A lot of stories have been told over the millennia. There is no shortage of repeats and overlaps. But voice can be unique. Voice can distinguish a work from the pack. And voice can lead to writing that only works because it comes from that specific voice. That’s the gold standard.

(Tips for Creating Voice in Your Writing.)

My favorite comics and shows all have it. Dave Chapelle, Maria Bamford, Nate Bargatze. The original (British) version of The Office, Atlanta, Succession. Those stories, those points of view, that dialogue, and those characters only work when presented in their specific, unique voice.

#2. Character counts.

Character is a subset of voice, specific facets of a singular vision. If you cluster enough shining facets together you create a gemstone. Story doesn’t matter if we’re not invested in the characters. It’s the characters we root for, root against, and remember. Much more than story.

The examples are plenty in stand-up and narrative storytelling. Dana Carvey delivers an entire cast of characters in a single stand-up set. You can probably name a few. The famous characters depicted on Saturday Night Live stay with us even when we can’t remember what they said. Roseanne Rosannadanna, Stephan, Darnell Hayes, Linda Richmond. Make them specific, and they will be unforgettable.

#3. Story services voice and character, not the other way around.

If you have a glass of wine, voice and character are the wine. Story is the glass. It holds everything together. You need it. It has to be sound. But what you enjoy, what you feel, is the wine. Story, in and of itself, is rarely what’s most important. Or memorable. The importance of a story-first approach is shouted in how-to books and writing seminars and especially by film and TV executives. But if you create three-dimensional, consistently behaving characters, and set them on conflicting paths, story should take care of itself.

If you ever hear a character say, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but…” it’s because they’re acting out of character to fit into a pre-ordained template. And often when that happens, the viewer or reader feels the inconsistency and loses interest.

#4. Brevity.

This is paramount in stand-up. Comics refine and hone to deliver their material with not only the fewest words, but the fewest syllables. Television comedy is the same. So is writing novels. Get to the point. Get to the joke. Get to the emotional moment. And in general, start your story as late as possible and end it as quickly as possible.

In working on sit-com scripts, the first scene we all thought was necessary often was cut during production. Or in editing. The audience is smarter than you think. Start the story in motion—they’ll know what’s going on.

#5. Be kind to yourself.

Writing is making mistakes and fixing them. We all write garbage. All first drafts need work. Sometimes a lot of work. Sometimes a toss in the garbage. Don’t beat yourself up when you write something that doesn’t work. Don’t get down when you figure out that you should have gone another way. Those realizations are something to celebrate. Yes, it means you have more work ahead but that’s okay. You’re making it better. The real value in writing is the writing.

I’ve heard of writers who don’t like writing. I don’t understand why they do it. If you don’t like writing, there are other ways to express yourself. Other jobs. Know that it’s a process. Accept that it’s a process. Once in a while something brilliant just flows seemingly out of nowhere. But that’s not the norm. The norm is making mistakes and fixing them.  

#6. Relatability is key.

A character’s wants and needs must ring universal. Seinfeld is a perfect example. Everyone likes to say it’s a show about nothing, but that’s far from true. Seinfeld is a show about selfishness. Jerry, George, Elaine, and Kramer are the most selfish characters on the planet. That’s why the show has such universal appeal. We understand the selfish impulses those characters feel.

Whether it’s lying to a prospective love interest to make ourselves look better or regretting a hastily made decision like quitting a job. Most of us have the good sense not to act on those selfish impulses. In Seinfeld they do act on them, which is what makes the show so funny. And don’t confuse likability with entertaining. George Costanza is not likable. Kendall Roy is far from lovable. But their behavior is lovely to watch.

Click to continue.

#7. Everyone has an opinion.

When you put voice and character first, it’s sometimes hard for readers or viewers to “get it.” We’re hardwired to be wary of something new. Out of the ordinary. Sometimes something new is loved right away. Often it takes time.

So be careful when soliciting others’ opinions. Any one opinion may or may not have value. But one of my favorite sayings from TV writing is: If you’re at a party with 12 people, and 12 people tell you you’re drunk, then you’re drunk. If everyone gives you the same note, it’s probably correct.

#8. Structure is bullshit.

The idea that a certain signpost in your story has to happen on a certain page number is absurd. As a young writer, I read all the story-structure books and, after 40 years of working as a professional writer, I can tell you this: All those books are written by people who can’t write narrative fiction. Or they can and they’re just trying to pad their bank accounts.

What’s worse, is some non-writing people with authority (film and TV execs, publishers, editors) read those story structure books and try to apply the books’ professed wisdom to the work they’re overseeing. The result is rarely good. Story should be developed from the inside out. It can be a messy process, but that’s okay. Characters need to behave consistently. If you hammer them into place to fit a story template, their integrity will shatter. And your viewers will disengage.

#9. Show don’t tell is overblown.

Another outsider’s note. Something people learn from a book or in a writing class. It’s only true some of the time. Sometimes viewers or readers want to be told, especially to move things along. Sometimes it’s better to show. Showing can evoke more emotion. But neither show nor tell is best for all situations.

It’s human nature to like having stories told to us. That gets back to voice. We love when someone can take us to a new place in an interesting, moving way.

#10. Work ethic.

I began my professional writing career writing stand-up material for myself. I then wrote television. I’ve written stage plays and screenplays. Now I write novels. One thing is true for all mediums—it’s a job. Or as I like to say, “It’s a butt-in-a-chair job.” Treat it like one. Write when you’re inspired and, more importantly, write when you’re not inspired.

We all have bad days. We all get off track. We all have doubts. But you won’t have anything if you don’t write. Some people set goals by time. I do it by word count. Power through, day after day, whether it takes one hour or 14. No shortcuts. No formulas. No antenna-like receiving from the universe. Just write.

Check out Matt Goldman’s The Murder Show here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

The post 10 Things I’ve Learned About Writing From Being a Stand-Up Comic and in the Writer’s Room of Emmy Award-Winning TV Shows appeared first on Writer's Digest.

What are the odds that opening line will end up being funny? Well, on its own merits, probably around 50-50. But if the line is being incorporated into a thriller… Not so good. Like a chain, it will only be as humorous as the rest of the work’s weakest link.

(5 Things Writers Can Do to Add Comedy to Their Novels.)

For humor to work in a thriller, the story and plot structure, and numerous other story elements must be in place and perfectly balanced—or at least as close to perfect as possible.

This brings us to the first key takeaway when attempting to do so: You must understand and know your characters as deeply as you know yourself. Their dialogue and behavior must be unique and organic to who they are and to the situation they’re in; making sure it’s believable that they would find themselves in the situation they’re in and not doing or saying anything to be intentionally funny.

If they do, it will come off as forced or cross the line into joke-telling. Don’t ever cross this line. Doing so will, at the very least, take the thrill out of the thriller and land the entire work on life support by page 45. And if the attempt is a head-on across the double yellows, the reader will declare it D.O.A. by page five or 10.

The prestigious Kirkus Review recently declared my debut novel, What Are the Odds, is “an outlandish and entertaining comic thriller.” If I don’t say so myself, that is as good as it gets when you risk incorporating humor into this genre.

If the writing style, story, plot, etc., stands on its own and draws the reader in, then seasoning the anxious and tense moments and situations with laughter in the right amount and at the right moments will take their reading experience from a good one to a great one—that is, of course, if what’s written makes the reader laugh. If it doesn’t work on all these levels, the only thing the author and publisher will hear from the reader is, “Yes, please just refund it back to the original form of payment.”

What Are the Odds explores what we all know: Life [often] doesn’t go as planned. Whether it’s being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the right place at the wrong time, doesn’t matter. What does matter is whether we’re in control of our lives, or are on some unforeseen, invisible path where every step unwittingly guides us along the string of relentless ticks of life’s clock, leading to the very second when the random unexpected happens. When the odds of such an occurrence are so astronomical that they’re incalculable, is it irrational to not write it off as chance or coincidence?

