How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Rewrite
Day 8 of The 10 Day Humor Writing Challenge: The second draft
Welcome to Day 8 of the 10 Day Humor Writing Challenge.
We’re in the home stretch.
If you’re catching up, you can find all Challenge posts here.
To recap, if you’ve been doing this Challenge, here’s what you should have so far.
A vetted headline premise for your humor piece—see Day 1 post
A list of 10-15 jokes + joke feedback—see Day 1 and Day 3 posts
A rough draft + feedback—See Day 5 post
Today is all about rewriting your first draft into a tighter, funnier second draft.
How do you do that? Which edits should you target?
Well, the feedback that you (hopefully) got over the weekend should tell you a lot.
I said in Friday’s post that, at the risk of oversimplifying, feedback boils down to this: “What’s funny here that I should keep, or do more of?” and “What’s not funny here? What should I cut?”
You almost always need to revise and rework your humor draft, sometimes multiple times.
It’s rare that a first draft gets it right.
In my deep dive The 21 Most Common Humor Writing Mistakes, I said the main revisions in a humor draft 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
And I should probably add:
Doing more of what’s already working, or escalating it even harder.
You can also refer to my slightly longer checklist in my post How to Self-Critique and Self-Edit Your Humor Writing.
Those are some common types of rewriting in humor pieces. How much revising should you do? However much the piece needs.
I’ll add one more tip: If you got a lukewarm reaction to your first draft, or if you got some tough feedback indicating that your draft was very muddled, or the premise just wasn’t coming through or escalating, then don’t be afraid of major changes. Don’t fear a big overhaul.
Obviously, it feels good to know “okay, I’m on track, and I just need to tighten this up and make it 10% funnier. Then I can publish it.”
But that’s not always the case. Willingness to gut the draft and make a major overhaul is one thing that separates amateurs from non-amateurs.
Step 1: Reflect on your rough draft feedback
I like to read all the draft feedback and summarize it in a few bullet points, below my draft. Those “notes to self” could look something like this:
Lean more into the “creepy vampire voice.” Parts where the narrator sounds like a vampire are funnier.
The whole angle about blood donation not working. Cut all of it.
Ending (last graf) not working. Play around with new options.
Address all inlines on joke rewrites.
A little summary like that is a nice way of setting clear priorities for the rewrite.
But the important thing is that you think about all the feedback and ask yourself what it means for the re-write: What’s the best way to address the feedback to make the second draft funnier?
Step 2: Rewrite until you have a second draft
Not a ton more to add here.
One tip: You can balance “clown mode” and “editor mode.”
When you’re punching up jokes or finding bits that need more escalation, go more clown: non-judgmental, fun seeking, ridiculous.
When you’re trimming, tightening, and rewriting for pacing or clarity, go more editor mode: be discerning and a bit of a hard-ass.
It’s a balance!
Step 3: Get feedback on the second draft
If possible, you can get feedback again from at least 1-2 of the same people who read the first draft. But any feedback is usually good feedback.
If you’re posting in the comments section for feedback (and I hope you do!), post as follows:
Your headline
A request for feedback on the full draft, and (optionally) a link to a google doc of the full draft, with comment access enabled.
Your latest, revised draft intro (100-250 words max please)
As before: If you’re reading the comments and see a headline/intro that looks interesting (or that just looks like it needs help!), please reply and offer to trade 1-1 feedback.
The two of you can coordinate that however you want: right there in the comment replies, using Substack direct messages, or by email.
I strongly recommend you do the feedback on a Google doc with inline comments enabled. An overall holistic comment can happen via Substack DM, email, or in the comments section itself.
The more generous you are with feedback, the more comments you’ll get on your draft. So be sure to volunteer feedback to at least 2-3 people.
You have from now until Wednesday to finish your second draft. Enjoy!
Thank you again for the comments and insights on my piece. I've been kicking this one around for some time. I set it aside for nearly a year while I focused on other things.
Until this challenge, I've been flying solo. This is the first time I've shared my work at this stage with anyone other than my many split personalities.
With the feedback I've received In the past week, I have shaved months and months getting this into a state where I feel good about submitting to someone. This has been a great experience. Just sayin.
Have at it.
How to Thrive Today While You Wait for Meditation to Kick In
Meditation can reduce stress and make you happier and more fulfilled. It takes a while, though. Until your late 90s, in fact, assuming you practice daily. During your next life is more realistic. On second thought, plan on the one after.
With timelines like these, it’s no great leap to conclude that you won't experience any of meditation's advantages until after your new life as a naked mole-rat is well underway. Disquieting news, no doubt, given that current life of yours. We’ve seen your feeds. Who hasn’t?
Fear not. Focus each day on these carefully curated coping strategies to achieve contentment in the here and now, because meditation is timeless, and not in the good way.
Cultivate cluelessness. When they ask, “How can we be out of Scotch tape?” answer, “It’s impossible to say.” Same goes for missing pickleball paddles, favorite hair scrunchies and what your husband got his mother last Christmas. End the drudgery of having to feign ignorance the way you once did because you will have stopped following along for real.
