I love talking about feedback.

Painful sentence.

Horrible hobby.

But I do.

I think feedback is a very interesting topic because sometimes one note can change how I think about writing completely.

That happened to me with an animated script.

It was the second pilot I ever wrote.

The first pilot I wrote was very well received, which I don’t think was good for me.

Because the second script I wrote?

Everyone hated it.

That really messed with me.

I got all this self-doubt.

Was the first one beginner’s luck?

Do I actually have what it takes?

All those very fun, relaxing, emotionally stable thoughts every writer loves having while staring at a document like it personally betrayed them.

One of the especially harsh pieces of feedback I got was that the script just wasn’t funny enough.

That one hurt.

Because I write comedy.

I want to make adult animation.

And if the animated comedy script is not funny enough, that is a pretty annoying problem to have.

Lovely.

The Note That Hurt The Most

I remember this person telling me very specifically that I had to step up my game if I ever wanted to compete with shows like The Simpsons and Family Guy and the humor in there.

Ouch.

I think what made it hit so hard was that I thought I already had that part nailed down.

For the longest time, I had been avoiding learning specifically how to make my scripts funnier.

Because my first script was so well received, I think part of me thought:

Okay, good.

Funny handled.

Comedy solved.

Someone alert the scientists.

Then the second script came along and very politely punched that belief in the face.

That feedback reminded me of the saying:

The magic lies in the work that you’re avoiding.

And I think that was exactly what happened.

I was avoiding the actual work of learning how to make my scripts funnier because I had convinced myself that I already knew how.

I did not.

Very rude discovery.

Getting Back To The Drawing Board

After that feedback, I knew I had to get back to the drawing board.

That was the annoying answer.

Not a dramatic identity crisis.

Not disappearing into a cave forever.

Not deciding I was secretly a fraud because one animated pilot did not work.

Even though, to be clear, the brain did try all of those options first.

The useful version was much simpler:

Okay.

I don’t actually know how to write something funny.

But that’s okay because I believe I can learn it.

That sentence helped me.

Because the moment I looked at it that way, the problem became less mysterious.

The feedback was still painful.

The script still did not work the way I wanted.

But instead of turning it into proof that I had no talent, I could look at it as a specific part of writing I had not trained enough yet.

That shaped how I viewed learning how to write.

Especially comedy writing.

Especially adult animation writing, where the jokes, characters, conflict, and story all have to work together.

No pressure.

Very casual little nightmare.

Writing Is A Million Skills In One

The thing I realized at that point is that writing is a very interesting discipline.

People view it as one skill.

I do not think it works that way.

At least that is not how it has felt to me.

Writing feels like a million different skills inside one.

There is the idea.

There is the story.

There are the characters.

There is the structure.

There is dialogue.

There is theme.

There is rewriting.

And then there is making the thing funny enough.

That last one was the part I had been avoiding.

So when I got the note that the script was not funny enough, the useful question became:

Which part of writing am I actually being told to work on?

That question feels much more practical to me than:

Am I good or bad?

That’s a terrible question.

It is vague.

It makes me want to lie down on the floor and become a rug.

But “which skill needs work?” gives me something to actually look at.

In this case, the skill was comedy.

More specifically, making the script funnier.

Useful.

Where I Started Looking For Funny

For whatever reason, my ideas often start with location.

A city made of toys.

Ancient Egypt.

A hotel on the moon.

Then I think about which characters would have conflict with that setting.

And once I have an idea for the characters, I ask who would give the main character the hardest time.

Again, for me, it is all about conflict.

What would be a good opposite of this character?

If I have a capitalist duck who wants to be really rich, maybe he has a socialist daughter who thinks capitalism is evil and that people should give more to the poor instead of hoarding everything for themselves.

Very simple version.

But that is the beginning of how I start creating characters.

I look at how they could butt heads against each other.

Because I think a lot of comedy stems from conflict and drama.

I love the John Apatow idea that when writing comedy, I should write a drama that is funny.

That makes sense to me.

I do not want to just throw jokes on top of nothing.

I want the situation, the characters, and the conflict to create the pressure where comedy can happen.

At least that is what I am trying to get better at.

The Practical Lesson I Took From It

So if I get the note that a comedy script is not funny enough, this is the process I try to remember.

First, I separate the feedback from the identity spiral.

The note might be:

The script is not funny enough.

The spiral says:

I am not funny.

I got lucky.

I do not have what it takes.

Those are not helpful places for me to live.

Dramatic? Yes.

Productive? Unfortunately no.

Second, I try to find the work I have been avoiding.

For me, that was learning specifically how to make my scripts funnier.

Third, I try to break writing into smaller skills.

If I treat writing as one giant magical talent, I have no idea what to fix.

If I treat it as a bunch of smaller skills, I can at least pick one.

This gives me somewhere to start.

And that is what I needed after the feedback.

The harsh note did not feel good.

But that one made me realize I had been avoiding a part of the work.

I thought I already knew how to make a script funny.

I did not.

So I went back to the drawing board.

Oh, and speaking of feedback!

I made a deal with people on YouTube!

If we reach 500 subscribers by the end of 2026, I will pick three people in the comments, read their scripts, and give them feedback.

Uh… For FREE!

So go subscribe: https://www.youtube.com/@PatrickWill

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