What comedy shows go down best at the annual Edinburgh Fringe?
Well, serious self-analysis always goes down well with the Awards judges.
My last blog here was about a conversation I had with a chum at St Pancras station in London.
I also started pontificating to her about how to write a one-hour comedy show for the Edinburgh Fringe. I think she glazed over internally but disguised it well. After all, she is a performer.
I am not a performer. So what do I know?
Ignore what follows if you have better ideas.
And, like all generalities, there are exceptions.
But – hey! – this is my blog and, just for the helluvit, this is what I think…
Go write your own blog if you disagree.
The only near-certainty if you follow any advice of mine or any advice of any kind or no advice of any kind is that you will probably lose money at the Fringe…
Expanding a good 20-minute stage act where you meander from one anecdote to another via cleverly obscuring the fact that none of the bits really fit together but you have ‘seamlessly’ Sellotaped over the gaps with clever links… That doesn’t work in a 55-ish minute show at the Edinburgh Fringe (or anywhere else).
You have to write a single unitary show.
BIT OF ADVICE 1
I think all Edinburgh shows need a single relentless theme and 100% should be about that one single theme with a single developing narrative strand.
People talk about the ‘dead dad’ story you should drop in about 35-40 minutes into the duration of a 55-ish minute show.
The theory of the Dead Dad is that a show can have wonderfully funny stories but, after about 30-35 mins, the audience settles into the rhythm of the performance and they still laugh but ‘sameness’ fatigue sets in, even though they’re still laughing.
An unexpected shock at around 35/40 minutes into a 55 min narrative show pulls the carpet from under the audience’s expectations and shocks them into being 100% attentive again. If you can suddenly mention that your dad died last week, that should do it. But anything unexpected and different.
They are shocked – when it’s successful – into total silence. Of course, in a comedy show, you then have to be a good enough performer to get them back in the last 10 minutes to finish with a climactic laughter fest/orgasm. Then they go out happy and smiling having been on the thrill of a rollercoaster.
BIT OF ADVICE 2
Write an elevator pitch for your own show. For your eyes only. Eight words saying what your show is specifically about. Not generally. No generality. One specific subject.
Anything that doesn’t fit that succinct 8-word description, chuck it out.
It doesn’t matter how clever or funny it is. If it doesn’t fit the description, chuck it out. You can use it in a future show but NOT this show. However funny, however clever, however well-written it is… if it doesn’t fit into your 8-word description of your own show’s specific subject, it will interrupt the flow of the single narrative thread and it will be a distraction to the audience’s attention/involvement in your narrative.
A good show is a good show because of what you DO NOT include.
There used to be an ad on television, the selling line of which was:
“It’s the fish John West reject that make John West the best”
Follow the fish principle!
But without the smell.
A good show is a good show because of what you DO NOT include, even more than what you include.
BIT OF ADVICE 3
Ask yourself why you alone can do this specific show and no-one else can.
If you can do a show on a general subject, then so can I – so can anyone else.
If you can’t be original, at least be personal.
Why can you alone do this specific show and no-one else can?
Make it personal.
No-one reads autobiographies for facts.
They want to be voyeurs on another person’s life. Either because they think: That’s just like me. Or they want to experience something they have never and will never experience.
People want to hear about people not ideas.
Or they want to hear about ideas via a narrative involving people whose lives and minds they can become involved with.
No-one except an academic reads books or watches movies or watches comedy shows for abstract facts. That ain’t a show, it’s a lecture. Go perform at Speaker’s Corner in London, not on a comedy stage in Edinburgh.
If you talk about facts illustrated by specific human stories – ideally your own – people will be interested.
Pretty much the same events happen to everyone. But how the events interact with a specific person is unique.
Ordinary people read books/watch shows for emotional and psychological voyeurism. They want to identify with other people.
BIT OF ADVICE 4
This goes back to concentrating the audience’s minds with a single narrative plot.
The ‘one’ plot is allegedly… A hero (or heroine) sets out on a quest to find something. Things happen along the way. The hero (or heroine) finds the thing (good or bad) – it may be a truth or a revelation.
It is a search for a specific Holy Grail.
In the case of a one hour Fringe show, everything along the way has to progress the journey. No jolly side anecdotes unrelated to the quest. Everything must be relevant to your 8-word definition of the quest.
The Grail – the climax of the show – is a single specific thing.
When you start writing the show, you have to know what the very end is. Otherwise you will inevitably waffle.
What is the last paragraph, the last sentence of the show?
Anyone can do a show about the quest for an idea.
What is the specific show only you can write and perform about that quest that I or 2,000 other people cannot do?
One single strand.
Keep on the bloody subject!
And now all you have to do is make it funny!!!!!!