Sure, there are writers who command six-figure advances. Apparently, this guy wasn’t one of them. You may read about some gag writers who get $75 or $100 for a single joke from national comedians. But if you have a chance to have a local comic try out some of your material when he appears for a weekend at a small local comedy club, I doubt if you can demand a hundred bucks a gag.
So be wary. If you demand too much too soon, you could price yourself out of a career.
It’s never “your turn”: I’ve known comics who get frustrated and discouraged because a fellow comic gets a big break. Someone they’ve worked with on the comedy circuit for years gets a call from the network, lands a pilot, gets a slot on the schedule, has a hit, and makes a fortune. Now these comics get upset because “I’ve been doing comedy longer than he has. It should have been my turn.” That’s the point—there is no “your turn.” When you begin in the profession, you don’t pick a number like you do in a crowded bakery and wait for the clerk to call your ticket. It’s not really a haphazard process, but it’s not as orderly as being assigned a place in line.
It’s too much of a cliché to say that hard work and effort are always rewarded. Sometimes the comic who gets the break ahead of you is not deserving of it. Nevertheless, that’s the way the system works. Live with it.
You can’t let the success of others deter you from the work you want to do. You just have to keep working as if “your turn” will come. You just don’t know when.
It takes awhile for the world to recognize your talent: In 1964, Sonny Liston was the reigning heavyweight champion of the world. He was so fierce that many fighters avoided getting into the ring with him. One contender, in fact, refused to fight him. This fighter’s manager said, “We don’t even want to run into Sonny Liston on the street.” But a young Cassius Clay did challenge him.
Very few reporters and boxing experts gave Clay a chance. He was the decided underdog. In fact, it’s reported that only two sportswriters predicted that Clay would win. He did win, though. A battered Liston failed to answer the bell for the seventh round, making Clay a winner by technical knockout.
You all know the rest of the story. Cassius Clay changed his name to Muhammad Ali and was known as “The Greatest.” Many do consider him among the greatest boxers of all time. He was just as great before he defeated the awesome Sonny Liston as he was afterward. The problem was that very few of the experts knew it.
The world is reluctant to recognize greatness. Before they will concede it, you must prove it to them time and time again.
Once I was in the green room of a national telethon for some cause or another. Two other writers were in the room at the time. One was a newcomer to television and the other was a well-known wit. The youngster was throwing lines that were hilarious. He had the room in stitches. A comic was there waiting to go on to entertain on camera. He turned to the old pro and said, “I should hire you to write lines like that for me.”
Notice, he didn’t ask the young writer to write the lines. He asked the veteran, even though it was the newcomer who was doing all the funny lines. The comedy world, including this particular comic, was not ready to admit yet that the youngster had amazing talent. That’s just part of the business and one of those obstacles that you must patiently endure. Eventually, as they did in Cassius Clay’s case, they’ll recognize your skill.
You will be rejected: Like it or not, rejection is part of the writing life. I opened this chapter with a boxing parable and just finished talking about a famous and skillful boxer, Cassius Clay, who later changed his name to Muhammad Ali. I’ll use the fight game once again to make a point. I opted out of a boxing career once I realized that people were going to try to punch me in the kisser. Others like Muhammad Ali embraced boxing and built a legendary career in it. But all of those who do pursue a fighting career know that sooner or later someone is going to clobber them upside the head. It’s part of the sport.
Rejection is part of writing. All writers get rejected at some time or another—even the most successful ones. Yes, they can get their books published, but maybe the publisher may ask that Chapter Four be rewritten. That’s rejection. Being rebuffed will always be a threat to a writer. It’s never pleasant, but it’s also not the curse that we sometimes make it out to be. In fact, we’ll see that it can be a blessing.
Consider that being turned down by a publisher, an agent, or a client is not a condemnation of your product. There are many reasons why material may be refused. Perhaps a particular comic simply can’t afford more material at this time. Maybe a show you’re submitting a spec script to already has an idea similar to yours in the works. A certain comic may appreciate your humor but realize that it’s not compatible with his or her comedy style. And, of course, sometimes the comic may just think your stuff is terrible, but not always.
On one show I produced we needed a performer to play the love interest of one of our stars. It would be a part in only one episode. Several agents sent their clients to audition for our show. We had only one part to offer, but we had about nineteen applicants. If you do the math, it quickly becomes obvious that eighteen of them would not get the part. That doesn’t mean that eighteen of them were horrible performers. No. It simply means that we could hire only one.
Rejection can often be an incentive to improve the quality of your work. I knew a writer who submitted a piece to Reader’s Digest. The article may have run six pages. The assigned editor sent back a twelve-page letter critiquing the submission and offering various suggestions. The author followed that critique in rewriting the article, which did sell to the magazine. Not only did this article sell, but over time several others also sold. At one point this author was the leading freelance contributor to Reader’s Digest, a periodical that pays quite well.
Another friend of mine wrote a sitcom and submitted it to a specific show. Almost as soon as he sent it off, however, he was dissatisfied with it and knew it would not sell or impress the producer. He immediately began work on another spec script and sent it to the same show. As his new script was on its way to the producers, the producer’s decision on the first spec script was on its way to the author.
The first show was soundly rejected. But on reading the second script, the producer called his agent and said, “Hire this guy.” Just a couple of years later, the author and the producer were coproducing a new television series.
You can’t allow rejections to discourage you.
Earlier I said that rejection can sometimes be a blessing. Consider the casting call where eighteen of nineteen hopefuls were rejected. The following year, my partner and I were producing another show and needed an actress for a repeating role. We remembered one of the rejectees from that casting call and offered her a job on our new show. Being turned down for a one-week acting gig resulted in a twenty-six-week job. That can be considered a blessing.
It’s beneficial to learn the peaks and valleys of the profession you’re pursuing. Be prepared for the pitfalls and hang in for the long run. And remember, all things considered, it’s probably less painful than boxing.
Now let’s move on to the fun stuff—learning to write comedy.
A Brief Introduction to Joke Writing
A joke is anything that makes people laugh. A joke can be a series of words, an action, a reaction. It can even, in certain instances, be strategic silence.