For much of his life, this question has dogged former NYPD detective Ray Dawson, a guy who’s as much a cop as he is a man and was unfairly forced into early retirement and stripped of his pension. The same is true for former Amco Oil company executive, Wilbur Bailey, now a wily, neurotic, and environmentally conscious fugitive with a $5 million bounty on his head, and IRS Special Agent Philip Dancourt, whose five-year investigation into Amco Oil has gone bust.

The odds of their three paths intersecting are incalculable. But it happens. And when it does, it propels them—and the reader—on a thrilling, thought-provoking, life-changing, and often hilarious journey down a tortuous road of truths and deceptions, trusts and paranoias, while taking them, in unexpected ways, on a deeper dive into the depths of love, loss, friendship, loneliness, and a commitment to values larger than oneself.

This brings us to the second key takeaway: To deliver a platinum-card-level emotional experience and enable readers to like and root for the characters, even when their behavior is morally questionable, the ride must also tap into the array of emotions we all feel in real life: excitement, anxiety, calmness, laughter, sadness, anticipation, and so on. Of course, we don’t feel every one of these emotions at once or on the heels of each other.

Click to continue.

Herein lies the third key takeaway when incorporating humor into a thriller: Timing and pacing are critical. You must completely understand the intensity level of every scene and situation to know when it’s the right moment to offer the reader a little relief. How? Play around with it, trial and error. Ultimately, go with your gut.

Think back to when you were a kid on the roller coaster, that moment of relief when you could breathe. But your brain subconsciously remembers the anxious, gut-wrenching feeling when the intensity is dialed back up as the roller coaster rockets toward the sky, and you know that in another three seconds, it will barrel-roll over the apex and plummet into a nosedive. The result is a wild, crazy, emotional, and yes, fun ride.

It’s no different than when you’re telling a story. The reader’s brains will remember, and you will engage them on all, or multiple, levels at the very least. But if the intensity level remains the same throughout, it will lose its impact and begin to bore the reader or tire them out instead of enticing them to turn the next page. And the next…

In a thriller, situational and character humor working on all levels not only strengthens the bond between the characters but also the bond between the characters and readers. I mean, who doesn’t love to be around someone who’s endearing and makes you laugh simply because of their worldview?

A good way to have a more complete understanding of the above, while also providing a useful guide to help you achieve it on your own, would be to buy a copy of What Are the Odds. The best way would be to buy several copies!

Meanwhile, back in the bar, one thriller looked at the other, then turned to the bartender and said, “

*Sorry, the writer of this essay has reached the Writer’s Digest essay word count limit. 

Check out David List’s What Are the Odds here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

The post How to Add Comedy to a Thriller Novel appeared first on Writer's Digest.

On June 15, 2024, our WDU 3rd Annual Humor Writing Virtual Conference will provide expert insights from FOUR award-winning and bestselling humor authors on the finer points of how to write humor. Spend the day learning techniques for honing your craft from four different published humor authors, then (if you choose) you can have your query letter critiqued by one of our participating literary agents. The literary agent will provide you with a personalized critique of your query letter.

Click to continue.

If you want more online education, see the full list of WDU courses here.

Writing Scary Stories: A Short Story Primer on Horror

Do you like scary stories? Having trouble writing them? This four-week class will make sure you have the basics of short story telling down, and then show you how to use that pairing between terror and horror to immerse your readers in atmosphere, mood, tone, setting, and depth. It will also help you to understand the genre in greater detail—what’s selling now, the various subgenres, and how hybrid fiction can open up a wider range of markets for you. From an author, editor, teacher, and publisher who has been a Bram Stoker (twice) and Shirley Jackson finalist, this isn’t just theory, it’s execution, experience, and passion.

Click to continue.

Write in Italy With Writer’s Digest!

Writers from around the world and throughout the centuries have found inspiration from the beauty of Florence and the surrounding Tuscan countryside. Now, you can be one of them! Join Writer’s Digest in Florence and Tuscany this fall for the most awe-inspiring writing retreat available!

Click to learn more.

Watch More Than 400 Expert Writing Tutorials

With a growing catalog of instructional writing videos available instantly, we have writing instruction on everything from improving your craft to getting published and finding an audience. New videos are added every month!

Click to continue.

The post All About Humor Writing appeared first on Writer's Digest.

What is humor? In my view, it’s just a way of communicating (other ways include dictation, criticism, and bloviating). According to The Mosaic Project, a youth organization that teaches kids effective communication, all communication breaks down to three things: your body language, what you say, and how you say it. 

In children’s books, this triumvirate works in both words and pictures, and is supported by a funny story. So, if you want to make kids laugh, make sure you’re using all the tools.

Body language:

1. Facial expressions. Whether it’s the epic feeling of despair, a conniving look of mischief, begging Bambi eyes, or a suspicious side eye, hilarious facial expressions are key. Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin and Hobbes, is the undisputed master, so study him closely.

2. Body expressions. The body says just as much as the face, through slumped shoulders, hanging upside down off a chair with all-consuming boredom, or funky dance moves. In the Cosmic Adventures of Astrid and Stella, best frenemies Astrid and Stella use their bodies in all these ways and more to humorously communicate how they’re feeling.

What you say:

3. Creative contrasts. One of our readers’ favorite lines is from Bananas for You!: “I love you more than undies love butts!” This makes kids laugh for a few reasons. First, it’s surprising. We often hear love compared to sweet things like candy or the moon (and back), but butts? Speaking of butts, this phrase anthropomorphizes both rumps and underwear, asking the reader to imagine: “What if undies and butts could talk?” (well, butts do talk, sort of . . .) Finally, it brings in hyperbole and a funny metaphor—the conceit that undies really, really do love butts, which makes surprising logical sense, because without them they’d have no reason to exist—no ifs, ands, or butts! (See what I did there? I threw in a pun for good measure!).

4. Kid logic. Kids have their own logic and universal feelings that are wholly relatable to other kids but make no sense to adults. For example, in The Cosmic Adventures of Astrid and Stella, Stella dramatically declares “I hate naps!”—which is funny because what kid has not experienced that feeling before? In My Dad is Amazing!, the narrator declares: “My dad is smarter than a super smartypants!” This is funny because “super smartypants” is both fun to say (alliterative, and uses the word “pants” which is just inherently amusing) and captures how kids think about intelligence, which has nothing to do with the adult world of IQ tests, education, or advanced degrees.

How you say it:

5. Word play. All kids love a good play on words, whether it be a pun, a joke, alliteration, an onomatopoeia, or a funny metaphor. For example, in The Cosmic Adventures of Astrid and Stella, Stella, a flying squirrel, exhorts: “No, no, no with a double topping of NO!” describing a familiar feeling with a highly relatable ice cream metaphor that makes kids laugh out loud. Many of our books, including Sloth and Smell the Roses and Super Pooper and Whizz Kid: Potty Power!, have funny, punny titles, which signals right away to the reader that they’re in for a treat.

6. Word choice. Some words are just innately funny to say, like “bananas,” “squirm,” or “toot.” Since children’s books are meant to be read aloud, picking words that are delightful to speak out loud is a great way to entertain. Bonus points if the funny words also rhyme.

7. Hyperbole. Several of our books are built around hyberbole, including My Mom is Magical!, My Dad is Amazing!, and You are Fantastic! Kids are small, so it’s both empowering and fun to talk about huge, enormous things, especially comparisons like “a ton of puppies!” or “a pile of pancakes!”

8. Visual puns. A visual pun can augment a verbal pun or be a joke unto itself. For example, in The Cosmic Adventures of Astrid and Stella, Bobo the robot delivers a straight-faced robotic aside that “Someone’s in a fowl mood,” while holding up a rubber chicken (deadpan humor is sometimes the best, because it sets up the contrast between funny/not funny). In Sloth and Smell the Roses, the reader is invited to “feel their anger boil and steam,” which is illustrated by a hugely enraged but physically tiny teapot (many kids can relate!).

