Sarah Silverman explains her writing process
"There’s all this chemistry. You get beakers of jokes and you’re adding and taking away and stuff until you figure out what works best."
In this Q&A, Sarah Silverman explains her writing process:
Like, I don’t know if you made an actual note about the dementia joke that day we talked, but —
But the funny thing is, a lot of the time — like, when I was talking to you and I told you my biggest fear is getting dementia and then masturbating in public — it takes someone like you to go, “Is that in your act?” A lot of the time, it takes that, for me to go, Oh! Yeah! You know? Because otherwise, so much goes in and out (without me thinking it could work in my set).
Q. So how often does that happen, where someone says that to you? Probably a lot, right?
Well, it’s usually my boyfriend, or a sister, or something. But part of being a good comic that’s prolific is noticing those things — and I don’t. (Laughing.) I don’t. I’m just an empty vessel that just spews stuff. And then hopefully somebody goes, “Hey, you should put that (in your show)!” But my boyfriend does comedy, too, and a lot of times he says stuff that I try to remember. I go, That’s a bit. That’s a bit, that’s a bit.
Q. And when that happens, do you write it down? Or do you try to store it mentally?
No, I have to write it down. Multiple places. I have no memory. None. I can’t remember why I walked into the kitchen anymore. I have to write everything down. And everything is, like, alarms all day: Give the dog the pill; get ready for this; start thinking about this. Yeah, I live off of alarms and notes and reminders everywhere. It’s like “Memento.” I could, like, tattoo reminders on my body.
Q. Along the same lines, are you a Jerry Seinfeld type, where every word is important, or are you more someone who outlines your set and then just kinda goes with it?
I’m never tied to a script at all. It’s not written like a monologue. And there’s all the things I learn from the audience — you know, the same joke can bomb or kill, depending on (all kinds of factors). Like, you realize, Oh, I need to have a pause here, or, I need a tiny word here, or, They need a little more information, or, They need so much less information, or, That setup is too heavy for the lightness of the punchline. There’s all this chemistry. You get beakers of jokes and you’re adding and taking away and stuff until you figure out what works best. And you’ll never get the perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect (version). But I’m a really meticulous, sloooww honer. That’s why I can’t watch my specials once they’re done. Because it’s too frustrating. Because I could keep honing any of those acts — any of those shows — forever. At a certain point you gotta put it on tape, or digital, or whatever it’s called. You gotta record it, and then kiss it goodbye, ’cause I can’t fit it all in my head.