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The Ultimate Humor Writing Cheat Sheet

by Alex Baia

About This Cheat Sheet

Hey there, I’m Alex Baia, a humor writer and an obsessive student of funny writing. I’ve
published humor in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Points In Case, and other publications. I’ve
been an editor of Slackjaw, a humor publication on Medium, since 2018. As an editor, I’ve read
thousands upon thousands of humor submissions, thereby further refining my beliefs, scientific
hypotheses, and biases about humor writing. You might be wondering, “What’s the exact
number of submissions you’ve read?” The answer is 13,404. You can find out more about my
writing and comedy projects over at alexbaia.com.

This sheet you now hold in your hands is a cheat sheet for writing short, premise-driven humor
pieces. If you are not holding this sheet in your hands, please print it out on paper so that the
previous sentence is true. Or, have a robed scribe transfer this document onto fine parchment.

What is premise humor? Premise-driven humor pieces (or “comedy articles” or whatever you
want to call them) are typically around 300 - 1,000 words. They focus on a main funny idea,
a.k.a. “the premise.” Short humor pieces are a fun, versatile, and chameleon-like form of
writing. You can do a lot with them. Not everything, but a lot.

The goal of this cheat sheet is to equip you with some basic concepts, tools, and mindsets to
help you write and publish short humor. I call it a “cheat sheet” because I hope it’ll save you the
time and agony of figuring all this stuff out on your own. If you’re already writing humor and
publishing your funny articles, I hope this cheat sheet gives you an extra insight or two.

By the way, this cheat sheet does not cover any other humorous or comedic writing forms—e.g.
sketch comedy, funny personal essays, humorous literary short stories, comedic novels—but
perhaps some of the ideas in here are useful if you write funny material of other ilks.

Enough explainin’. Let’s get into the cheats.

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Index
1. Some Helpful Humor Writing Terms
2. Four Features of Good Humor Writing
3. Short Humor Writing Mistakes
4. Writing Books I Like
5. Humor Writing Classes I Like

1. Some Helpful Humor Writing Terms

The following is by no means a complete glossary of humor writing. Instead, these are some
concepts that I see humor writers bring up over and over.

Premise: Short humor pieces typically have a central comedic premise. The premise is the main
joke of the piece. Other good ways to define a humor premise are:

● The main thing that’s funny about the piece.

● The overriding, unusual thing in the piece that makes it work comedically.

● The main element in the piece that comedically heightens throughout.

In Jack Handey’s New Yorker piece, “Job Rejection,” the premise is that a mean person
repeatedly rejects a single job applicant with a series of over-the-top rejection letters.

In Wendi Aarons McSweeney’s piece, “Airplane Passengers as Explained By Their Pants,” the
premise is that you can infer surprising and funny things about an airline passenger from their
pants. This is the unusual thing that Wendi Aarons heightens in this piece.

Heightening: Good humor heightens. Sometimes “heightening” is also called “escalation.”

Here’s a good definition of ‘heightening’ from humorist Mike Lacher:

“To me, heightening is expanding your premise in new and surprising ways that still
connect coherently to what you’ve set up earlier. It’s walking that balance of finding new
territory while not jumping so far ahead that it feels contrived. In terms of humor
writing, you usually see this in terms of ‘the jokes getting funnier.’
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But I think that feeling is less about the fact that the author saved the best jokes for last,
and rather that they’ve carefully expanded the premise step by step in more surprising
ways. That feeling of surprise makes it feel ‘funnier.’“ - Mike Lacher

That definition is from my interview with Mike, which you can read here, on The Writing
Cooperative. Good heightening makes a humor piece consistently funny all the way through. A
humor piece that just repeats the same joke does not heighten the premise. But a piece that
continues to explore new applications or consequences of the premise will feel fresh from top
to bottom.

The Game: This is a term from improv and sketch comedy that I sometimes see applied to short
humor. The Upright Citizen’s Brigade Comedy Improvisation Manual defines the game of an
improv scene as “what is funny about your scene. It is a consistent pattern of behavior that
breaks from the expected pattern of our everyday lives.” (p. 64).

When applied to short humor, I think “the game” and “the premise” are the same thing. I’ve
seen people try to distinguish these two ideas in prose humor by saying, for example, that the
game is the evolution of the premise over the piece. But I don’t find that idea too practically
helpful, so I use “the premise” and “the game” interchangeably in humor writing.

