A Prompt from John Mulaney: How to Come Up with Better Ideas for Content in Less Time
He did it by accident, but John Mulaney just gave us the prompt we need to differentiate our work.
In support of their big comedy festival recently, Netflix released a special interview between David Letterman and Mulaney. They touched on Mulaney’s battle with addiction, becoming a father, the state of standup comedy today, and more. Plus, we visit Mulaney's green room while on tour (apparently he always packs sardines) and the school he attended and hated (only to watch him realize it couldn’t have been all bad, since the adults he disliked were also responsible for the school theater he loved).
I enjoyed the whole special, but the specific moment we need to hear came late in the interview. Letterman confesses he’s been thinking about a specific premise for a joke for years that he just can't seem to develop into a successful bit.
“I’d be driving around my home in Indianapolis,” he says, “and more frequently than one might guess, I would see in the road a single shoe.”
That's the premise.
You’ve probably heard me talk about the power of a premise, maybe once or thrice. Away from our work, we can define a premise as an assertion one makes from which everything else follows. For example, a comedian might say, “Ever notice how babies start crying the second you put your head on your pillow at night?” That’s the premise. The rest of the joke flows from that. The comedian can't then describe a child as being very accommodating to their tired parents. The premise is set. It informs everything that follows.
In our work, we can go beyond defining "a" premise to define an effective premise:
An effective premise is a defensible assertion you make, pulled from your perspective, which informs your choices and your reputation.
I believe we can learn how to develop our premises into successful content by studying how comedians develop their premises into successful jokes.
Back in the interview, Letterman starts chuckling at his apparent flop of a premise, and I thought I knew what Mulaney's reaction would be. I assumed he'd lean back, nodding, before analyzing why the premise failed, but instead, he bursts out laughing.
“Whooaaa!” says Letterman. “Really?!”
“Yeah! It’s funny! Cuz we don’t know what you’re about to say.”
“Well, I never could figure [it] out. I’d say, 'here’s the premise,' thinking [it’s] greatly universal … But nobody other than you seemed to have [seen a single shoe in the road].”
But Mulaney agrees it's a fine premise. It just needs to inform what happens next to develop it into an effective joke. That's been Letterman's challenge, and that's where we see Mulaney's genius on full display. What happens next is a comedian’s equivalent of an action hero walking slowly away from an explosion.
(You know those scenes, right? The hero stares at the villain and grumbles something like, “Hope you brought an umbrella, bub, cuz it’s about to rain justice.” Then they spit out their cigar to ignite a trail of motor oil leading straight at the bad guy and -- KABLAMY -- bad guy go bye-bye.)
(Note to self: action movie less badass if using “KABLAMY” and “go bye-bye.”)
Anyway, Mulaney does the comedian's equivalent of the slow walk from the explosion. He's just that calm and cool as he does a seemingly hard thing. He lays out exactly what Letterman should have done with the premise all these years:
“Well the next question would be, 'Why aren’t there two shoes?' Then there’s, 'How did it get there?' And you could do a whole long bit about, 'What would make a guy throw his shoe out of the car?' And you make some big absurd situation that wouldn’t normally end with somebody throwing a shoe, and then you make this big, kitchen-sink drama with his wife and his kids that ends with him saying, ‘Yanno what, forget it!’ And he takes off his shoe and throws it.”
Immediately and effortlessly, he develops something that Letterman (a legendary comedian in his own right) failed to figure out for years.
Everyone applauds.
In an instant, problem go bye-bye.
* *. *
Stop Brainstorming. Start Investigating.
In just a few lines, a master of his craft gave us the prompt we need to come up with stronger ideas for our work: ask the next obvious question.
Not the questions you think your audience has (I know that's common advice), but the questions YOU have as the person developing the premise and investigating something more deeply than anyone likely thinks is reasonable.
How do I come up with MORE ideas? Ask the next obvious question.
How do I actually USE my premise in my content? Ask the next obvious question.
What do I write this week? What do I post on LinkedIn? What do I say on my show? What do I -- Listen bub, lemme save ya some time. Stop brainstormin'. Start investigatin'. Get yourself a premise, then ask the next obvious question. (pulls on cigar) Now let me drink in peace, pal...
(The answer is yes, I do sometimes wish I was Wolverine.)
Walk with me a moment as we collectively gawk at Mulaney's own heroic moment. Note the progression of the questions:
“Well the next question would be, 'Why aren’t there two shoes?' Then there’s, 'How did it get there?' And you could do a whole long bit about, 'What would make a guy throw his shoe out of the car?' And you make some big absurd situation that wouldn’t normally end with somebody throwing a shoe, and then you make this big, kitchen-sink drama with his wife and his kids that ends with him saying, ‘Yanno what, forget it!’ And he takes off his shoe and throws it.”
He's not trying to manufacture hilarity each step of the way. He's not trying to "generate" ideas or "brainstorm." He's merely asking the next obvious question. In doing so, he reveals a profound truth about this work we do:
Creativity isn’t the manufacturing of brilliance. It’s the pursuit of curiosity.
Want to be more creative? Start with an idea, then interrogate it. Make an assertion -- aka your premise -- then ask lots of simple, obvious next questions about it. Then do it again and again and again.