Finally, the following elements can add to humor:

9. Situation. Everyone’s familiar with TV “sit-coms” which draw humor from funny, relatable situations. In Thanks a Ton!, we set up a fundamentally humorous situation: A little elephant is SO grateful that words just aren’t enough, so it tries to thank the reader with a growing pile of grateful STUFF—including a hilarious assortment of totally random things like a crocodile, a St. Bernard, a “holy moly cow,” and even a kitchen sink!

10. Crossing boundaries. Have you noticed that humans laugh when they’re nervous? Laughter releases anxiety, especially fear of social isolation incurred by breaking rules. Kids are natural boundary-testers so they LOVE laughing about things that make grown-ups mad or squirm, but that are normal and natural, like farts. In Goodnight Baboon!, a cheeky baby baboon repeatedly goes AWOL at bedtime, streaking, playing the electric guitar, snorkeling in the tub (while farting underwater), and using his toothbrush as a microphone. This is funny because it tests real-life boundaries in a situation that makes a lot of parents exhausted and furious. However all’s well that ends well: The baby baboon falls asleep and he and his caregiver exchange one big hug—and everyone gets to laugh along with the baby baboon and their caregiver at the ridiculous futility of bedtime power-struggles.

11. Engaging the reader. Bringing the reader in on the joke is a great way get a giggle. For example, at the end of ABC Dance! after a parade of animals dance through the alphabet in witty rhyming couplets, the reader is spontaneously invited to join the fun: “Hey, is that YOUR toe tapping? Well c’mon, strut your stuff!”

There are three more things that I want to underscore about making kids laugh out loud:

12. Respect the reader. Have you ever had an author, teacher, or person of any description talk down to you or tell you what to do? Not funny, right? Nope. Moving on…

13. Respect yourself. Great humor requires confidence. Laugh at yourself in a kind-hearted way, and the reader will laugh with you.

14. Have a heart. There’s a huge difference between laughing WITH and laughing AT, especially with sensitive, earnest, and vulnerable kids (and adults). Laughing WITH characters empowers them, because humor helps us gain control of an awkward situation. Laughing AT a character takes power away. So, rather than showing a banana peel landing on a child’s head (laughing AT), show them slipping on a banana peel, striking a funny pose in mid-air, and landing on their feet (laughing WITH).

Ultimately, great humor is empowering. It helps us make sense of the world, and find relief from our very human anxiety over the absurdity of our existence. Kids and parents need this more than ever in a world that often feels big, scary, and out of control. 

As a children’s book author, you have the power and privilege to provide a little humorous release (just like a fart!) and comfort to readers. As the narrator sagely opines in our book Hang in There!: “where there is humor, there is hope!”

The post Tickling Funny Bones: 14 Tips for Crafting Humor in Children’s Books appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(5 Things Romance Writers Do to Win Over Readers.)

In my mind, these two practices were absolutely and completely separate. The world of comedy and comedians taught me time and time again that concepts like true love, meet cutes, and happy endings were to be regarded with the heavy-lidded, cynical gaze of a Soviet cigarette vendor. Shame, the ultimate renewable energy source, had been such a potent motivator in so many other facets of my life! But for some reason, when it came to my fixation with kissing scenes and late-night arguments in the rain, I couldn’t keep myself from blurring the lines.

Each time my fingers met the keys to work on one of my private works, I was drawn to ridiculous metaphors, goofy lists, strange side-characters, and phrases like “the oral.” Writing 10,000 words of grounded human interaction and action-packed plot felt like walking barefoot across hot gravel. But dialogue between two women discussing a shared dream of hiring whoever did Kim K’s laser hair removal to do their lower backs? That would fly right out of me.

Meanwhile, Comedian Betty would, as an ongoing bit, read sex scenes she’d written on stage—featuring aliens and blond men and ridiculous descriptions of orgasms and high school history teachers (real and fake). I once opened for a Riverdale podcast where I read my own (crafted specifically for the show, I swear!) Riverdale fan fiction.

I think writers universally feel an unimaginable pressure to Say Something when they write a book; to Speak Truth; to win awards and mold minds and bring about some sort of change for the better through the power of their prose. Books are Serious because they’re made out of ink and paper, unlike TV shows which are made out of magnets and Liberal Propaganda. My writing needed to be serious, no? And if it wasn’t serious that was a personal failing, right?

Similarly, there’s an erroneous belief that sexy and funny are opposites—and that goofy and sexy are mortal enemies. That the comedic scope of a rom-com is limited to peripheral characters who speak in catch-phrases and have poor personal hygiene. But it was becoming clear to me as I wrote more and more that funniness—as a character trait and a way of communicating information—would always take center stage for me.

And with that belief, I began to (bravely, so bravely) posit: Is sexiness not also the art of surprise, as comedy is so often called?

Megan Thee Stallion, poet laureate of the decade in my humble opinion, is the queen of blending the ridiculous and sexy into a swirling, decadent treat that’ll make you laugh out loud and blush—as any good romantic comedy should! Meg leverages classic comedic writing tools to surprise, delight, and keep listeners on their (curled) toes: the rule of three, misdirections, absurdity, simile. I’ve listened to “WAP” more times than I can count, and it still makes me laugh out loud. It’s a deeply funny song, and like a lot of really good jokes, there’s a whole swathe of people who just did not get it.

Megan’s writing works because her wit is sharp and direct; she sticks the landing every time. She uses very few words, and yet says so much.

I took note. Then, I started writing Summertime Punchline.

Check out Betty Corrello’s Summertime Punchline here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

I too wanted to create a tone and voice that was consistent and, sorry to use such a sexual word, taut. A well-crafted romance skates a razor-thin line between farce and fantasy, not unlike Meg’s music. Maybe I wasn’t going to write something Serious. But I would take what I was writing seriously. I was ready to stick the landing. I sharpened my pencil like it was a katana.

Quick note on that metaphor: I did not use a pencil to write this book. I used a laptop.

A good romance writer never wants their heroine, hero, or love interests to be the butt of the joke—they’re maybe just the center of the joke. The joke nucleus. Del serves as my joke nucleus by narrating the story with her distinctly comedic voice. 

Maybe your joke nucleus is a dysfunctional family, a cast of whacky side characters, or a particularly juicy Fish Out Of Water situation. But ultimately, the allure of a good comedy and a good romance are the same: voyeurism. Hearing, seeing, and naming things that we aren’t supposed to.

In hindsight, it’s easy to piece this all together so nicely. But allowing myself to reframe joke writing as a sexy endeavor—and to reframe sexy writing as inherently subversive and a comedy gold rush—took a lot of unpacking.

I was completely misguided to think that these parts of myself needed to be separate, and I will forever challenge the idea that sexy and funny are opposites. It was an outdated, limiting personal belief that I can only blame on ignorance and youth. Which is crazy, because I just turned 16 and I still have so much to learn!!!

The post Funny Isn’t the Opposite of Sexy appeared first on Writer's Digest.

What makes you laugh?

What made you laugh when you were little?

Jot those down. The following are some things to be aware of and some techniques, tips, and tricks to try when writing humor for children. 

Pre-Writing Mindset

Originality

This is one of the most important elements of comedy. If you are not afraid to express your weird (I hope) and wonderful (surely) sense of humor, you are ahead of the game. Trust that what you think is funny, other people will find funny too. What makes you laugh is your North Star.

Photo Op!

Find a photo of yourself as a kid. Frame it and put it on your desk. Framing it gives a sort of permanence to it. It’s like the kid in you is sitting there saying: “Yeah, I’m on the playground! Let’s do this!”

I’ve had mine on my desk since I started writing for animation years ago. Age three, in a two-sizes-too-big velvet dress, circled by cats, on cinder-block steps in front of our trailer, grinning. There’s something about this photo that constantly reminds me of a few things: simplicity, don’t try to be too fancy, the joy of animals. Also: find a good tailor.

Eileen Robinson, editor and owner of the Charlesbridge imprint Charlesbridge Moves, shared in a workshop that she does this and encouraged us to do the same. I can’t overstate the importance of this step. It supports not just finding the funny, but connecting with an important kid—you!