Point of View (Narrator or Character): A humor piece is often written from the point of view of
a narrator. Depending on the style and format, the narrator may have more or less importance.
For example, in a character monologue, the narrator’s point of view is prominent. In a story, the
narrator’s point of view is traditionally understood as the vantage point from which the story is
told. In prose humor, I think of the narrator’s point of view as the comedic voice, tone,
perspective, and desires of the person narrating the humor piece.

Point of View (Author): In a satire piece, the author’s point of view is whatever they are trying
to say with their satire. This is often the opposite of the narrator’s point of view. This can lead to
confusion. If someone in your writing group gives you notes on a piece and says, “The POV is
unclear here,” you’ll want to know whether they are talking about the narrator POV or your (the
author’s) satirical POV. Example: In the Slackjaw piece “New — It’s Adjunct Barbie™!” the
narrator’s POV is that of a copywriter for a toy company. The company is advertising an exciting
new adjunct professor Barbie doll. The satirical POV, on the other hand, is that being an adjunct
professor is a hellish and miserable job.

Types of Humor - According to the Gotham Humor Writing course: When I took the Gotham
Writers’ humor writing course they broke down humor into the following 7 types:
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● Exaggeration: Using “blown up” statements that aren’t meant to be taken literally. One
of the simplest, most common humor techniques.

● Juxtaposition: Combining two unexpected and different people, situations, or entities,

for comedic effect.

● Shock/Surprise, e.g. The “audacious single-mindedness” of the character Humbert

Humbert in Vladimir Nabokov’s novel Lolita.

● Extreme Situations, e.g. In T. C. Boyle’s short story “The Ape Lady in Retirement,” a man
takes an ape-researcher and a chimpanzee up in his small airplane and funny antics
ensue.

● Sound/Rhythm/Wordplay: Some words, and sentence constructions, just sound funnier

than others.

● Irony: When the literal meaning doesn’t match the underlying meaning.

● Attitude: Some narrators or characters simply have a funny outlook. (This one feels a bit
circular, but you can see what they’re getting at.)

Funny Filters - from “How to Write Funny” by Scott Dikkers. According to The Onion founder,
and long-time editor-in-chief, Scott Dikkers, all humor uses one or more of these 11 “funny
filters”:

● Irony: When the literal meaning is the opposite of the intended meaning.

● Character: When a comedic character acts out her clearly defined traits, a joke happens.

● Shock: “Sex, swearing, violence, and gross-out… Anything that’s impolite in mixed
company.”

● Hyperbole: “Exaggeration plus.”

● Wordplay: Broadly speaking, “any kind of fun you can have with words.”

● Reference: Relatable observation–“readers have seen, heard, or experienced what the

author is describing.”
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● Madcap: Absurdism, non-sequiturs, and crazy, made words and descriptions.

● Parody: Poking fun at some other entertainment product--movie, TV show, book,

magazine, website, etc.

● Analogy: Finding similarities between two very different things.

● Misplaced Focus: When the writer intentionally focuses on the wrong thing or
something that shouldn’t matter.

● Metahumor: Using humor itself, or the idea of humor, as a comedic target.

As you can see, Scott Dikkers’ list and the Gotham list agree substantially, but Dikkers’ list is the
slightly more complete of the two. By the way, Dikkers’ book “How to Write Funny” is a gem if
you want to understand the nuts and bolts of humor writing.

2. Four Features of Good Humor Writing

If I had to stand on a gymnast’s balance beam and call out the main features of good humor
writing before I fell off, here’s what I’d say:

1. The premise is clear throughout: The reader is easily able to get what’s funny about the
piece. This doesn’t mean that the reader necessarily picks up on every bit of subtext in
the piece, it just means that the main joke is pretty obvious to an intelligent reader.

2. The premise is clear from early on: The reader understands the comedic premise from
very early in the piece, sometimes from the piece title alone, or within the first few
sentences.

3. The premise is fresh and original: If the topic and execution of a humor piece feels too
familiar, or too similar to other stuff that’s out there, then it’s less funny. “I’ve already
seen this idea” = Not funny.

