Chuck Lorre gets candid on hits, flops and hard lessons in new memoir 'Sitcom'

That nudge ultimately unlocked a deeply cathartic experience for the showrunner. “Writing down your experiences gives you distance and perspective,” Lorre said. “It allows you to laugh at your past and maybe understand it a little better.”

In an interview with The Associated Press, Lorre opens up about the personal introspection that led to “Sitcom,” and shares his thoughts on where television comedy stands today, plus offers a pragmatic take on the recent Paramount Skydance-Warner Bros. deal.

Answers have been condensed for clarity and brevity.

AP: In “Sitcom,” you chose to include actual scripts at the end of the book with your own handwritten notations. Why share those with readers?

LORRE: I thought it might be interesting to people reading the book to see what a sitcom script actually looks like from the inside. The handwritten notations were my effort to communicate how I felt about those scripts when we were making them, as well as how I feel about them looking back now. I wanted to provide a little real, behind-the-scenes insight into the process of making these shows rather than just talking about them in the abstract.

AP: Why do you think it has become so difficult for sitcoms to succeed in today’s television landscape?

LORRE: Before there is comedy or jokes, the audience must care about the characters. It isn’t even about making them “likable.” Danny DeVito in “Taxi” or Carroll O’Connor as Archie Bunker played awful, angry people, but you loved watching them. If the audience cares, then a character falling down the stairs becomes hilarious because they were running somewhere important. A great sitcom like “Cheers” or “The Big Bang Theory” becomes a surrogate family where people gather around a table, eat together, and bond. That emotional connection is much harder to build today because getting people to sit down for a half-hour comedy in a hyper-fragmented market is an immense challenge.

AP: You share some of your failed projects and pilots in the book. Do you ever wish you could get a do-over?

LORRE: Looking back with regret is pointless, but I actually did get a second chance with “The Big Bang Theory,” which was a miracle. We wrote and produced an initial pilot that did not work, but Johnny Galecki and Jim Parsons were in that pilot and had this extraordinary chemistry. We got a second chance to retool it, and it worked beyond my wildest dreams. With failed shows, you either learn from the failure or you become cynical and bitter as a result. Learning from it is the better option.

AP: Warner Bros. has undergone massive corporate shifts, including its recent merger deal with Skydance. Having had a longtime overall deal with Warner Bros. Television, does this affect your work?

LORRE: None of these corporate shenanigans ever really filter down to where I am. When I first came here, the company was merging with AOL in 1999, then Time Warner, then AT&T, who wanted me to write shows for cellphones, and I told them, “No, I don’t write for phones” — and then Discovery.

I met Mr. Ellison recently, and he seems like a decent fellow, but basically, we have a “new daddy.” My job is to try to make something that makes people laugh. It has nothing to do with corporate superstructure or $80 billion in debt. There is no sitcom in the world that’s going to clear that.

AP: What do you watch when you go home at night?

LORRE: Strangely enough, I watch a lot of dramas rather than comedies. I’m intrigued by watching things I don’t know how to do with incredible action sequences. Right now, I love “Slow Horses” with Gary Oldman. He plays this completely despicable, horrible human being, and yet you absolutely love watching him. When I unwind at night, that’s the kind of storytelling I’m looking for.

AP: What do you hope aspiring writers or fans take away from reading your book?

LORRE: If you want to write, you have to read. Everything from Ray Bradbury’s “The Martian Chronicles” to “Moby Dick” shaped me as a kid. Creation is always about standing on the shoulders of those who came before you. The Rolling Stones don’t exist without Chicago blues, and comedy writers don’t exist without the great shows that preceded them.