school writing classes.

R U Joking? will give you 800 words to make the reader laugh.

The Belladonna maxes at the same, but prefers 550-700.

McSweeney’s caps at 1200, but prefers 1000 or less.

Why do these websites have such low word counts? It’s simple; most readers have short attention spans, especially when reading on their phones. If you can’t hook their attention in the very beginning, you’ll be scrolled past.

This is especially true when writing comedy; taking too long to set up a joke—having an abundance of unrelated context—is a nail in your story’s coffin. There’s no time to wander off of the topic. Taking too long to tell a joke on paper means you risk losing your reader’s attention; you risk laughing alone at your own chaotic story. 

People like to laugh, but we don’t like to laugh alone. Learning how to shape your comedic context, how to find the best length of your story and trim the extra, will make your stories more accessible to a wider audience; there are dozens of comedy websites looking for content to publish. ​

Yes, even a concise, context-conscious story might get rejected one, two, or thirty times, but if the reader gets lost in overwritten tangents and side stories, it’s unlikely to make it beyond the in-group it originated in. In his book The Comic Toolbox: How to Be Funny Even If You’re Not, writer and writing teacher John Vorhaus describes the “Rule of Nine,” the idea that for every ten jokes you write, nine will be bad, but you just have to keep writing. Not every story will succeed, but you can increase your chances by being mindful of context.

Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash

Most people have a sense of humor, and most people have something to say, but writing comedy is still seen as an inaccessible skill. It’s not. Anyone can write comedy with a little attention to detail, a little contextual awareness, and a willingness to give it a shot. ​