4. The piece heightens with jokes that are original and clever: The jokes feel fresh and
sharp. The jokes avoid humor cliches and jokes that other people have made before.

Are there occasional exceptions? Probably. But for something like 98.2% of pieces, I’d say these
principles will serve you well.
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3. Short Humor Writing Mistakes

Let’s expand upon those quick and general observations above and get into some of the more
frequent mistakes humor writers make when crafting premise humor. Some people get
argumentative over the word “mistake” here. “Don’t tell me what’s a mistake!” “Let me decide
what’s funny!” “Don’t weigh me down with dumb rules, all of this stuff is subjective!”

I’m not saying that every possible funny humor piece completely avoids all of these “mistakes.” I
am saying that, in my practical experience as an editor and a writer of short humor, these are
some of the main things that can hold your humor back. I have made all of these mistakes
dozens or hundreds of times.

1. Not using a funny, clear title.

The title of your humor piece should let your readers know here’s exactly what’s funny, or
interesting, about this piece. It should reveal a compelling, specific premise that gets people to
click.

If you’re a famous writer who regularly publishes humor in The New Yorker, you can probably
afford vaguer or more literary titles. But for the rest of us who are publishing short humor
online: use a clear, funny title!

A title like the classic, “It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfucker” (which implies a specific
type of funny narrator) beats a vague title like “Gourd Season” (which implies very little).

Here’s another clear, solid title from Slackjaw: “Women Of Shakespeare On Tinder.”

2. Not solidifying your comedic premise within the first paragraph.

The first few sentences of your piece should deliver on the promise of your title and quickly hit
the reader with an LOL-worthy moment. If you need a setup, make it concise. Experienced
comedy writers dive right into the funny. Here’s a solid example: the opening paragraph from,
“This is Not a ‘Breakup’ it’s a ‘Pivot Toward Life Without Denise’,” by Erica Lies.

“Dear Tanner: Due to changing projections in my quarterly emotional needs model for
fiscal year 2019, I am pivoting our relationship from domestic partnership to
acquaintanceship. This revolutionary new policy is effective immediately.”
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Here we have an absurd breakup notice delivered as a jargon-laden business email. After
reading the piece headline and the first paragraph—just 33 words—we know exactly what the
joke is and where the piece is going. That’s a good, tight setup.

3. Having more than one premise (going off focus).

A premise-driven short piece should have one clear humor premise, not more. I often see
pieces where the author introduces—perhaps inadvertently—jokes or ideas that don’t fit their
original, primary idea. This is called “going off focus.”

In the first piece I wrote for Slackjaw, “Facebook Algorithm Upgrades,” the comedic premise is
that Facebook users would be happier if Facebook reduced the newsfeed to nothing. That’s the
only premise. If the piece started talking about how tech companies misuse personal data or if it
turned into a rant about social media, these things would be off focus from the premise.

It is easy to go off focus. It still happens to me when I draft fresh pieces, and it helps to have a
good outside reader—e.g. a writing buddy—to catch it. Develop hawk vision for this question:
“what’s the premise here, and is every sentence in my piece furthering this premise and this
premise alone?”

4. Using jokes or topics that are familiar or clichéd.

Comedy requires surprise. Familiarity undercuts it. The worst version of this mistake is using
comedy clichés, e.g. “That’s what she said!” Even if your topic, or your take on that topic, feels
too familiar, your piece won’t be as funny. Instead, explore under-explored topics. Or mine
territory that’s personal and unique to you. Or, if your topic is familiar—say, you’re writing
about how commercial airlines are unpleasant—give the reader a totally original take that she’s
never seen before. Be original and surprising.

5. Never getting outside reader feedback on your drafts.

When you’re trapped in your head, your humor will suffer. I’ve been there for months, spitting
out draft after draft where the premise was unclear, or the jokes misfiring. You need a reality
check. Get outside feedback—a writing group, a friend, a teacher, or a coach—to read your
humor and tell you if it’s working or not.

Does ever single humor writer need feedback on every single draft? No. The more experienced
you become at humor writing, the more you get a feel for when your early drafts are any good.
But feedback greatly improves the vast majority of humor writing. Especially in the earlier
stages of your humor writing journey, not getting any feedback ever is a huge disadvantage. And
there’s no reason to give yourself that disadvantage when classes, writing groups, and writing
buddies are readily available.
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Writing and “failing” is fine. Keep stumbling and learning. But don’t live in a palace of delusion,
thinking your comedy is hilarious when no one else does. Get feedback, take the ego hit, and
start improving.