Types of Humor

Is Body Humor for You?

Kids won’t usually laugh at sophisticated things or get wry, sarcastic, dry humor. In exchange, they do love body humor. Remember, they are just understanding their bodies and they are literally growing as they read. So, it makes sense. It makes them giggle, or downright burst with bubbly laughter. And part of that is seeing our reactions when we read it to them. That can be funny to them.

As Tarō Gomi asks in the classic Everyone Poops: “Which end is the snake’s behind?” It’s not for everyone, but nearly every kid is ready to laugh at this. Don’t force it, and don’t pander. But, if you write something along these lines and think, This is fun-nee, keep it.

Consider Slapstick

Another way to get extra jokes is extra slapstick. Cartoons and silent films contain plenty, which are globally translatable.

Physical Humor and Action Can Crack ’em Up!

If you have a knack for describing physical action, it plays well to younger readers. They light up when they imagine the ridiculous images you’ve created. Adam Rex does this throughout The True Meaning of Smekday which is one reason kids love it:

When they passed and were only feet from our restroom, I grabbed an empty milk bottle and hurled it across the street. It crashed and spread glass all over the floor of one of those stores that sells electric nose hair trimmers and solar-powered vacuum cleaners. The noise or the motion or both set off two Dancin’ Santas and a robot dog. The Gorg turned around and went to investigate where all that barking and Feliz Navidad was coming from.

This is partly why cartoons are so popular with kids and have been since their invention. Viewership declines as kids get older, and it’s no wonder: young kids in particular love watching the physical gaffs and gags.

The rise of graphic novels in every age group includes an array of humorous tomes. A great thing about graphic stories is you can sometimes get more jokes on a page.

First Drafts

Be Quick

Making kids laugh requires brevity and clarity. Their attention span is shorter, we know this. But it bears repeating and hitting hard with a wet noodle. It’s also good practice for making anyone laugh.

Tone

Tone varies wildly and can be subtle. “The Epic Tales of Captain Underpants,” Minions, “Angie Tribeca,” and “Seinfeld” are all comedies, but the tone of each is different. From the characters’ personalities to the way they appear to the way the characters are shot and lit, the tone is set and the rest follows. Write everything within the set tone. This is like reading the room. Feeling the vibe. Are we writing ridiculous shenanigans or gentle sloping humor? Tone trickles throughout the story, the characters, their relationships, and individual jokes. So, we might have a fantastic joke but need to cut it—it’s out of character or doesn’t fit the project.

Joke Structures

Lists: things on the list get funnier as the list goes on.

Set-up/punch one liners: the first part is serious, has emotion and a strong viewpoint behind it, then the punch twists the idea, possibly making the first part mean something completely different.

Stories: a character with a goal gets into more and more ridiculous situations, says hilarious things, meets funny friends and frenemies along the way, gets into loads of trouble, then weasels their way out of it.

Exaggerate

It’s common for a comic to get one laugh on a bit and move on—whoa! No! There’s more meal to be chewed, there’s some fat on that! Grab that grub! Take the joke further.

Make a Big Mistake

There are two reasons I support mistake-making. First, we know that failure means we tried. It also means if the mistake is wrong enough, we can make someone laugh. Kids will engage with this endlessly until they’re certain we’re all idiots. Even then, they’ll try to help us. (So kind.) Haven’t you met a kid who is having their fifth birthday and said:

YOU: Well, how did the test go?

BDAY KID: What test?

YOU: Your driver’s license test. You’re driving right?

BDAY KID (laughing, confused, pleased): NO!!! That’s silly!

Roll Around in Wordplay Like a Muddy Puppy

Do a deep dive on the following and see which ones come more naturally. If you pick one to work on each week, in a month you’ll have quite the arsenal.

• Alliteration: The same consonant occurs two words or more in a row. E.g., pudgy puppy.
• Assonance: Same, but with vowel sounds. E.g., a fleck of heck.
• Consonance: A variation of alliteration except the consonants repeat in the middle and end instead. E.g., Elle was at the mall with all of her elves.
• Onomatopoeia: My favorite. Sounds coming alive! Whoosh!
• Similes: Compare two ideas. The thing and the idea of something the thing could be like. Like is often a tip-off that similes are in the vicinity. Similes plus imagination allow for very fun images. E.g., Mrs. Flanners’ footsteps could be heard tromping down the hall like a stegosaurus looking for its next meal—and I was the plant it was going to chew on.
• Metaphors: Connect two things and suggest they are similar in some way. The funny/clever happens if you can surprise us when doing so. E.g., The cop barked orders at the dog.

Puns Are Number One

To us, they can be annoying, groan making, and don’t always translate with a global audience. But, do kids love ’em, or do they just put up with them like we adults do? No matter, I have prepared a pun primer for the punniest among us!

• Similar sounds: Olive juice. I Love you.
• Spellings: When his parents drove off from the sundae shop, Kai was desserted.
• Double Meanings: Did you have French fries in France? No, I could only get ’em in Greece.
• Two in One: The firetrucks are the best part of the parade; the Dalmatians are easily spotted.

Rhyme

Rhyme is a great way to connect with kid readers. It’s the perfect place to sneak in surprise because the rhyme scheme ABAB sets up an expectation of what the rhyme might be, then offering something different. Some stand-up comics use short poems as a joke format to great success.

Write Evocative Sounds, Smells, Feels

This is yet another way to capture hilarity. Bring the funny into the five senses and what we imagine hearing or smelling can be as powerful as what we visualize. In The True Meaning of Smekday by Adam Rex he describes: “Her voice had changed from birdsong to something like the sound of windshield wipers on dry glass.”

Build, Build … Build!

Escalate situations building on what’s working. Think of your comedy like a fireworks show. It starts with something intriguing, bright, shiny, a pop. Then more wild color. Then the big finale; blasting off. All the trouble the character can get into is multiplied until belly laughs are undeniable.

REVISING

Punch-Up Pass

Do a pass just for jokes. Take your goggles, put in the “punch-up lens,” and look for places to up the antics and add wordplay.

Read it aloud!

This is so important. You will catch typos, think of new bits, add, take away, realize it is drooping like a sad-sack-sicle in the middle. Read it aloud to a very funny friend and before you get started, tell them you are looking for ways to escalate what’s already there. Tell them it means you trust them, and you think they’re either as funny as you or funnier.

Start Strong, End Strong

Go over the beginning and ending to tighten them up. Can you start stronger? Can you escalate those fireworks and crackling bits at the end? Can you raise the stakes again with one more (funnier) bit?

Some Things to Avoid

• Kids don’t laugh at the same things as adults do. Concepts that might be funny to an adult might not ring true to a kid because they don’t have that experience, including jokes about adult relationships. Kids don’t often relate to marital/partner/office/co-worker/boss jokes. (The Boss Baby has that whole baby part, so it gets a pass.) Kids relate to and find humor in jokes involving other kids, parents, teachers, caregivers, and so on, the main characters they see in their world. Someone like a loud-burping librarian who can’t help herself and over-apologizes. It’s got physical comedy, but it’s not offensive and although librarians, to me, are near perfect, some might occasionally have to burp!
• Don’t be afraid to get silly yourself. Kids love seeing adults be silly because it’s out of the ordinary. A kid walking into a room to discover their parents acting like their pets, chasing each other, rolling around on the ground, barking or mewing would be funny because it would be unexpected and yet still familiar to the kid.
• Don’t forget about their world and what is important in it and to them.
• Let negativity drizzle down the drain. Writing for kids is helped by getting into a fun headspace. Not always easy to do, it’s true, but any effort to find playful positivity is a step in the right direction.
• But don’t ignore the negativity. Just because you’re writing for children doesn’t mean you have to always be in a fun headspace. The things that drive us nuts or make us mad are fodder for comedy. They need to be molded into hilarity (and to fit the tone of the piece).
• Skip the cynicism and the sarcasm. We don’t have to write for the parents reading the story. If we write genuine, fun, and funny stories that connect with their child, they will love it and will read it again and again. Because they have to.
• When you do repeated passes on a humorous piece, be cautious about changing original jokes from the first draft. Just because it doesn’t feel as funny doesn’t mean it needs to be changed. Remember, we need surprise, and you know what’s in there. Someone who reads that bit for the first time will love it and laugh!
• Don’t write big kid jokes for little kids, and vice-versa. Different aged kids laugh at different things.
• Don’t only watch shows meant for you. Watch shows and read books for all ages, especially the ones you want to write for. It is a requirement for the job. Really. If you’re not interested, you might not be ready to get into the sandbox.