Rediscover the joys of mumbling. Responding to people who irritate you with things they can’t quite make out is as rewarding today as it was back in high school. Be just unintelligible enough to stupefy when your supervisor suggests that you “up your game” and your twitchy neighbor with the problematic eyebrows wishes all of your houseplants an early death when the postal carrier delivers two pieces of your junk mail just once to their place by mistake.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DmsSlkYWvIrnBLtYiZ_kB_ZEm84WuVp3QxpIhrhFAa8/edit?tab=t.0
Ripped Van Winkle Wakes Up to the Impossibility of Pre-Rolls and the Vulgarity of Passing a Half-Eaten Gummy
They once nicknamed me “Ripped” Van Winkle. That’s because in the seventies I was always stoned. My real name is Ralph Winkleman, and I stopped smoking pot 50 years ago. That is, until recently when I discovered the attraction of getting high legally. But I’ve also found that things have changed. The counterculture is pretty much kaput.
I can't understand the new marketing terms. I get it that a cannabis dispensary can deliver--so did my dealer in the Day, even if he was habitually late. But I can't wrap my head around something these shops stock called a "pre-roll."
I’m pretty sure we used to call these things marijuana cigarettes or, more often, loose joints. But to me, a pre-roll is an existential impossibility. Something is either rolled—or it’s not. But a pre-roll?
I don’t get it. You have your herb. It’s been cleaned of stems and seeds. Someone has hand-rolled a cig, licked the paper and pressed it together to form a joint. You light it up. Simple, right?
But a pre-roll? Give me a break!
I mean, based on that logic, what would you call it once it’s been consumed? An after-roll?! Something you’d share at an after party? No way! There’s no such thing as an after-roll. That’s what they call ash! What you deposit in an ashtray!
Maybe it’s more legitimate to stop calling them pre-rolls and describe them as what they really are: pre-smokes! That makes more sense, since we can see that the pot is inside its delivery system and is ready to be put in your mouth.
Got a light?
The other thing I hate about pre-rolls is that they remind me of repressive drug laws from a time when you could be arrested. A pre-roll sounds like a thought crime or a pre-crime. In the seventies, when Yippies and Hippies tried to roam free, the authorities assumed young adults with long hair were up to no good. They’d even bust us for possessing a booklet of rolling papers. After all, the construction paper for rolling a joint was evidence of a pre-crime. In some municipalities with strict anti-paraphernalia laws, perps could be fined for possessing a little pot BUT jailed for the papers. Being charged with pre-rolling was nasty stuff. It gives me nightmares still.
Damn! Can you imagine what it was like being busted for papers you never got a chance to use? We were so close to getting high. The seventies sucked, man.
Yet in the twenties—I'm talking the 2020s not the Roaring Twenties—cannabis culture is plain confusing. Take this cornucopia of edibles every dispensary is pushing. You know, fruit gummies, scored chocolate bars, carbonated beverages. It’s not that we didn't eat cannabis back in the Day. You know how hard we worked cleaning our pot, discarding the stems and planting the seeds, grinding the shake into a powder, sauteing it in pan, stirring it into a Duncan Hines cake mix. Baking the brownies took another 30 minutes in an oven preheated to 350 degrees. We knew the brownies were finally ready when the kitchen reeked of pot. That was a stench for the ages! You'd open the windows for days to air the place out. Of course, back then we had something you kids don't have today—the twin luxuries of time and patience. Now, it's all about convenience. Touch your screen—the one on your phone, not the one in the pipe bowl, place your order, pick it up or have it delivered. Then, you can just pop a gummy in your mouth like a Ritalin—pharmaceuticals with flavor!
I'd hate to own a head shop today. I mean, when all that a pothead needs to do is chew and swallow, who needs pipes, papers, bongs, screens, lighters, ashtrays, roach clips, pipe cleaners, brushes, incense, air deodorizers? Society hardly needs anti-paraphernalia laws when the easy way to get high requires no paraphernalia at all!
And what about the counterculture's belief in sharing? Sharing your stash, passing the joint, holding the hands of those you toke with making sure that everyone is developing a good vibe together? None of that exists anymore. People get high in private. They hide a gummy in their pocket and pop it when nobody’s looking. Even if they're going out, they chew and swallow surreptitiously. No mess. No fuss. No proof.
I’ve been to parties recently, but no one is passing a joint. Maybe it’s a post-Covid thing. I mean, suppose everyone is doing edibles instead. Frankly, I’m not sure how to act. What am I supposed to do, take a bite out of a cannabis-infused sour gummy, then pass the remainder to the woman to my left? I can assure you she's going to have one of two reactions. Either she'll get angry that I'm taking too long and yell "Don't Bogart that gummy,"—or more likely, she'll take one look at the half-eaten goop in my hand and turn away in disgust screaming “Gross!” I mean, wouldn't you? Who puts something in their mouth, then spits it out only to hand it to someone else?
Another thing that's plenty disorienting are the nutritional panels on the edible packaging, They list the serving size. The number of calories. How much sodium. Carbs. Sugar. All the ingredients. Who knew you could get high on tapioca syrup and pectin? Back in the Day, your dealer handed you a baggie. It was transparent. You looked at the color. You unsealed it and took a whiff. If you liked what you saw and smelled, you'd pay your monies. Cash on the table. No tap-and-pay plastic No Apple Pay.
The only reason to use your phone was to call your dealer that you needed more smoke, man. Then, he’d give you the bad news that he was totally out of weed. Can you imagine these legal marijuana retailers being out of product today? They’ve got such a glut of inventory that you feel like a kid in a candy shop. Bad analogy. The law says adult use only. But you know what I mean.
Anyway, the top drawer of my dresser is bulging with so many ways to get high that I may have to take another break. Probably won’t be 50 years this time. The actuary tables are against me on that. No, I expect to finish up my golden years the same way I started out as a young adult. High as a kite and never sure which way the wind is blowing. The twenties suck, man.