6. Not being concise.

Good humor writing is tight. There are no wasted words. Always ask: “Do I need this? Is this
sentence advancing my premise? Is this actually funny?” Then cut, cut, cut.

7. Not heightening enough.

Recall Mike Lacher’s definition of heightening: “expanding your premise in new and surprising
ways that still connect coherently to what you’ve set up earlier.”

Key words: new and surprising. All good short humor has forward momentum at each step:
Each sentence and paragraph unfolds a new, interesting consequence of what was set up at the
start. There is no treading water in humor writing, only forward motion.

When you read over your draft, ask yourself: Does the piece keep pushing into new and
stimulating territory, slowly but surely revealing amusing new surprises?

8. Not being hyper-specific.

Use interesting, unusual specifics. They make your writing pop. Another selfish example (a piece
I co-wrote with two friends): “What Your Favorite Piece of Furniture Says About You.” The joke
of this piece is that your taste in furniture predicts your personality in absurd ways. We included
weird furniture like, “1992 Goodwill futon with dog bite marks,” and “Assorted crystals hanging
from wall-mounted driftwood.” If we had instead used “futon” or “chair,” it would have been
boring. In fact, I actually owned an ancient futon with dog bite marks in grad school. It was an
abomination. It’s easy to pull weird specifics from your life.

9. Not ending on a joke.

In general, each sentence of your humor piece should do one of two things: (1) Give necessary
information or set-up, or (2) Deliver a joke. By a joke, I just mean, “something funny.” And each
paragraph should end with a bigger, satisfying joke.

Remember: The funny thing goes at the end. How many of your sentences end with jokes? If it’s
too few, this could be a problem.

10. Including sentences or jokes that you don’t love.

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Very simple test: “Do I love this joke / paragraph / sentence / word?” If you don’t love it, cut it.
By the way, loving it is necessary but not sufficient for keeping it. Sometimes you should cut it
even if you do love it because the cut serves the piece as a whole. (See mistakes 3 and 6!) In
humor writing, as in all writing, love is great—but love is not enough.

11. Using a premise that’s too vague or broad

Strong premise-driven humor thrives on specifics. The same is true for the humor premise and
the headline itself. As a humor editor, I sometimes see submissions where the writer had some
vague idea for a rant, or they had some collection of witticisms that they wanted to publish. The
humor piece might have a title like this:

“Things that really piss me off about life!”

Or like this:

“Some amusing thoughts I had about dating and relationships.”

These pieces usually come across as jumbled and random. They are also a bit indulgent: the
author couldn’t be bothered to package their humor in a way that’s precise and coherent, so
they just threw their witty thoughts down on a draft with a vague and bland title.

Here’s the fix: Instead of a general piece titled, “Some Amusing Thoughts I Had About
Relationships,” try something more like this: “Some Thoughts I Had About Relationships The
Moment My Drunk Husband Fell Overboard On Our Norwegian Cruise.”

Counterexample? In Jack Handey’s New Yorker piece “Recent Articles Of Mine,” the title is
rather vague. However, the actual piece is not vague at all and is about an extremely specific
and funny situation. Also, the piece was published in a very popular print magazine where it is
less crucial to hook the reader with a specific, funny headline.

Can vague headlines, vague situations, or very general premise ideas translate into strong
humor writing? Yes, it’s possible. Anything is possible. But starting more specifically is usually
the stronger choice.

12. Not identifying your mysterious narrator

A writing teacher of mine, Allison K Williams, occasionally asked me a good question:
“Who is speaking here and why?” In humor writing, and perhaps in all writing, when the answer
to this question is non-obvious or nonexistent, the reader is confused.
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One example case where I see the mysterious, unidentified narrator come up is when a humor
piece is written from the POV of a publication or a reviewer. Example: “We are reviewing
Charlie’s ninth birthday party today, and, overall, we found it severely lacking.”

I’ll always ask: Who is ‘we’? Is this reviewer a writer for a newspaper or huge publication? A
random, deranged podcaster who sneaks into and reviews children’s birthday parties? Or is the
speaker one of two twin brothers who go to school with the birthday boy?