Most Important

Have fun, crack yourself up, and joy will ooze onto the page, likely resulting in your best work. Give yourself permission to get into the mindset of play at every stage, from brainstorming to outline, draft, revision, and second revision. Even when notes are stripping the fun, return to that which makes you laugh. North Star.

BONUS GAME: ABSURD BIRD

• Choose a character from your WIP. If you can’t think of one, choose an unusual bird (one that makes you laugh with their antics!).
• Name them if they don’t have one yet and write it at the top of a blank page.
• Put them in a setting that would be awkward for them. Fish (or bird, as the case may be) out of water style.
• Set the timer for three minutes.
• Release expectations, set aside judgment, prepare for ridiculosity. Remember there are no mistakes with this kind of game—permission to get absurd granted!
• Jot down absurd things that could happen to this bird (or other character) in this place.
• The only rule to follow is to keep the pen going, keep the fingers type-tap-typing.

For example, I am working on a story about a female drummer. Her whole world is her apartment building and school. And her drumkit. I put her on a field trip to the aquarium and set the timer. My absurd findings:

She drums on the glass, gets thrown in aquarium “jail.”

She counts each clown fish to a 2/3 beat; they gather around her and dance to it.

She gets the octopus to drum alongside her in a drummer-duet.

She taps her toes, and an alligator sings a little Dua Lipa back to her.

She gets lost and the janitor asks her to stay put, but she can’t sit still, so she wiggles all the way to a tank of electric eels. They put on a rock show together!

*****

I feel like I have a second story just from playing around, but it makes me want to go back to the last draft and make bold choices.

For more on games and using improv to create comedy writing (or any writing), check out my previous article “Laugh Track” in the July/August 2018 issue of Writer’s Digest.

Click to continue.

The post The First Laugh appeared first on Writer's Digest.

[Scroll to the bottom to see footnotes.]

In other words, humor is delicate stuff, and it’s easy to go wrong. Whether you’re trying to write a humorous story or just inject some levity into a dramatic narrative,^[3] there are many, many more ways to go wrong than right. Humor is subjective, so figuring out why no one’s laughing at your jokes can be a maddening and frustrating process. But a good place to start is to ask yourself: Do you like the things you’re making fun of?

The Mel Brooks Arc

The big mistake people who are actually not very good at being funny make is to assume that humor derives from disdain—that we make fun of the things we despise. This is understandable, because a lot of humor is kind of mean-spirited or predicated on someone else’s misfortune.^[4] The old cliché of someone slipping on a banana peel is the ur-example here: We laugh, at least in part, because someone else has suffered in a ridiculous way. From late-night talk show hosts mocking politicians to your old high school friends making fun of every single thing you do,^[5] humor can be and very often is dark and even cruel.

But that’s really a question of execution—tone and style. The reason your old friends laugh when they see your new haircut is because they have affection for you.^[6] This is because of one simple fact: Humor works better when you know your subject intimately, and that kind of knowledge requires time and dedication—in other words, affection. You have to know your subject really, really well in order to effectively make fun of it, and we usually don’t get too close to things we don’t like and enjoy on some level. That’s why self-deprecating humor works so well: We rarely know a subject better than ourselves.

To demonstrate this, let’s look at the output of a legendary comedian: Mel Brooks. It’s not a stretch to say that Brooks invented the modern film parody with films like Young Frankenstein (a parody of classic Universal horror films from the 1930s) and Blazing Saddles (a parody of classic Westerns), which respectively rock a 94 percent and 90 percent score on Rotten Tomatoes.^[7] Both of those films are still highly regarded and served as the template for later films like Airplane! and even the more recent Scary Movie films. Part of what makes these two films work so well is Brooks’ clear love of the material he’s poking fun at. He clearly knows old horror movies and old westerns, and as a result he has the knowledge to make fun of them effectively. He can find the tiny little details and the common tropes and exploit them for humor.

By contrast, Brooks’ later parodies like Spaceballs (57 percent on Rotten Tomatoes) or Robin Hood: Men in Tights (41 percent) aren’t nearly as successful or as highly regarded, and the reason is clear: He was making fun of things (the Star Wars films, for example) that he didn’t understand or love.^[8] It’s not that his humor turned mean or mocking—mean and mocking can be very funny. It’s that he was no longer making fun of things he knew intimately.

The Inside Track

Effective humor has everything to do with your knowledge of the subject—in order to make fun of something effectively, you have to understand it on a fairly deep level. But the other aspect of effective humor is shared knowledge—your audience has to know as much about your subject as you do, or the jokes will fall flat.^[9]

You can see this in operation with “inside” jokes, those shared jokes you pass back and forth with friends and family and co-workers. Often these jokes are of the “you had to be there” variety, but the point is that “being there” involves intimate knowledge of each other. These jokes are often hilarious to those in the know and completely, bizarrely not funny in any way to anyone on the outside looking in.^[10] The reason they’re funny to you is because you have all the necessary information to see the humor.

If you poke fun at something in your writing that potential readers won’t be familiar with, the jokes simply won’t work. That means you have to put in a bit of side effort to ensure your humor will be effective:

• Education. If the humor will be derived from a universal or widely-shared experience—say, working in an office—you can probably safely assume a large portion of your audience will at least be basically familiar with the aspects you’ll be leveraging for the funny stuff. If you’re going to make fun of something your readers might not be familiar with, though, you’ll need to lace the early going with a crash course so they can get the jokes. For example, in his classic postmodernist novel Infinite Jest,^[11] David Foster Wallace gets a lot of humor out of the main setting of a tennis academy—but he takes care to give the reader a lot of information about what it’s like to play tennis at a high level and attend a program like that, to help them “get” the relatively subtle humor he uses.
• Escalation. Working with humor derived from a subject or circumstance that won’t be immediately familiar to your reader, like an invented organization or maybe even an entire culture in a fantasy novel, you need to warm them up a bit by starting off small and subtle.^[12] This not only gives you time to familiarize your reader with the subject of your jokes, it also eases them into an instinctual understanding of your sense of humor and the aspects of the subject you’ll be poking fun at. Jumping in with a deep, complex meta-joke about a subject you introduced one paragraph ago is not going to work out the way you think it will.
• Permission. It’s often necessary to give your readers permission to laugh at something, to indicate clearly that some aspect of the story is, in fact, a joke. Depending on the overall tone of your book (especially in the early going) and the subject of your humor, it might not be obvious that you are, in fact, joking, so giving the reader the green light to laugh is a useful and sometimes necessary step. This can be accomplished by having a character laugh or otherwise acknowledge the joke or simply via the tone you use in that section. Once you’ve “broken the seal” on the humorous stuff in your story you probably won’t have to do this again—but you shouldn’t hesitate if you think there’s a good reason to repeat the exercise (say, if you shift the tone or style of humor you’re employing).

As a professional writer, remember that it’s your job to entertain, inform, and/or guide your readers^[13]—not to simply amuse yourself.^[14] Ensuring that your audience has the tools and information necessary to “get” your jokes is an absolute necessity.

