what a writers room is like

oOooooH BEHIND THE SCENES

A few people recently have asked me what being in a comedy writers room is like, so I thought I’d pull back the curtain and reveal some juicy hot details considering I’m an absolute veteran (I’ve done it thrice) (well technically seven times, but five of those are for the same show). Be prepared to faint, throw up and fall backwards off whatever it is your sitting on (I presume a chair).

They all feature Nature Valley Crunch Bars

Always the oats and honey one, I’ve never seen maple syrup flavour which is a shame because that’s the best. Totally unsuitable for a writers room of course, because the moment you open them everybody within ten metres is engulfed in a thick layer of crumb dust as though a ceiling has collapsed. Other ubiquitous snacks: tangerines, grapes and those Graze oat squares that are tiny but contain so much sugar you become medicinally high for twenty minutes before experiencing a crash so profound it feels like you’ve died.

You spend a lot of time in your own head, beating yourself up

Someone once told me to say something early on just so everyone has heard your voice, but I find it useful because the first time I speak after hours of silence, moths fly out of my throat and I bark like a dog. It doesn’t have to be anything funny, you could just say ‘god that’s so funny’ about someone else’s idea. Or if someone asks if there’s any maple syrup flavoured Nature Valley Bars you can go ‘ooh is there something in that??’ in an ironic way. Basically anything to clear the moths out.

Coffee/tea is a minefield

OK here’s what happens. A runner will offer you coffee and/ or tea and, unless you’re very famous, you need to follow the energy of the other orders because this dictates whether the runner is going to get it from a cafe or from a coffee machine in the office. Before I knew the Follow The Energy Of The Other Orders rule, after everyone had ordered teas, I asked for an almond milk matcha latte and then everyone’s tea took ages because the runner had to go and find a Pret. Nobody said they hated me, but they definitely hated me. You’d think simply asking ‘are you going to a cafe, or is this from a coffee machine’ would be the best course of action, but then they’re all ‘We can go out if you like….?’ and you’re all ‘No, no just a normal coffee from the machine’ and they’re like ‘Are you SURE??’ and someone will merrily shout ‘You can see she’s desperate for the fancy coffee’ and basically unless you’re really bedded into the room and know everyone there, just order a tea. I suppose that’s what I mean.

You hear yourself saying odd phrases

For me it’s ‘oh niiiiiiiice’. This isn’t something I ever say in normal life, but the pressure and performance of being in a writers room just forces weird stuff out. Other things I’ve found myself saying because I’m being performative: ‘hit me with a green tea’, ‘oh absolutely, absolutely’ and at one point I said ‘that really chimes with me’ like I was a collection of bells.

People are, on the whole, kinder than expected

Nobody ever said ‘that idea is shit’, but instead try to build it out more, or come up with a new angle to make it better. The one I’m doing at the moment is exceptionally kind - everyone laughs and nods and makes encouraging sounds. This makes sense because very few people can be creatively funny when scared of speaking, which feels like an obvious point but apparently lots of American writers rooms are like bear pits except the bears are very competitively writing jokes for television. I don’t think I could handle that.

You don’t have to ask to go to the toilet

The first time I was in a writers room I put my hand up and said I needed the loo, like I was in school. I also put my hand up every time I wanted to speak until a producer gently told me both of these things were unnecessary.

Sometimes you will not be good and yes that feels awful

I’m usually quite comfortable in writers rooms because I love bouncing off other people. And then writing jokes in a collaborative way (just a little joke implying I like to literally bounce off people hahahhahaha did you get it hahahahahahahahahahah sorry it’s been a long day). But last week I’d come straight off the set of an incredibly intense job that had finished very late the night before, plus my period had started with such intensity I felt like my entire lower body was being shot out of a cannon, so consequently my brain was mush. I kept thinking ‘what about a man who can’t cheers’ over and over again. I couldn’t think of anything else for the entire session, and didn’t even say it because I was too tired and periody to judge whether it was an okay idea or not. Now I’m feeling better, I think ‘not’ (but don’t steal it because I might be forced to pitch it next week out of sheer desperation). What I’m trying to say is: it’s horrible when you’re not on form, because you’re being paid to be on form. And the less you speak, the more you become convinced that everyone is wondering why you’re there. The only way to get out of this mindset is to go to the toilet and give yourself a pep talk in the mirror' - I did this last week, but the writers room was directly below the toilet so I could hear everyone laughing away at everyone else’s great ideas and when I tried to talk to myself I had bits of grape flesh in my fucking teeth which made everything feel a lot worse.

Your face hurts

From laughing and also fake laughing and also smiling and also fake smiling. The fake stuff is because you want to be encouraging and for people to think ‘God Stevie’s a good laugh, and what a nice person’, so you never want anyone to catch you looking bored (which is my resting expression). This means after about three hours my jaw hurts, and after four hours I get a headache and have to take paracetomol. Sometimes it’s not from fake laughing, but because you’re actually laughing so much. One writers room session was so funny that I felt lightheaded and my vision started to go weird, almost as though I was being asphyxiated. I laughed so much I’d strangled myself with laughter. Interestingly, this was the only writers room where the show didn’t end up getting made - make of that what you will.

What a juicy and enthralling behind-the-scenes snapshot from me there. I hope extracts of this post don’t get published in heat magazine!!!!!!! Wow. Anyway hopefully the show I’m currently writing on (which is a nice writers room experience) will get announced soon because it’s a childhood dream of mine to work on something like this, so if it gets pulled I will shoot my entire body out of a cannon. Also, and more crucially, I haven’t mentioned piss once which is a first for me and a first for this substack so I’m very impressed with myself.

Pisspisspisspisspisspisspisspisspisspiss (sorry if this is the first post you’re reading because that will have made no sense. I suggest you go back and read literally any other post of mine to see what I mean) (piss).