And Here's the Kicker: Conversations with 21 Top Humor Writers on Their Craft

by Mike Sacks

  He's not the brightest chap, this “Stephen Colbert” character.

  That's one of the fun things about him. He is stupid, and yet, every once in a while, he will express some sort of minute knowledge that impresses everyone. He knows exactly how and why car engines work.

  But the character is a complete moron when it comes to other matters. For instance, he thought Watership Down, the book about a society of rabbits, was non-fiction. And it very much bothered him that the rabbits were at war.

  The irony, of course, is that Stephen — in real life — is one of the smartest people I've ever met. He's brilliant.

  One of the impressive things about The Colbert Report is what Stephen manages to do with language — twisting, inverting, and molding it. An example: “This show is not about me. This show is dedicated to you, the heroes…. On this show your voice will be heard, in the form of my voice.” It reminds me of S. J. Perelman's dense, imploding writing style.

  Both Stephen and I really enjoy what can be done with language. Stephen's background allows him to twist words in a very effective way. He is extremely well-read and he has a ferocious memory — he can pull it off.

  We definitely tread that line between being too verbal and just making the jokes funny. It's like what I was saying before about not becoming too enamored with your own work.

  Who coined the word “truthiness” in 2005? The word was so popular that it eventually became Merriam-Webster's number one Word of the Year for 2006. Here's the official definition: “Truth that comes from the gut, not books.”

  Stephen coined that word, and it actually appeared on our very first show [October 17, 2005]. The show has since coined other words, such as “wikiality,” which is “reality as decided on majority rule,” and “freem,” which was coined by one of our viewers. We used the word visually in our opening, and then someone online decided it meant “freedom” without having to “do” anything — without any responsibility or action.

  The show seemed so fully formed right from the beginning; it always had a tremendous amount of confidence. I remember a joke Stephen told the first week about James Brady, who was seriously injured during the Ronald Reagan assassination attempt. That takes a bit of nerve.

  That also happened in the very first show. There was legislation in Florida dealing with the issue of being able to shoot another person in self-defense. James Brady was obviously a critic of this legislation, but Stephen just did not understand why Brady would be against guns. It was the character being brazenly and willfully stupid.

  The next day we got a handwritten fax from James Brady that read, “You lily-livered Italian-suited four-eyed Jon Stewart — wannabe. You'll be crying in your cravat when I'm through. You want a piece of me? DO YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?”

  Brady really enjoyed the joke, which was fantastic.

  How did the audience react to something like that?

  Better than I imagined. They're very generous — I think they appreciate the boldness of saying something so wrong as a parody of cable-news blowhards.

  The show has a very subversive spirit that I think people enjoy; a lot of viewers wind up participating in the show somehow, whether it's taking Stephen up on a challenge, or creating ideas for the show completely on their own.

  Why do you think that is?

  I think a lot of times Stephen is asking the audience to play with him. And it's very fun to play with Stephen Colbert.

  Also, it's always more fun for the writers when we can interact with the real world. Our first idea for the show was to have a more fictional, sketch-y aspect. But we quickly changed our minds. Stephen's interactions are real — even if his character isn't. It's become almost like a Lazlo Toth — type of situation.

  Lazlo Toth was the pseudonym created by Saturday Night Live writer, Don Novello. The character of Lazlo would mail — with ridiculous concerns that he took very seriously — real-life executives, celebrities, and other public figures. He would receive hilarious responses back — some of which were later published in book form.

  We wanted to create a similar situation with Stephen's character on The Colbert Report. It can become confusing, because you're writing on a lot of different levels. Stephen Colbert is a person who plays himself. So, as a writer, you have to consider what you want the character to say. You also have to figure out what the real Stephen is saying. And how the audience will react to it all. And how the guests will respond. It can be overwhelming.

  Has it ever felt too overwhelming?

  Sure, sometimes. But I did feel that I had the right experience for this job, having worked at Late Night and at The Daily Show. I felt that The Colbert Report would be an outgrowth of those two influences: the satirical side of The Daily Show combined with the silliness and character-driven aspect of Late Night.

  You were combining elements from two shows, but by doing so you weren't necessarily making it easier for yourself as a writer.

  It wasn't easier, no. It's like a hall-of-mirrors. And it becomes even more complicated on the “Word” portion of the show. You have to write both the argument and counter-argument, and you have to get jokes out of both.

  When the show first started, many humor writers wondered how such a show could sustain itself.

  I left Late Night to work on The Colbert Report, and I only did so because I very much trusted Stephen's abilities. I felt that even if it was a failure, it would have been a smart failure.

  David Cross, who plays the Al Franken — type character Russ Leiber on The Colbert Report, thought the show was going to be weekly, not nightly. When he found out, he told us we were insane.

  Stephen's character, who was inspired by the Bill O'Reillys, Sean Hannitys and Lou Dobbses of the world, has since come a long way. The show is a function of this character's egomania, and I think the show can go wherever that ego goes.