[Turning the Page Into a Canvas: Helping Readers Visualize Humor]

In On It

Finally, there’s one last aspect of affection that’s required to make your humor really land when you’re making fun of something: bringing your audience inside the circle of trust. You have to make sure your audience understands that you’re not mocking them, even if you are mocking something they very much love and enjoy. Even if you are actually mocking the very people who have been kind enough to take an interest in (and possibly spend money on) your work, you still want them to feel like they’re in on it, like it’s all in good fun.

Again, this requires intimate knowledge. Humor always requires a subject, a target, and even the mildest jokes can bother people if they feel like they’re being othered or excluded. The only way you’re going to avoid insulting folks is to understand very deeply what it is they love about your target in the first place—or, if you’re going to mock them (gently or otherwise), you need to know what are the legitimate targets about them that deserve some mockery. Most of us know we are ridiculous in some ways^[15]; the dividing line between laughing at ourselves and getting angry is that sense that we’re part of the joke, that we’ve been invited to make fun of ourselves.

This requires more than just an academic, or even an experiential, expertise in whatever it is you’re making fun of—it also requires a perspective shift, because people experience, use, and enjoy things in different ways. You might imagine that making fun of something that seems like an easy target—say, a genre of fiction that you find patently silly or pandering—is a slam dunk on the funny meter, but unless you’re actually a fan of that genre yourself you may be painfully and cluelessly unaware of the source of its tropes or the way its themes resonate with people dealing with trauma or angst in their lives. Suddenly what seemed like lighthearted, anodyne humor gets transmogrified into mean-spirited mockery. Not only are you not funny, but you’re actively harmful to boot.

Humor is hard to pull off. It’s easy to miscalculate and offend, irritate, or simply confuse your reader—especially if you’re turning to humor from a negative place and mocking things you dislike or don’t respect. But that kind of easy humor doesn’t always work, because it’s typically shallow and alienating. If you want your readers to be laughing with you, start from a place of knowledge and affection for your subject.^[16]

[1] And as I can sadly attest that being funny by accident is not the superpower you might think it is.

[2] Something I will no doubt prove beyond a shadow of a doubt as these footnotes progress.

[3] If you ever need an example of the Dunning-Kruger Effect, just look for someone who’s pretty sure they’d kill it as a standup comedian.

[4] See: Every single nickname I’ve ever been given throughout my entire life.

[5] Uh … everyone’s old friends do this, right? Oh, god.

[6] This is an entirely random example and has nothing to do with the fact that I spent six years dealing with a cowlick so legendary it was known as The Fin throughout my social circle.

[7] If you have not heard of these films, please imagine the “Matt Damon ages 50 years in Saving Private Ryan” meme here.

[8] Fun fact: Prior to 1977, no one knew what a Star Wars was.

[9] I can have entire, side-splitting conversations with my old high school friends using nothing but “Simpsons” quotes, for example, but when I try this with younger folks I am cruelly mocked. Well, mocked more.

[10] For example, every time I ask my agent about my most recent royalty statements, she just bursts into laughter until I eventually go away.

[11] Someone recently told me they have been reading this doorstopper since 2007, and I immediately and unreservedly believed them.

[12] As a man who has been hitting the same jokes about pantslessness and incompetence since 1995, I think we can all agree I know subtle humor.

[13] Or, if you’re me, occasionally confuse and alarm.

[14] Even if, like me, you are incredibly easy to amuse.

[15] I know what you’re all thinking, and it’s hurtful.

[16] That’s why I usually just make fun of myself in my writing. I’m the foremost expert on Jeff Somers in the world, and I also like myself a lot. Probably a little too much, if these footnotes are any indication.

The post From the Heart appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(4 Tips for Writing a Modern Retelling.)

Not only is Jane Austen known for her sparkling humor and vividly drawn comedic characters, but in Persuasion, her classic tale of second chance romance with all its delicious angst and heart-rending pining, the comedy is a needed counterpoint to two romantic leads who spend a lot of the novel with their heads in the sand. Readers love Anne and Wentworth trying desperately not to make eye contact across a crowded room, but the book wouldn’t be complete without Austenian characters like Anne’s father, who is fond of telling people how much better he’s aging than everyone else—loudly, and repeatedly.

It’s inescapably funny.

There are so many writing guides and seminars devoted to the question of how to write funny; what makes something funny to begin with? Can the slapstick physical comedy of a film be pressed into the pages of a novel without going flat? Can the zingers of a comedic dialogue be as sharp when read silently and heard only in your head? Is comedy innate, or can it be taught?

Well, when tackling the latter bit, the Second City training centers are happy to step in and school any aspiring writer.

It was my mother who pressed me into enrolling, first into their improv class, and then their sketch writing class. The instructors were kind, the classes were fun, but the assignments, as we were slowly coached through them, were mind bending—a series of building blocks, such as character studies, dialogue exercises, and impossible tasks around timing, that only made sense later on when those exercises finally coalesced into scenes. Think of a soccer player drilled endlessly on their footwork before they can even glimpse starring in a game.

We all failed and failed hard at first. Not a single person in our class produced anything remotely funny in the first week, or the second, or even the third. Learning to write in different styles and types of structure can make you feel as awkward and foolish as putting your left shoe on your right foot and then wearing a tea cozy for a hat. (Well, at least at the Second City you wouldn’t stand out for doing just that.)

Check out Melodie Edwards’ Once Persuaded, Twice Shy here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

So when I went to find my funny for Once Persuaded, Twice Shy, I dug out my old notes on the guidelines for writing sketch comedy. Here’s just a few:

• Use the pattern of three, everything’s funnier in threes.
• Establish setting within the first 30 seconds or less. If you’re explaining the scene, you’re not being funny, and you’re chewing up time that could be funny.
• Establish characters with distinct personalities. All the better if they clash!
• Start with low stakes, then escalate. Escalate again. Keep escalating—hey look, a pattern of three!
• Ensure that you include characters of high value, and low. (Value denotes their self-confidence, assurance, and control of the scene)

While this was intended for a sketch format, I decided to translate some of it to my novel.

Alright, I thought, start with characters with distinct personalities. Better if they clash.

My heroine Anne is professional, diplomatic, restrained, and always polite. She just wants everything to run smoothly. Therefore, her assistant Emmie, a secondary character, is blunt, unfiltered, and rabidly enthusiastic about firing people. Her favorite show is Game of Thrones.

Anne would probably offer you a soothing chamomile tea. Emmie would gladly bring a live dragon to work. Their conversations immediately became funny (at least to me!).

Start with low stakes: In the very first chapter they can’t agree on how to handle a misbehaving diva in their theatre company. Anne calmly negotiates. Emmie gleefully threatens.

Escalate: They disagree on best methods for controlling a rogue animal at an autumnal festival, and whether military-grade equipment is an appropriate aide or is just overdoing it.

Then just keep on escalating: Towards the climax of the book a fist-fight breaks out, in which the fate of their theatre company, Anne’s love life, and the well-being of their entire town is to be decided. Anne hesitates on how/if they should break the fight up. Emmie tries to film it for the company newsletter.

I was gleeful writing that last scene. I unashamedly guffawed at my own writing, while crossing my fingers that my readers would enjoy it just as much. And perhaps that’s the most important thing I had learned at the Second City, though I’d neglected to put it in my notes—comedy writing should be fun. It takes practice, it takes work and finagling and revising, but in the end it should be fun.

Can you make yourself laugh? Then you’ve got a better chance your audience will be laughing too.  

The post How to Bring the Funny: From Second City Classes to Novel Writing appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Humor in poetry dates back millennia. Even Homer’s Iliad includes physical comedy, flippant quips, and sick burns (“You spellbinder! You sack of wind!”). The silliness and whimsy that saturate the verses of Shel Silverstein is a huge part of his appeal, and it’s one reason many young writers gravitate to poetry in the first place. Even the lighthearted levity of a rollicking limerick appeals to people who wouldn’t describe themselves as particularly fond aficionados of formal lyric verse.

(Plotters vs. Pantsers in Poetry.)

