Scott Meyer is the writer of Basic Instructions, a handy guide to living a more fulfilled life.

You started out as a standup and met or worked with people like Weird Al, Mitch Herberg, Doug Stanhope and Patton Oswalt.  What was the comedy scene in the US like at the time?

In the 80s, stand-up enjoyed what they refer to in the industry as “the boom.” It was a magical time when you could make a really comfortable living with nothing but twenty minutes’ worth of material and a willingness to travel. It lasted until 1991. I started in 1992.

It was like someone took the movies “Punchline” and “Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome” and put them in a blender together. There was an ever-dwindling number of clubs, housing ever-smaller and surlier audiences and an ever more desperate and hostile group of comics fighting for the same jobs. People who had been making six-figure incomes and squandered them were struggling to eke out a living and us new guys were left wondering what we’d gotten ourselves into. Over time the industry found an equilibrium, but it was a much smaller and more low-rent affair than I had anticipated.

There was some great comedy going on, though. You mentioned three of the best: Mitch Hedberg, Doug Stanhope, and Patton Oswalt. First time I worked with Stanhope, I watched his set and couldn’t believe how easy he made it look.

Do you think you could go back to doing standup after doing BI for so long?

No. I’ve considered giving it a shot, but it’d have to be for the right reasons, i.e. that I have something to say that I can’t say in the comic, and I just don’t see that happening. Frankly, the comic is a much better vehicle for my style of humour than stand-up ever was. I just did a strip about a superhero who’s everywhere at once. That’s not an idea I’d be able to make work on stage.

Are your benevolent overlords at Disneyworld aware of BI? [Scott works as a cast member at Disney World Florida]

My immediate supervisors are.  If they’ve told Mickey or not, I don’t know.

What’s your approach to writing a strip?

Good question. I hadn’t really given it much thought until recently.

I had a bout of writer’s block that lasted a few weeks. I’d struggle to come up with anything I thought was good until the last minute, then I’d just go with the best idea I had, and it’d end up being pretty good. I realized that I’d been censoring ideas before they were fully formed for questionable reasons.

There’s a great documentary called “Gigantic” about one of my favourite bands, They Might Be Giants. Towards the end, one of the two guys named John who make up the band says that They Might Be Giants needs to be “a world of endless musical possibilities” in order for them to continue. At the time I didn’t get it, but now I do. BI has to be a reflection of whatever I find funny this week or it’s doomed. Nothing’s worse than someone writing something they don’t think is funny, but they think you will.

You seem to have come across a great way of stuffing plenty of jokes into one strip with the minimal amount of artworking.  Did that style come straight away from being a comedy writer or take a while to get right?

In the first few BI’s, I averaged about one joke every other panel. Then I started putting at least one attempt at humour in each panel, and that’s when I started being proud of my work. I’ve referred to it as “The Iron-Body style of cartooning” because I’ve seen too many kung-fu movies. Others have called it the “death by a thousand cuts” approach. That’s probably more accurate.

Often I’ll have an idea I love, and three good jokes, but I’ll be stuck on the fourth. It’s always tempting to just go with three, but it’s much more satisfying when I come up with that fourth joke.

Your wife Missy and friend Ric feature a lot.  Have you ever written something, then thought ‘This might earn me a clip round the ear’?

Yes, but not from Missy. If you look, she’s the only person in the strip who consistently comes off well. I haven’t been married thirteen years because I don’t know what I’m doing.

Many times I have written something about Ric and thought, “This time I’ve gone too far.” Invariably, those are Ric’s favorite strips. I don’t know if he’s a masochist, or just super vain. I like to think it’s a little of both.

I wrote a strip in which I suggest he look for a woman like him. He recoils in horror at the idea of dating a self-absorbed asthmatic. I thought that was going too far, but his parents clipped that comic out and hung it on their fridge. You never know.

Actually, that’s just Ric’s and my sense of humour. To listen to our conversations, you’d think we were both wretched failures and horrible human beings. We take self-effacing humour to an illogical extreme. I stood for Ric at his third wedding. He and his bride walked down the aisle to the fight music from Star Trek, the original series. That’s just what he finds funny.

What’s the future for Basic Instructions?  A Rocket Hat offshoot perhaps, or More Advanced Instructions?

My friend Ray Freisen (a much better artist than I am) talked about doing a spin-off of Rocket Hat, but it didn’t work out. My part of that project is going to be in my second book.

I’ve thought about a side project, but I’m busy enough right now just juggling a day job and BI.

Any particular favourite web comics of your own?

(This question can be read two different ways, so I’ll answer both.)

“Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal” is awfully good, and “Penny Arcade” continues to be one of my favourites.

OR

I was very proud of “How to Write a Superhero Story.” Also the series I did about applying the laws of physics to your personal relationship was quite satisfying.

The best single joke I’ve ever written was in “How to Express Condolences,” when I told someone I was sorry to hear that their pet had died by texting them “ROFG” (rolling on floor, grieving).

Help Is On The Way: A collection of Basic Instructions Volume 1 is available from Amazon, Vol 2 is out in May.

You can also get BI collections on yer iphone.