  And it tends to work best when that ego goes into the real world. It's amazing who will play along.

  Which leads into my next question: How exactly did you get Henry Kissinger to appear on the “Guitarmageddon” episode in December 2006? Kissinger introduced the challenge between Stephen and the guitarist from the Decemberists, by saying, “Stephen, it's time to rock.”

  A lot of it has to do with the children or grandchildren of these celebrities. In the case of Kissinger, it was a younger member of his family who told him he could have fun on the show — although I'm not so sure he did.

  Well, it did look like Kissinger was having fun when he exclaimed, “Crank it up!”

  I'm not sure if he was having fun or merely experiencing pure befuddlement.

  It surprises me as to who's not willing to play along with the joke — they mostly seem to be liberals. One example: Massachusetts congressman Barney Frank.

  On a show in 2005, Stephen asked Congressman Frank if his weight was bothering his wife. Barney, being a notorious gay man, did not find this amusing. If I remember correctly, his response afterward was to call the show “sub — Three Stooges.”

  I wish he liked our show more, but not everyone's going to love it. And to be fair to Barney Frank, we interviewed him before the show had even debuted — it must have been extremely confusing for him.

  I want to talk about the schedule for a late-night talk-show writer. I was shocked when I heard how little time the writers have to create jokes for each show.

  We have a few hours in the morning to work on the bulk of the jokes. We have to work quickly.

  Can you run down a typical day at The Colbert Report?

  A typical day gets pretty hectic — I'm usually there anywhere from eleven to twelve hours.

  I arrive around 9:30. Usually, I've already gotten some news from the papers and from the news shows. I meet with Rich Dahm, a co-executive producer, and Tom Purcell, the head writer. I meet with Stephen, and then with the rest of the writers and producers. We go back and forth with ideas and jokes, and then the writers retreat into their offices to work on their assignments. We then immedia
tely get the production team working on the footage, graphics, music, and props we think we'll be needing.

  At one o'clock, the writers' scripts are in, and we begin editing and refining the pieces. There's a second production meeting, to go over new elements we'll need and to stop production on the ones that now seem unlikely to make it to air.

  The entire script is hopefully finished by around four. We have a rehearsal at around five thirty, maybe a little earlier, and we're done by around six. We rewrite and edit jokes that need to be fixed until around six forty-five. At around seven, the show is shot in front of an audience. We finish about forty-five minutes later, and we then go over the details for the following night's show.

  Is it true that writers work in pairs on The Colbert Report? One writer comes up with the lines as the other acts them out?

  No, they both write and act them out. There's definitely a need to say Stephen's lines out loud, to hear if they really sound like his character.

  You wrote an article for Slate magazine in 2001, and you listed the six types of jokes that writers weren't allowed to come up with at The Daily Show. One of the examples was to avoid “jokes that will get claps instead of laughs.”

  That's very important, actually. We write so many jokes about the news that sometimes we can move into an area of political statements rather than jokes. Our most important task is to be funny. Everyone who writes for our show wants to be a comedy writer much more than a political commentator. It's easier to get a clap than a laugh.

  Were you in attendance at the infamous White House Correspondents' Dinner on April 29, 2006, when Stephen gave a speech and managed to upset not only the president but half the D.C. media? Stephen said “… Wow, what an honor. The White House Correspondents' dinner. To actually sit here at the same table with my hero George W. Bush — to be this close to the man — I feel like I'm dreaming. Somebody pinch me. You know what? I'm a pretty sound sleeper — that may not be enough. Somebody shoot me in the face. Is he really not here tonight? Dammit. The one guy who could have helped….”

  Yes. A group of writers worked on that speech together. This is the type of material we write every night. It never occurred to me that it would affect the audience so intensely. But what we didn't take into consideration was who the audience was going to be: politicians and press people.

  When we had rehearsed that speech a few hours before, in front of hotel staff, we never had any sense that there might be a problem. So when I witnessed the reaction, I was shocked. Shocked!

  I was actually sitting with Stephen's family. Very close to me were Karl Rove and other insiders. I was in the thick of it.

  Did Stephen know how badly he was bombing with his immediate audience?

  The speech definitely wasn't getting a great response. Stephen is a fearless performer. He just kept committing to it, plowing forward. Having once performed myself, I know how difficult an accomplishment that is. It was inspiring.

  Did Stephen have any idea the effect he had on the home audience? It was broadcast on C-Span, and immediately became, as they say, an “Internet sensation.”

  Not really. Stephen only went up to the dais with the specific purpose of being funny. We had no idea how the speech would be perceived. Even later, when we did find out, we were surprised at the strength of the response. The reaction to that speech was a lesson on how many people wanted a voice of criticism at that moment in time.

  Are you tired of being asked what it's like to be one of the few female comedy writers in television?

  I am tired of it.

  I hesitated to even bring up the question, truthfully.