While not every poem needs to be funny, it can be helpful to consider opportunities to inject levity, or undercut solemnity, or balance a weighty subject. It can also be useful to think about methods for mimicking the structure of a joke, regardless of tone, style, or substance. As poet and professor Michael Theune describes in his influential textbook, Structure & Surprise: Engaging Poetic Turns, successful poems rely on a variety of “turns,” so that lyrics unfold in ways that are both unexpected, and yet perfectly fitting. In this way, we can think of poems as including a number of “punchlines,” regardless of affective intent.

Jokes and their underlying structures feature prominently in my debut book of poems, Yaguareté White. While I hope readers find some of the poems amusing, I’m also interested in the ways humor can mask underlying pain, deception, discomfort, and secrets. In that spirit, here are five ways to play with humor, whether simply for laughs, or as part of a nuanced approach to broadening your poetic purview.

1. Give it character

Poets are quick to differentiate between the speaker of a poem and the writer who composed the piece. (“The speaker isn’t the poet! Except when she is! But even then…”) And while we often refer to speakers and personae, we don’t always think of the other people in poems as characters, per se. But poets can learn from fiction writers in that regard, by creating a foil or mouthpiece or Mary Sue (a stand-in for the author) who can voice ideas or opinions that might not be quite right for the speaker of a poem.

One example occurs in Deaf Republic, the second book by Ukrainian-born poet Ilya Kaminsky, who invents the town of Vasenka. When a deaf child is killed by enemy soldiers, the townspeople also go deaf, and Kaminsky uses the character of Momma Galya to rile up readers. In the poem, “When Momma Galya First Protested,” we get an immediate sense for the kind of character she is:

Later, Momma Galya cajoles:

Deafness isn’t an illness! It’s a sexual position!

Momma Galya’s outspoken confrontations serve as a stark counterpoint to the book’s predominant tone of careful solemnity and unpredictable timeliness. It would be a different book entirely had Kalinsky chosen to write exclusively from the first-person perspective. Writing a memorable character can add new dimensions to a poem and expand a poet’s repertoire of tools.

2. Call out the small moments

When sketching ideas for a new poem, I can be quick to dismiss small moments or passing interactions that I (wrongly) believe don’t rise to the high standard of lyric. But there’s no occasion too mundane or everyday that poetry can’t liven it up with amusing commentary on the human condition. Certainly, amid the never-ending onslaught of emojis and notifications, poets must be well-equipped to remark on today’s fluid technoscape.

A standout example occurs in Tracy Fuad’s “Body of Water 2,” which finds a speaker trapped in that quintessentially post-COVID conundrum of fumbling Zoom etiquette:

I silenced my phone

I willed myself ill

I unmuted myself on the call, but when the goldenrod box appeared around my face
I found I couldn’t speak

And finally someone else piped in to tell the speaker she was muted

Here, a shrugging sense of bemusement strikes twice: once, in the all too relatable dilemmas so many of us face in navigating technical difficulties, and again with a clever reference to a speaker who is muted. Like Fuad, you should take advantage of minor incidents and silly snafus by highlighting the absurdity (or stupidity! or serendipity!) of otherwise unremarkable events.

Check out Diego Báez’s Yaguareté White here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

3. Go meta

Poets have an especially high tolerance for winks, elbow nudges, and nods to the reader. Some people find that obnoxious. We call it art. Even so, poets should take care when approaching the fourth wall before busting it down, as too much cutesy self-consciousness can exhaust even the most tolerant readers among us.

One way to acknowledge the audience without annoying them is to layer in multiple forms of humor before piercing the proverbial veil. A poem by Benjamín Naka-Hasebe Kingsley, “small talk or in my hand galaxies,” achieves this balance in its opening lines, which depict the aftermath of a vehicle break-in:

it looks like the thief rocketed
their whole self through
the bull’s eye of my driver’s side door
and you’re not wrong to expect
the old joke about there being
nothing in my car worth the thieving
or maybe i’ve caught you eye rolling
please god not another
poem about windows

Here, the humor works in a few ways. First, the image of a vandal throwing themselves entirely through the car door is visually amusing. Secondly, Kingsley evokes the “old joke” about items in the car not worth the effort of stealing, but rather than simply deliver it, he places it in the imagined expectations of the reader, a first nod our way. Lastly, Kingsley playfully accuses the reader of rolling their eyes in anticipation of “another / poem about windows.” The multiple layers of humor amplify the direct address.

Don’t get too cute with meta-commentary, but don’t shy away from it either.

4. Don’t be afraid of the dark

By definition, dark humor makes light of uncomfortable, taboo, and despicable subjects. For that reason, it won’t be for everybody. But when employed with careful intention, dark humor can function as an entry point into topics a poet might be unwilling to write about in other ways. A recent example occurs in Melissa Lozada-Oliva’s “Dreaming of You,” in which the speaker admits:

My biggest fear is getting raped and murdered
then getting ripped
to shreds on the internet

To be clear, the speaker’s fear of sexual assault and death isn’t funny. Nor do I believe the poet intends to make light of such violent threats. Of course not. But by pairing a legitimate fear of horrific violence with an equally legitimate, if arguably less severe, fallout from online bullying, the poem juxtaposes traumas of categorically different magnitudes in a way that undercuts the “insult” added to “injury.” It’s not funny or humorous or really even amusing, but the ironic distance of its darkness lends the poem another dimension for us to consider.

Another well-known example is Patricia Lockwood’s courageous and devastating “Rape Joke,” which processes a sexual assault by ascribing the characteristics of the perpetrator to the joke itself: “the rape joke is that he worshiped The Rock.” It’s unspeakably powerful for a poet to unpack such a heavily freighted experience as this. And it can be liberating to harness the power of humor to re-frame, reclaim, or diffuse traumatic events. And, as Lockwood concluded after her poem went viral online, how you approach seriously painful topics is up to you: “You don’t ever have to write about it. But if you do, you can write about it any way you want.”

5. Tease the sacred, embrace the profane

Ages before English Johns (Milton and Donne) set late Renaissance literature alight with bawdy provocations and metaphysical reconsiderations, poets had long become comfortable pirouetting atop the line that demarcates the sacred and profane. Today, readers of poetry have become accustomed to crossing the line between taboo and off-color topics, to the extent that we’ve almost been conditioned to expect it.

One way to titillate readers is to take an otherwise revered object or “thing” (as in the example below) and desecrate it. A clever, delightfully irreverent instance of this plays out in “The Pope’s Penis” by Sharon Olds, which depicts the papal member as hanging “deep in his robes, a delicate / clapper at the center of a bell.” Olds adds to the apropos imagery by further describing it as “a ghostly fish in a / halo of silver seaweed.” Finally, at night:

while his eyes sleep, it stands up
in praise of God.

It’s an undeniably funny image, one readers perhaps never expected to imagine. And yet, here we are: kindly considering an old man’s erection.

Another way to thread an edge of profanity into your poetry is through well-timed, intentional use of good old-fashioned swear words. These can be terribly effective, whether used in careful measure, as in the singular uses of “fuck” and “bullshit” in Allen Ginsberg’s seminal “Howl” (a poem downright drowning in provocative content), or deployed in copious abundance, as in Ariel Francisco’s “They Built a Margaritaville on Hollywood Beach Which Was Once My Favorite Place in the World and Now I Can’t Go Back Because It’s Unrecognizable So Fuck Jimmy Buffett”: “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.”

Don’t fear curse words. Recite them! Dance wildly around the cauldron of poetic incantation! Hex your readers with humor!

The post 5 Tips for Incorporating Humor Into Your Poetry appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Why do we universally appreciate slapstick, sight gags, and cartoons? Because they are visual—the humor unfolds right before our eyes.

As writers, we have a unique challenge—to craft worlds, including humorous ones, using only words. We, a cartoonist and psychologist, present techniques from our fields to help writers make humor writing more visual, effectively showing readers the funny.

As we discuss ways to strengthen print humor, we remain mindful of E. B. White’s observation, “Humor can be dissected, as a frog can, but the thing dies in the process …” Our succinct dissection focuses on ways to spark readers’ imaginations while ensuring the survival of humor and the frog.