The premise I’ve pursued for a few years centers on the notion of resonance. I believe you should care more about resonance than reach in order to make what matters to your career, company, and community. That is what I assert.
Resonance over reach. (That’s the shortest summary of my platform’s premise.)
Don't be the best. Be their favorite.
Don't market more. Matter more. When you matter more, you need to hustle for attention less.
I use my premise as any comedian would: to inform what follows. Every idea for content, every choice I make when developing my client service offerings and my speeches and my episodes, and of course, every decision about building the Creator Kitchen membership flows from the premise.
Even topics you might associate with me that don't sound like the word "resonance" are things I have chosen to explore because the next obvious questions led me there. Take storytelling as an example:
1. I think we should care more about resonance than reach in our work. (That's the premise. Then, the questions follow...)
2. Wait, what IS resonance? What IS reach? (Essay defining these terms.)
3. Now that we know the “what,” let’s talk “how.” How can we resonate? (Essay advocating we tell stories more often.)
4. Okay, but storytelling is already widely discussed and also kinda buzzy. If all that knowledge is already out there AND people seem excited by it too, why aren't we better at this already? (Essay about the problem in how we learn storytelling today and why it's not effective.)
5. So what is "effective" storytelling anyway? (Essay)
6. Once we know that and we're ready to develop more effective stories, what's the process? (Essay)
7. Wait, everyone keeps turning to stuff like A.I. instead of processes like mine. Oh! That's because we're too focused on process, period. The simplest one wins, regardless of how good the output seems to be. But wait, isn't there more to mastering the craft of storytelling than knowing a process? (Essay)
(and so on and so forth...)
Everything flows from the premise. Everything starts with the next obvious question. If we assert something, then we have to defend it. If we want to teach something, then we have to share ideas for understanding it. What questions flow from your premise and your previous content? That's the purpose of your next wave of work. It's not about publishing just anything, like whatever you can muster that feels relevant to your work in this moment is fine to fill the feed. No, it's about purposeful IP development.
Take social media for example. We often view it as distribution. That’s fine, but there's something even more powerful happening while you distribute your ideas there: you improve them.
Social media isn't a broadcast studio. It's a small comedy club. It's a place to show up with material, and sure, you hope it works. But just as importantly (if not MORE importantly), you learn what works and what doesn't.
Every next question you ask and every next thing you publish is a chance to further develop your IP and become known for your ideas. Those ideas and that IP supersede every project or offering for your business. In other words, upstream from what you're selling and the content you create is the premise you wish to own and the surrounding material to teach and apply it. That collection of stuff (key terms you define, techniques you suggest, turns of phrases others remember, frameworks and stories, etc.) is what you use to then craft your content and your offers.
I have amassed tons of IP around the "resonance over reach" premise. It took about 2 years to feel ready to sell something high-ticket as a 1:1 consulting engagement. All along the way, I was also earning through sponsors and speaking, then a membership. Eventually, I'll memorialize my resonance IP into a book, the culminating project of a long journey.
I'd ask you: Are you creating content? Or are you creating IP?
Are you sharing expertise about all relevant topics because you need to fill a feed with content? Or are you working to understand something deeper or differently than others in your space, so you can become known for it?
You don't need lightning to strike to come up with the right ideas. If anything, you can bottle that lightning to use it whenever you want, just as Mulaney seemed to do. It starts with a mental switch:
Don't be brilliant. Be curious.
Questions beget questions. Ideas beget ideas.
In my work with clients, after we develop the initial premise, we then talk through the next obvious questions. We can place those questions into various categories. Here are just a few, with some sample, general questions you might use in your work:
Questions about the Problem:
What do people arrive saying they're struggling with or wanting to achieve? What's in the way?
If those are symptoms, what's the underlying illness they can't see that you have diagnosed?
What other symptoms exist? Any we've missed?
(etc)
Questions about Your Premise:
What do you actually mean by [X]?
Can we define those terms starting with previously established understanding? Check the sciences, history, other industries.
Once defined, how do we visualize these concepts so others instantly understand? Maybe we can't yet. Maybe we need to answer questions about the success stories...
(etc)
Questions about Success Stories:
Who is doing this well? Who has solved this? These are your potential signature stories.
When did you first realize this in your own work or life? What happened? This is how you better tell your personal story through the lens of your premise. Forget the list of where you've worked or what you've achieved. Tell this version.
Are there any commonalities across these instances where people do this thing well? Maybe that leads to the visualize framework you can name and own and use to teach everywhere.
(etc)
It's time we reframed this work to see it more clearly. We're not creating content. We're developing IP. We are not an experts. We are investigators.
When you show up publicly next, you have the chance to assign a distinct purpose to that material. You're not just posting to fill the feed. You're not sharing to promote yourself. You're actively exploring a piece of your overall thinking, a single train of thought or, really, line of questioning. (Turns out, doing that is BETTER marketing than any self-promotion.)
You don’t need a clever idea generation or tagging system to effortlessly create more and better things. You don't need to invent a category or pull a random stunt to stand out from the noise. You certainly don't need to shout louder or manufacture brilliance every time out to see results.
Like a badass action hero or comedian at the top of their game, you can operate calmly where others might stress.
Consider your premise, then ask yourself:
“What’s the next obvious question?”
Kablamy.