Easy solution: When your humor has a narrator whose perspective or identity matters, quickly
identify them and give us the basic background details. So often, this can be done in a sentence
or two, or in just a few words.

Not every narrator needts to be uniquely identified. In, “It’s Decorative Gourd Season,
Motherfucker,” the narrator is an F-bomb-loving, overly-enthusiastic, stereotypically-Italian guy
raving about gourds. That’s all we need to know. Beyond that, his identity doesn’t matter.

When you introduce a narrator or character in your humor, ask yourself this: “Is this person’s
identity, or the details of their job or their life, germane to understanding what’s going on
here?” Then give your reader just enough specifics so that they know what’s going on.

13. Giving a preemptory apology

I’ve already said that good short humor writing dives right into the funny. Some writers
needlessly begin with an explanation or apology. Here are two kinds I’ve seen:

(1) The “What you’re about to read is satire!” disclaimer.

A good standup comedian doesn’t walk on stage and spend five minutes explaining that what’s
about to happen is a comedy show and that some of the jokes might be edgy. Spare your reader
from preambles the likes of, “get ready my friends, buckle your seatbelts, because the satire is
about to begin!” This is cringey and unnecessary.

(2) The author apologizes for who they are, or adds that not everyone finds them funny.

Here’s another disclaimer I’ve seen more than zero times—which is far too many: “I’m an older
person, and I don’t get a lot of today’s humor, but I’m going to try it anyway. Don’t say I didn’t
warn you.”

Or, “My sense of humor is really edgy and dark and not everyone gets me! So be warned.”
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Or, “Harken! My humor is rather highbrow and chiefly intended for 15th-century Albanian
noblemen.”

Don’t do this. Not only are these disclaimers physically painful to read, but they are pointless.
There are hilarious writers of every age, background, and style. This isn’t some politically correct
shibboleth; it’s a fact. So don’t apologize for who you are, or for your sense of humor. Cut your
preambles, your disclaimers, and your apologies. Your words are better spent on jokes.

14. Gilding the lily: using too many jokes when you only need one
We’ve already talked about not including enough jokes—see mistakes 7 and 9. But you can also
pack in too many jokes.

I like the phrase “gilding the lily.” It’s an old-fashioned expression that means, “trying to add
beauty or ornamentation to something that’s already beautiful or perfect.” In humor writing,
the funny thing goes at the end—the end of the sentence, the paragraph, or the piece. The joke
at the end should be the single funniest joke you can find—and not more than that.

Humor writers of a certain persuasion can be tempted to crowd certain sentences, sections, or
paragraphs with excess jokes. I have this tendency myself, and it’s a tendency of which I need to
be vigilant. When you crowd a sentence or a section with too many jokes, you crowd the reader,
giving her no space to process the one funniest thing. This happens, I think, for two reasons:

(a) The maximalist desire: If one joke here is good, then five is better!

(b) Failure to edit: The writer is not sufficiently editing and cutting down to the essentials.

Check out Sarah Hutto’s funny Slackjaw piece, “12 Totally True Myths About Redheads.” The
premise is that redheads are evil and mysterious troublemakers. Here’s the coda of the piece:

“Redheads don’t die but morph into other lifeforms. While no one has ever been able to
actually kill a redhead, many have tried. Most learn the hard way that gingers only
shapeshift into your worst nightmares and haunt you for the rest of eternity, the
flame-haired scamps!”

Great button. Now imagine if this passage had been extended into ten sentences with ten
different supporting joke ideas: If you try to drown redheads, they’ll breathe underwater! If you
shoot them, they’ll catch the bullet in their mouth and chew it to bits! That would wear thin.
Instead, Sarah gets to the funny idea (that redheads cannot be killed) concisely and
dramatically. It ends with a punch.
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Some styles of humor writing, and some humor premises, lend themselves to a denser
concentration of jokes and weirdness. Other styles and premises need more breathing room.
Whether or not you are overwriting your piece with too many jokes can’t be answered from
first principles. I think it’s something you determine by feel, on a case-by-case basis. Here’s my
advice: play around with your joke density. Experiment and find what feels the funniest.

