Confessions Of A Comedy Teacher

Comedian and writer Dave Cohen recently began to teach comedy writing. What made him think he was qualified to do so? What motivated him, apart from the chance to wear a tweed suit with leather patches? And more to the point... is he any good at it?

I've been teaching comedy writing for a couple of years now. The idea came to me in a flash, when we discovered in early 2006 that my wife was pregnant with twins.

I'd been happily working in a comfort zone for a number of years, earning enough to get by, selling the odd sitcom script or panel idea, producing the occasional radio show. I suddenly realised that I needed to fill my spare time more productively than hanging out in cafes kidding myself that I was thinking up ideas for sitcoms and panel shows. Teaching seemed like the perfect stop-gap short term solution.

As with all perfect stop-gap short term solutions, it soon became clear I was going to have to put in far more effort than I had first imagined. I'd performed to audiences for up to an hour and a half on loads of occasions, but I couldn't expect to bluff my way through 16 hours without some graft. And then I thought, what if I'm shit at this? Or worse, what if I'm good at it? Will I be proving the old cliché "those who can, do; those who can't, teach"? and will my career be finished?

It was only after I had been teaching for a while that a more pertinent question arose - can comedy be taught? This must sound like a stupid question from someone who runs classes teaching comedy. And even more ridiculous that I should even think of answering this way, but... no. I'm not sure it can.

Coincidentally while I was preparing for my last weekend course, there was a great thread around this very subject on the BSG forum. It actually turned into a discussion that made me question my motives for teaching. Especially as I found it difficult to argue with the "comedy can't be taught" posts.

My descent into existential angst began innocently enough. I had to find a book to be given away as part of my course. Under a tenner, so that disqualified my obvious choices, books of Seinfeld and Frasier scripts. I'd read my share of 'how to' books but couldn't claim a definitive knowledge, so I sent a mass e-mail to my comedy chums and asked if they could recommend anything. Apart from mentioning two or three of the 'how to' comedy books I hadn't read, almost everyone said they hadn't read any book of value. I realised then, from the 20 or so responses I received, that virtually none of my working writer mates had ever read any books telling them how to do it. And come to think of it, neither had I - I'd only started reading them when I began teaching.

In the end I settled for Rob Long's Set Up, Joke, Set Up, Joke, a perfect snapshot of the typical comedy writer's life. No 'how to write a character' shtick, not the British way, of course, but the direction we're heading, as more and more of our sitcoms turn into team-written shows. And of course, being Rob Long, funny too.

This is not to disparage or dismiss those 'teach yourself' books already out there. When you're struggling with a character, or a scene, or a comic premise, someone else's advice might be just what you need to kick start the process. But the crucial fact is this - in the majority of cases, you've already worked out that you write and think in a way that makes people laugh.

In all my publicity, and in all my course notes, I stress this point time and again. I tell people the first thing you need to be a comedy writer is an ability to write jokes. I make it very clear at the start of every class. And yet I still get the occasional complaint in the feedback along the lines of 'he didn't teach me how to be funny.' I also stress that I concentrate on teaching 'how to make a living', and that writing a movie at this stage in your career is unlikely to do that for you. During one particular weekend from hell, class about 60 per cent made up of wannabe screenwriters, as I talked them through the process of writing a sketch for the radio (still the quickest and most efficient way in for the vast majority of writers) I could see the looks on their faces, 'this is all very well, but what use will it be for my blockbuster alien animation rom-com?'

So what do I teach? I go for a mixture of practical and technical. I'm sure I talk too much, but I try and cram as much of the knowledge stuff into the course notes that you get at the end of the weekend - you can only learn so much from one bloke speaking at you for hours. I try and get down to the practical exercises of sketch and sitcom work as much as time allows. Getting small groups to write a sketch in 20 minutes is a good example of a situation you often find yourself in when starting out - being forced to produce a piece of work with someone you only know vaguely, being able to know when to push your own ideas and when to let others speak, making sure you have jokes and a punchline, and most important, working to a deadline.

Over the weekend I try and answer as many questions as the students can throw at me. In 25 years as a writer and performer I've made so many mistakes, and so I hope I'm also offering people the chance to avoid the ones I managed. I also try and grapple with the contradiction at the heart of our work - our personalities. Without generalising too much we tend to be shy loners who struggle to fit in, observers on the sidelines - but to succeed we have to push ourselves forward, let people know we're out there and ready to work - in other words, do all the things we hate.

I suppose though, what I'm trying to do throughout the weekend is to instil an attitude. I try and get students to think of themselves as professional writers - to be in the heads of professional writers and make their choices about how to get in accordingly. About ten years ago, when I'd stopped doing stand-up and hadn't quite worked out what I was going to do for the rest of my life, I went on a Raindance weekend course hosted by Dov Siemens called something like 'Write The Movie, Sell the Movie'. It seemed like a lot of money at the time, but it was one of the most inspiring weekends of my life. I still haven't written the movie, or sold it, for that matter, but I'd like to feel I'm trying to offer a sense of that 'can do' attitude towards what are, if we're honest, slightly more realistic dreams than making and selling the movie.

Happily, it seems that I'm not too bad at this teaching lark, and so far, that hasn't meant that I've become a rubbish writer. It's amazing how easily one forgets the basics, or at least shoves them to one side, when working day to day at the comedy coal face. I come back from a weekend of teaching comedy, and find the writing I do that week is about a million times better than wot I managed the week before.

It's also helped me to focus on my own goals. As I blah blahed on one more time during a course about adopting a professional attitude, I had my own 'du'h' moment and worked out how I should pitch my latest sitcom idea. So I hope you can make it along some time. But no matter if you can't - I'll be there anyway, doing it for me.