  Most of the time when it's brought up, the question isn't actually about being a woman; it's really about how poorly male comedy writers are perceived. Usually, people want to know how I survive in a writing room with a dozen men, whom they imagine are bullies and misogynists. That hasn't been my experience at all. I've written with great people. And it is important that women hear that being a female comedy writer doesn't mean you're going into battle. Maybe more of them will give it a shot once they know that.

  Any more advice?

  You have to be patient. You have to give yourself a chance. When you're first pursuing a job in a field like this, there's a strong tendency to panic. When I took classes with Del Close [a Chicago teacher of improv], he would challenge all of us to wait — to not make the cheap, easy joke in a scene but to have faith that something funnier and more organic was on the way. It can be that way with a career, too. There are a lot of times when your biggest task is to just stay calm and keep working.

  You don't have to write for Plant Physiology magazine.

  It's a journal, Mike. You just want me to pronounce that article title again, don't you?

  Yes, please.

  “Association of 70-Kilodalton Heat-Shock Cognate Proteins with Acclimation to Cold.”

  Got it: “proteins,” “cold.” Thank you very much.

  Thank you.

  Famous Last Words (of Advice)

  If this is what you love to do [writing for sitcoms], you should do it. Just realize there are going to be propeller blades that you're about to walk into.

  Don't have a soft heart. Get a strong stomach. Make a friend of heartbreak. Learn how to spend a few months on a script or a year on a script with it not being bought.

  Avoid “clammy” jokes, meaning jokes so old that they have a slimey film over them (for example, the spit-take joke). Avoid clammy plot ideas. (For example: the “Cabin Show,” in which a group goes away on a trip and gets stuck in a cabin after a snowstorm. They have no food or water, but they are going to learn something about each other.)

  Avoid “schmuck bait,” meaning story ideas that are so preposterous that only a schmuck would believe them. (For example, a woman going through labor in a stuck elevator.)

  If you don't have to write, then you shouldn't be doing this. Do not get in it just for the money.

  If you do happen to be hired on the staff of a great show, it's like riding a wave. It's the best job in the world. You're paid a criminal amount of money. You hang out with other writers and you make up stories and you tell jokes and you make each other laugh and people bring you food. Is there anything more fun than that?

  But, again, only do this if this is what you love to do. Otherwise …

  — Ian Gurvitz, Wings and Becker

  Quick and Painless Advice for the Aspiring Humor Writer, part six

  GETTING A JOB AS A WRITER FOR LATE-NIGHT TELEVISION

  Advice from Writers at Late Show with David Letterman, The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Saturday Night Live

  You don't necessarily need an agent to get hired as a writer on a late-night show, but it helps. When a head writer or producer is readying packets for writing jobs, he or she is going to see instant credibility in the ones who are represented by the large agencies.

  With that said, late-night shows tend to be idiosyncratic, which is a good thing. These shows are typically open to industry outsiders. They're still more likely to go with a known quantity than a stranger, but they flatter themselves in thinking that that's not always the case.

  As to how to acquire an agent, there are different ways. Perhaps an original project or film will get you noticed. You could also submit a script or other writing samples. Also, do some research. Find out which agents represent your favorite comedians and writers and then contact those agents' assistants. In Los Angeles, assistants are typically treated like mules, but they often go on to lucrative, high-level jobs that allow them, in turn, to treat others like mules. Find an assistant, send your packet, and be smart about it. The assistant wants to get in good with the agency as a talent spotter, so if you're talented, the assistant will almost certainly pass along your material.

  Know the show's voice. As a writer, it's important to have your own voice, of course, but a submission should prove you can adapt to other styles. Keep in mind that your packet sh
ould contain material that is meant to be performed and that is not just funny on the page; there's a difference. If you're in doubt, try reading the material aloud. If you stumble or run out of breath, those are red flags. Cut jokes that you think are funny but can't ever imagine the host/character/correspondent delivering. Prove that you watch and understand the show.

  When submitting to a show, you might be better off addressing your submission and cover letter to the writers' assistant rather than to the head writer or executive producer. You should never address your packet to the host. The show's writers' assistant is usually the first (and often only) judge of whether a submission is passed along. Look for the assistant's name in the credits.

  Never include with your submission the funny T-shirt you created, or bumper sticker you printed up, or Rupert Pupkin — style tape you made of yourself telling jokes in your bedroom. That sort of thing will get passed on to the writers, but only to be mercilessly mocked and eventually chewed to shreds by the office dog.

  Move to Los Angeles, New York, or, maybe, Chicago. Los Angeles has the most opportunity in TV and film. New York and Chicago have more places to develop and form a community of like-minded humor writers.

  Find your niche. Whether it's a regular comedy club, improv theater, magazine, or Web site, find a place where you fit in and have a network of people who share a similar sensibility.

  In general, it's better not to list your comedy accomplishments, especially if they only consist of clips from your college humor magazine.

  If you have a personal reference, mention him or her in your cover letter — unless that person was fired.

  Be brutally sparing in the length of your material. You should establish the premise and get out quickly. Sample packets for late-night comedy/variety usually run four to ten pages.