15. Not sufficiently revising and reworking your piece

Perhaps it’s an overquoted Hemingway line about craft, but it’s still a good reminder: “The first
draft of anything is crap.” I don’t think that’s true 100% of the time, nor should we believe it just
because our lord and savior Ernest Hemingway uttered it. But in humor writing, Hemingway’s
dictum holds with about 97.1% accuracy.

You almost always need to revise and rework your humor draft, sometimes multiple times.
Revisions can include:

● Structural changes to get the flow and the comedic escalation right
● Cutting the chaff (the less funny parts)
● Cutting the parts that are off-premise
● Simplifying and trimming out unneeded complexity
● Rewriting to make your individual jokes funnier
● Tweaking or adding specifics to make things clearer or to make the details funnier

Those are just a few common types of rewriting in humor pieces. How much revising should you
do? However much the piece needs.

I don’t think any humor piece can be perfect, but you should revise until you feel your draft has
maximized its potential. At that point, further tinkering will feel like a boring waste of time. I
personally rewrite every humor draft one to five times. On average, probably three drafts in
total.

Occasionally, your first draft is strong, and everything comes out on-premise. Congrats to you,
my friend, when that happens. More often, first drafts are like a hideous clay lump with some
hidden beauty inside: they need a lot of kneading to come out right. Thinking that your first
humor draft should generally be good enough for your readers is lazy and entitled. Instead,
think of yourself as an artisan, or a sculpter, with a vision: you will rework until you get it right.
But no pressure. The world has enough clay to last a lifetime. However hilarious or terrible your
initial attempts, there’s always more where that came from.
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4. Writing Books I Like

Comedy Writing Books

1. How to Write Funny (Part 1) by Scott Dikkers - Scott Dikkers is the co-founder and
longest-running editor of The Onion. This is the single best book on understanding
comedy at the atomic level. The book is less than 150 pages, and it is solid gold from
start to finish. How to Write Funnier (Part 2) is the second in the series.

2. Poking a Dead Frog: Conversations with Today’s Top Comedy Writers by Mike Sacks -
Sacks, a hilarious humor writer, interviews dozens of the best comedy writers. This is less
of a “how to” book (though there is a little of that) and more of a fascinating and
inspiring look into the heads of a bunch of great funny writers. Highly recommended.

General Writing Books

There are billions of writing books. Here are a few favorites that have helped my humor writing.

1. On Becoming a Writer by Dorothy Brande

○ A classic dive into the psychology of writing and how to find a writing process.
The description of free-writing to generate ideas (“morning pages” as Brande
calls them) is highly relevant for generating funny ideas.

2. Writing Tools: 55 Essential Strategies by Roy Peter Clark

○ 55 mini-essays on craft, ranging from sentence mechanics and grammar, all the
way to how to conceptualize writing projects. Just a highly useful,
all-killer-no-filler writing book.

3. How to Write Short: Word Craft for Fast Times by Roy Peter Clark
○ Here Clark focuses on short pieces, though not necessarily funny ones. Worth a
read if you are writing short pieces.

4. Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury

○ A fun and inspiring collection of essays on creativity, writing, and the writing life.

5. The War of Art and Turning Pro by Stephen Pressfield

○ When I meet people who’ve read Pressfield, they either love or hate these books.
I love them, and these are his two best.
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5. Online Humor Writing Classes I Like

1. Skillshare - Humor Writing: Write Funny for the Internet, taught by Mike Lacher.
○ This is a very short “class” on writing a short humor piece, by Mike Lacher. It is
only about 1 hour worth of video. If you just want a fun primer on some basics,
from one of the best humor writers, this class is perfect.

2. Second City - Satire Writing for the Internet

○ This class focuses heavily on McSweeney’s and Shouts and Murmurs style short
satire pieces. Although focused on satire, there is a fairly strong overlap with
humor writing more generally. This is a good class that I took early on in my
humor writing career.

3. Gotham Writers - Humor Writing Online

○ Based in NYC, Gotham is one of the biggest online writing schools. They have a
well-deserved reputation and good teachers. The writers at Gotham tend to be
more of the literary variety, in my experience.

Goodbye
I hope you liked this cheat sheet. And I wish you all good things on your humor journey. Happy
writing, friend.

Got feedback? Compliments? Money? You can reach me at alex@alexbaia.com

You can also check out more of my work at alexbaia.com