My Joke Writing Process, Or: How I Procrastinate with Purpose

Every comedian has a “process.” Some meditate. Some free-write. Some stare into the abyss until it blinks first. My process? It’s what I like to call structured procrastination with a punchline.

Let me explain.

Step 1: The Ritual of Avoidance

Every new joke starts with one sacred act: not writing it. I’ll do anything else first. Clean a drawer. Research the history of spoons. Alphabetize my condiments. You name it. Because deep down, I know that the best ideas strike when I’m pretending to be productive but actually just avoiding work.

Comedy is basically the art of turning “Wait, what was I doing again?” into laughter.

Step 2: The Spark

Eventually, something interrupts my noble procrastination—a weird news story, a dumb thing someone said at Starbucks, or a thought like, “Why do we call it a building if it’s already built?” That’s when I grab my phone and jot down a note that will make zero sense later.

Examples from my actual Notes app include:

• “toaster = liar with heat”

• “do raccoons have lawyers?”

• “therapy but make it karaoke”

No context. Just chaos.

Step 3: The Word Vomit

Once I have a spark, I write everything about it—every angle, every rant, every weird thought—until my brain feels empty or my dog looks concerned. Ninety percent of it is garbage. But that last ten percent? That’s gold. That’s the part that makes me go, oh yeah, I can still do this.

Step 4: The Test Flight

Then comes open mics. The lab. The proving ground. I get up there, heart pounding, and deliver the joke to five comics and a bartender who’s heard everything. If they laugh? Great. If they don’t? I pretend I meant for it to bomb because it’s “conceptual.”

Step 5: The Refinement

After a few rounds of “please clap,” I trim the fat, tighten the setup, and find the rhythm. I look for the beats that make the audience lean in before I knock them sideways. That’s when the joke finally feels alive.

And here’s the secret: the process never actually ends. Every show, every crowd, every awkward silence shapes it a little more.

Step 6: The Circle of Procrastination

Once a joke works, I reward myself… by immediately avoiding the next one. Because that’s how the cycle continues. Like a comedian ouroboros—eating my own deadlines and calling it creativity.

So, if you ever wonder how comics come up with their material, the truth is: we don’t find jokes. We stumble into them while procrastinating and just happen to write one down before Netflix auto-plays the next episode.

That’s my process.
Procrastinate. Observe. Repeat. And eventually—laugh.