Know Your Audience

The comedian Steven Wright pondered, “If you tell a joke in the forest but nobody laughs, was it a joke?” We say “no.” Humor that is not accessible to your audience is akin to that unheard joke in the forest. And that’s neither fun nor funny.

There are numerous theories about what makes people laugh, many of which revolve around psychological concepts like incongruity and superiority. The only common denominator is that funny is subjective and relative, so it’s essential to tailor humor to your specific audience.

Writing humor requires you to walk in your readers’ shoes, anticipating how they will perceive and construct the humor you are creating. Understanding the potential readership is critical to ensure your humor doesn’t fly over their heads. Or under.

The audience dictates every aspect of your humor writing, from word choices and phrasing to the gags themselves. For instance, writing a piece for The New Yorker requires a different brand of humor compared to MAD Magazine. Constantly tuning into your readers’ perspective can help you sidestep the dreaded “It’s just not right for us” rejection.

A comedic awareness of the readership will point you in the right direction, whether you are crafting a one-liner, a blog post, or a more extended piece. The following principles can help make your writing more vibrant, entertaining, and appealing.

Show, Don’t Tell: The Metaphorical Paintbrush

At first glance, writers and cartoonists have vastly different toolboxes and skill sets. But if you look closely, you will notice similar devices, such as exaggeration, contrast, and simplification. Before we delve into these techniques, it’s essential to cultivate the right mindset for writing humor that readers can easily visualize.

Think of humor writing as painting by numbers. You, the writer, sketch an outline, and the reader uses their imagination to fill in the details and bring out the humor. Your challenge is to provide enough information to guide readers in conceptualizing and understanding the intended humor.

Vague references can be difficult to imagine and leave too much to readers’ guesswork. But descriptive language—complete with sensory details, actions, reactions, and consequences—makes it easier for readers to understand what you’re getting at while creating a humorous scene in their minds.

Here’s an example. Instead of writing, “Julie was nervous before her speech,” you could try something more descriptive: “As she approached the podium, Julie’s off-white blouse darkened with pit stains, as she stumbled on the steps, quickly grabbing the ruby-red stage curtains to prevent her fall from becoming an Instagram sensation.”

And don’t forget about wordplay, similes, and metaphors. They can help you craft memorable, expressive characters with amusing traits, quirks, and physicality. For example, you might describe a character’s irritating laugh as “worse than a honking goose scraping its beak across a blackboard,” a vivid, funny image for readers.

Specific references can help prompt visualization. For instance, a melting SNICKERS bar triggers a more precise image than a generic “candy bar.” But again, ensure your reader will understand any concrete examples, emphasizing the importance of knowing your audience. How many readers would know that a Charleston Chew or Chick-O-Stick are candy bars and not vulgar slang terms from Urban Dictionary?

Simplification: Less Is Funnier

In many literary forms, embellishment enriches a piece. That’s not true for humor writing – humor can get lost with too much detail. It’s like looking for that joke in a forest—if you can’t find it, there’s no funny.

Just as a cartoonist simplifies a drawing to avoid detracting from the humor, you too must simplify your writing. Adding a bit of shading will give depth to an illustration, yet there’s usually no need to detail every feature. A good cartoon, or print piece, lets the reader connect the dots and experience that lightbulb eureka moment.

Beginning writers tend to fluff up humor with needless details, overwhelming the humor and rendering scenes and characters unrecognizable. Overloading a humor piece with information is like smothering the funny with a pillow filled with words.

There’s a thin line between lame and funny, and the difference often lies in whether a writer adheres to the universal comedic principle, “less is funnier.” By simplifying complex situations, characters, plots, and reactions, your work becomes more digestible and humorous. That’s why the final step of humor writing, aggressive editing, is key to creating hilarious material.

Exaggeration: Be the Funniest Humorist in History

Exaggeration is the Silly Putty of humor writing. You start with a realistic scenario, then bend and distort it for humorous effect. Exaggeration is one of the most straightforward and effective comedic tools, and it appears in all types of humor: Cartoonists magnify physical features, impressionists exaggerate speech mannerisms, and writers embellish language.

As a humor writer, don’t shy away from every chance to stretch the truth, whether by understatement or overstatement. In most circumstances, unmitigated exaggeration is viewed as lying. In humor, clever embellishment is rewarded with laughter.

You can inject hyperbole into your characters, reactions, and situations to amplify the humor. For instance, you might write, “Julie is so indecisive that when she goes sailing, her boat goes in circles.” The description instantly paints a clear and humorous picture in your reader’s mind.

Effective humor is truth based, so it’s critical to strike a balance between realism and exaggeration. The following Jeff Altman gag works because it evokes a relatable, albeit somewhat plausible, image.

My dad’s pants kept creeping up on him. By 65, he was just a pair of pants and a head.

If there’s anything instinctual about humor writing, it’s avoiding too much distortion—simply being ludicrous or audacious won’t work. The relationship between exaggeration and realism in humor is like stretching a rubber band. A little stretching, even repeated stretching, is no problem. However, overstretching the band will cause it to break, as well as the humor and the reader’s trust.

Obscenities and graphic language are also forms of exaggeration. As humorists, we recognize the comedic power of “stepping over the line.” Yet, there’s a time and place for shock humor, and that’s not a @#$&ing exaggeration.

Contrast: Juxtaposing for Fun

Contrasting is the juxtaposition of elements not customarily coupled, a technique that cartoonists use to create humorous mismatches by placing significantly different elements side by side. Cartooning contrasts range from simple ones, such as someone wearing a tuxedo to a picnic, to elaborate juxtaposing, like Moses leaving the mountain top with the 10 Commandments on a ski lift.

Juxtaposition begins with humor’s two most important words: What if? Let’s say you need humor for a piece about a protagonist going to traffic court. You begin by exploring possibilities without worrying about pushing the envelope. What if the character was a pet watcher and needed to bring three dogs to court? What if it was pigs? Keep asking yourself, “What if?” to create as many contrasts to characters and situations as possible.

Cartoonists have greater latitude in using absurd contrasts, like a judge yelling “Order, order!” because of three squealing pigs. Yet, as writers, we can still use juxtaposition to brainstorm new humor angles and create funny mismatches.

Contrasting also works with emotional tone. For instance, you might use a dramatic scene to set up a gag and then quickly switch to a lighthearted tone for the punchline. Richard Pryor often started a comedic piece with a tragic event, like a heart attack or self-immolation, then switched gears to an absurdist tone to make the humor potent and memorable.

Incongruity, satire, and irony are just contrasting mismatches between expectations and what happens. You create surprising, humorous twists by comparing or contrasting different ideas, things, or situations.

Aggressive Editing: The Samurai Humorist

Crafting humor requires extensive rewriting. Lots. As Carolyn Janice Cherry astutely noted, “It is perfectly OK to write garbage—as long as you edit brilliantly.”

When you’re writing humor, your first draft can be as long as you like. There is no censorship during brainstorming, just a playful, uninhibited creation of ideas.

But in the second draft, eliminate every nonessential phrase and cut out every superfluous word by the final draft. Just as no machine has needless parts, no good humor piece should have unnecessary elements. Your mantra should be: “Make every word work.”

During editing, also make sure not to reveal keywords in the setup and always save the funniest idea or word for the end. Precision, brevity, and holding the surprise will make your humor more enjoyable.

Aggressive editing is time-consuming and, at times, frustrating—you will discard most of the items you begin with. But your material will be considerably funnier if you embrace being a samurai editor and ruthlessly cut material that doesn’t resonate with the readers, advance the story, or stay true to character voices.

Conclusion

Humor is at its funniest when it’s visual, and writers can craft more humorous material by employing the same techniques used by cartoonists, such as vivid descriptions, symbolic language, and imagery. By thinking and writing visually, you can show the funny to readers.

Click to continue. 

The post Turning the Page Into a Canvas appeared first on Writer's Digest.