There is this moment after posting a video when you are just… waiting. You have spent all your time contemplating the idea, filming it, and then editing it so it is perfect, and now it is out there. The views start adding up, but what I have learned to care about even more than views are the comments. Buried in those “LOL”s, “this is me,” and “send this to my group chat immediately,” are the little gold nuggets that shape my next video: viewer suggestions.
Early on, I treated the comments section like a high-five line. Thank people, drop some emojis, and keep it moving. But over time, I started noticing patterns. People were not just reacting—they were pitching ideas. “What if the waiter was also her ex?” “Now do one where he tries to get out of jury duty!” “Part 3, but he’s at a funeral.” At first, I brushed them off like one-off jokes. But one day, out of pure curiosity (and, let’s be honest, mild creative burnout), I made one. And it worked.
The video gained some traction, not just in views but in engagement. People were excited. The person who suggested commented something like “OMG I feel famous,” and others jumped in, asking to see their ideas come to life too. That is when I realized: turning viewer suggestions into skits was not just a fun gimmick. It was a creative loop that made my content stronger.
There is something powerful about involving your audience in the process. When someone sees a sketch idea they help spark, they feel seen. They feel like part of your comedy universe. And when they feel that they stick around. They comment more. Share more. Suddenly, your content is not just “for” them; it is with them.
Now, not every suggestion is a winner. Some are so oddly specific or bizarrely dark that I’m like, “Bro, are you okay?” But that’s part of the fun. I scroll through comments, looking for anything that sparks something. It does not have to be a fully formed idea, sometimes, it is just a single sentence that leads me down a rabbit hole. Other times, it is the same prompt repeated by a dozen people, practically begging for a version of the skit where “he meets her parents” or “the boss finally finds out.”
Once I pick a suggestion, I treat it like a writing prompt. I ask myself, “How would my character react in this situation?” or “What’s the dumbest possible version of this scenario?” I will sketch it out, improv a few lines, and just roll with it. Some of my best skits have come from this method. Ideas I would never have thought of myself.
The cool thing is this process does not just boost engagement; it makes writing easier. There is something freeing about having a box to work within. When someone gives you the bones of an idea, it takes the pressure off. You are no longer trying to conjure something from thin air. You are building on something that already has a spark.
And here is the bonus: viewer-suggested skits often feel more relatable because they are coming from actual people who are living the same wacky, hilarious lives you’re trying to capture. It’s like crowdsourcing the absurdity of everyday life and turning it into comedy fuel.
One of my favorite parts of this is giving credit. Sometimes, I will pin the original comment, shout them out in the caption, or even mention them in the video itself. It makes the whole thing feel more collaborative, like we are building this weird little comedy world together.
If you are making short-form comedy and you are stuck or just want to build deeper connections with your audience, scroll through your comments. Listen. There is probably a sketch idea sitting there, just waiting to be brought to life. And when you make it, let the people know. Because nothing builds loyalty like turning a follower’s random comment into a full-blown comedy skit.
It’s like improv with the internet: you say “yes, and…” to their idea, and they keep coming back for more.