Why Plotting Sitcoms is Murder

And how murder mysteries are like sitcoms. And how they are not.

Last time, I extolled the need for simplicity in plotting sitcoms.

Here’s another reason why plotting sitcom can become unnecessarily hard:

Are you’re trying to impress the audience with a clever ending?

I get it. You’re trying to thinking of a twist. Who doesn’t love a twist? Isn’t that just good storytelling? What’s the surprise? How can we turn the whole thing on its head? And then back on its feet again? And then we pull a rabbit out of the hat! Which turns out not to be a rabbit. It’s a dove! Made of playing cards! I can’t get Bingpics to show that, but you’re welcome to try.

You get the idea. Keep it simple. No-one’s watching your sitcom for the plot.

The Point of the Plot

In a sitcom, the plot is not there to wow the audience like it’s a magic trick. Or an M Night Shyamalan movie. The plot is not even there to surprise the audience. Not in a sitcom.

In a sitcom, your plot is there to give your characters things to do, quests to attempt and tricky situations to navigate. You don’t need to be clever. Just funny.

Funny is already hard enough. And remember:

If the audience is confused, it’s not laughing.

Keep it simple. Simple is funny.

Murder Mystery Mania

Maybe you’ve been watching too many murder-mysteries. I watch loads. But even murder-mysteries don’t have big surprises at the end. Not really.

The suspects are clearly established. We know it’s going to be the one we least suspect, or someone we’ve seen before. We are assuming we have been misdirected.

In reality, any one of the characters could have done it. They have all motive. And there are only about three or four motives anyway when it comes down to it. So whodunnit? Eeny, meeny, miney,.. it’s Uncle Mo.

But it could have been the butler.

Or the sister. Whatevs.

We’re there for the ride. The characters. The sleuth. The world. Not the mystery, the plot or the ending.

It doesn’t matter who killed Roger Ackroyd

Once in a blue moon, the murderer comes completely out of nowhere and it’s a huge clever wonderful surprise. Agatha Christie famously did this in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. But I say ‘famously’ because this kind of clever ending is extremely rare. In an Agatha Christie novel, the murderer is some respectable but passive-aggressive middle-class person who had to poison the old man or there would be a great disgrace. That’s what we’re there for. The Christie world.

In a murder mystery, the reveal must be logical, plausible and satisfying. It might even be ingenious. But it’s the cherry on the cake. The cake is the sleuth and the regular characters and ‘the world’. In my case, it’s author Rick Castle and NYPD Detective Kate Beckett (I’ve just watched all eight seasons of Castle on Disney+), and I really love Esposito, Ryan and… Martha and Alexis are great too and, oh here they all are:

Last year, I worked on Death in Paradise which always has an interesting locked room murder which the enormous global audience really enjoys. But if you ask a viewer why they’re watching they’re watching, they normally say they mostly there for the scenery, the world and the characters. The puzzle of the plot is nice to have.

Back to Sitcom

In the same way, people are watching a sitcom because they like the world and the characters. They like the funnies. All the episodes are basically the same.

A sitcom isn’t a seven-course tasting menu. It’s a Happy Meal. It’s a steak and chips. It’s Chicken Chow Mein. It’s ice-cream eaten in pajamas. You know what you’re getting. It makes you feel good. And you like it.

Coca-Cola changed their formula in 1985. They tested it and tested it and tested and were convinced the new flavour was better.

But no-one wanted the new flavour. Did it taste worse? Probably not. It tasted different. We don’t want different. We want the Coca-Cola I grew up with. Give us back our coke.

Don’t think of your sitcom as a fine wine with complex flavours with subtle notes and a strong finish. It’s Dr Pepper. It’s Starbucks coffee.

In a sitcom, you’ve less than half an hour. Keep it simple.

Then you’ve got a chance of it being funny.

Even more on plotting next time.

But if you can’t wait, and want more advice right now, why not get my epic webinar called Writing your Sitcom without Losing the Plot. It lasts over 90 minutes and is crammed with not annoying, very practical advice. The replay is yours, along with notes, for a small contribution. It’s over here. Chip in. And jump in.