Writing Humor: Making People Laugh (On Purpose)
(Or, How to Weaponize Your Inner Smartass and Survive the Worst Room in the House)
Let’s cut through the precious nonsense: writing good humor isn’t about being “the funny one” at brunch or knowing how to spell “self-deprecating.” Real comedy on the page is dirty work. It’s risk, timing, precision, and the willingness to look like an absolute ass—sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. It’s not about “lightening the mood”—it’s about making people feel something: shock, relief, a hot cringe, maybe even joy. But mostly? It’s about craft, guts, and the unfiltered honesty most writers are too chicken to risk.
Humor isn’t the easy way out. It’s the only thing harder than horror. But when it lands? There’s nothing sweeter, more subversive, or more likely to get you forgiven for every sin on the previous 200 pages.
Here’s how to actually make people laugh on purpose, not by accident—and survive the fallout.
1. The Dirty Truth: Funny on the Page is Nothing Like Funny in the Room
People think writing humor is just transcribing your best one-liner and calling it a day. The problem? Written humor can’t rely on facial expressions, timing, or physical gags. You don’t have a captive audience—your reader can bail the second you bomb. Your words have to do all the heavy lifting.
Reality Check:
Timing is everything. You have to set up and pay off—fast.
Surprise is your god. If they see it coming, you’ve already lost.
Honesty beats cleverness. If you’re faking it, the reader will sniff it out like spoiled meat.
2. Know Your Weapon: Styles of Humor and When To Use Them
A. Observational:
Sees the weirdness in daily life. (Think Seinfeld, but meaner.)
B. Self-Deprecating:
You’re the punchline. The audience feels safe laughing at your pain.
C. Absurd/Surreal:
Make the mundane weird. Make the weird mundane. Works best when played absolutely straight.
D. Dark/Gallows:
Takes pain, fear, or horror and flips it. Not for cowards or crowds still eating dinner.
E. Satire/Parody:
Mocking the powerful, sacred, or beloved. Risky, but delicious.
F. Physical/Slapstick:
Harder in prose, but can be done with the right eye for detail and escalation.
3. Anatomy of a Joke: The Set-Up, the Punch, and the Aftershock
A joke—on paper or stage—is a little narrative grenade:
Set-up: Lull them into expectation.
Punchline: Smash that expectation sideways.
Aftershock: Let it land, then move on before it gets stale.
Step-by-Step Example:
Set-up: “My love life is like my Wi-Fi—spotty, unpredictable, and strangers keep trying to log in.”
Punchline: “But at least my Wi-Fi remembers my password.”
Aftershock: Move the hell on. Never explain a joke. Never apologize.
4. The Survival Kit: Tools and Dirty Tricks for Writing Humor
A. Hyperbole and Understatement
Exaggerate past the point of sanity, or play it way too cool.
Example: “I was so hungry I would’ve mugged a squirrel. But I’m vegan, so I just glared at it until it ran.”
B. Rule of Three
Humans are wired for patterns. Two examples set up the rhythm, the third breaks it.
“Her perfume was expensive, overpowering, and probably illegal in six countries.”
C. Callbacks and Running Gags
Drop a joke early, bring it back later when the reader least expects.
Confession: I once used the same lame joke about socks three times in a novel, each time in a darker scene. By the end, people were desperate to see what would happen to the damn socks.
D. Wordplay and Puns
Dangerous territory. A well-placed pun can win the room; a bad one can make your beta reader quit.
E. Timing and Pacing
White space, sentence fragments, and paragraph breaks are your stage lighting.
Let the joke breathe. Land the punchline, hit return, then move on.
5. Character Is Your Funniest Asset
Make your characters funny—sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident.
A deadpan character in a room of lunatics is always gold.
The over-sharer, the dry cynic, the accidental poet, the outright fool—write them all.
Let humor come from who they are, not just what they say.
Personal confession:
My favorite line ever written was a character apologizing for burning down a kitchen: “In my defense, the fire was already out when I got there. The smoke? That was new.”
6. Survival Strategies for When a Joke Bombs (And It Will)
Never explain a joke. Never beg for forgiveness.
If a gag falls flat, let it stay dead. Bury it under a pile of better lines.
Learn from your failures. Humor is a highwire act. Sometimes you fall.
Ingredient hack:
If you don’t laugh when you reread it out loud, cut it. If you cringe, you’re getting close—humor lives in the risk.
7. Humor As Contrast: Sweet and Sour, Horror and Hilarity
Nothing makes a dark story darker than a good laugh.
Use jokes to break tension before you break bones.
The weirder or more tragic your story, the more crucial the laughs.
Dirty reality:
Comedy is the release valve. When you make a reader laugh after you’ve scared, shocked, or wrecked them, they’ll remember you forever.
8. Borrow, Steal, Twist—But Make It Yours
All great comedy writers steal.
Take the structure, break the punchline.
Rewrite famous jokes in your own voice.
Twist old setups, update references, bend genres.
Personal confession:
I once rewrote “Why did the chicken cross the road?” into a thousand-word noir monologue. No regrets. One editor cried. Win-win.
9. Keep a Comedy Graveyard
Not every joke is gold. Keep a file of failed punchlines, awkward metaphors, and cringy zingers.
When you’re desperate, dig one up, polish it, and let it try again.
10. Final Dare: Humor Is the Most Honest Liar
Write the thing that makes you nervous.
Make the joke that you think only you will get.
Chase honesty, risk embarrassment, and if you bomb—bomb with style.
Because when you finally land that laugh? It’s better than applause.
So go—
Make ‘em grin, make ‘em gasp,
and never write like you’re afraid of the silence.