"Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but the thing
dies in the process and the innards are discouraging to any but the pure
scientific mind."
E. B. White said that. And although it’s not very funny, it
is informative. What it means is this—attempting to explain humor, especially
how it pertains to writing prose, is a dumb idea. Apparently that’s why I’m
here, attempting to answer the age old question: If a tree slips on a banana
peel and falls in the forest, and no one is around to experience it, is it still
funny?
The answer, in case you’re short on either time or patience
is a resounding maybe.
Writing funny is more about being funny, or at least
thinking funny, than anything having to do with craft. When we say someone has
a good sense of humor, what we’re referring to is this person’s ability to experience humor. And just like a good tango or a pot of tea,
it takes two.
Here’s how it works. Someone recognizes the potential for
humor, then expresses it in a potentially funny way. When a different someone
observes this ostensibly humorous event, an involuntary reconciliation
transpires. If Person B finds Person A’s juxtaposition of ideas amusing, then
humor has indeed occurred. Next, a series of mysterious vibrations will begin
to assault the muscles that guard Person B’s giggle box. In musical terms, this
technical explanation can be reduced to: “The brain bone’s connected to
the…funny bone. And the funny bone’s connect to the…bone that allows milk to
shoot through your nostrils…”
A few practical points to consider:
Humor cannot be taught…
But it can be coached…only if the raw material is
there. Phil Jackson may not be able to turn you into Michael Jordan, but he can
certainly improve your jump shot and weak side defense. A sense of humor can be
developed, honed, and/or coaxed out of hiding. Chances are, you’ll never do
stand-up on the Letterman show, but you can (and should) elicit a few satisfied
grins from your readers. It just takes practice. And the best way to exercise
your humor muscles is develop the habit of finding the funny in all situations.
Humor is rife with conflict…
Conflict is the lifeblood of fiction. Without constant
tension and repose, our stories go down like a warm glass of dirty motor oil.
So when some writing expert suggests you spice up your writing with humor, what
they may be saying is that the conflict
in your story needs a little variety.
John Vorhaus (The Comic Toolbox) boils it down to this: Comedy
is truth and pain. From pies-in-the-face to
traveling salesman jokes to nearly every greeting card you pick up, the
underlying themes are the truth (shared humiliation, thwarted desire, the
plight of living in a fallen world, etc.) and the pain that results. It’s been
argued that all humor is laced with hostility. Does this mean that humor is
somehow bad or inherently mean? I don’t think so. But just like a dominant
chord in music, a humorous set-up begs for resolution. All good prose can be
broken down into bite-sized chunks of escalating conflict and resolution (not
unlike The Story, eh?). Discord
keeps the pages turning. Done well, resolution breeds resonance. And resonance
is what makes our stuff worth reading.
Humor is part of a well-balanced diet…
Comic novelists serve up humor as a main course, like a big
slab of sizzling protein or a bloated baked potato. Most of the rest of us will
use it as a garnish, a zest, a light dusting of spices, maybe a complementary
cappuccino or the strawberries on our shortcake.
Moderation is key. Comedic abstinence can render an
otherwise savory dish into a bland, soggy cracker. Likewise, you want to avoid
inflicting literary Heimlich on your readers by gagging them with funny bones.
My personal recipe calls for three parts pathos for every
one part humor. I really like it when people say my books make them laugh and
cry on the same page.
Trying to be funny doesn’t work…
When you catch yourself wielding your comic shoehorn…stop.
There’s nothing less funny than someone trying to be funny. It’s transparent
and phony, and over the course of a novel, can really turn readers off. The
best approach is to create a healthy, nurturing environment that invites your
budding sense of humor to bloom organically. Humor should emerge from your
authorial voice, not the other way around.
Humor requires risk…
Armed with only a microphone, stand-up comics take the stage
nightly and dare people not to laugh at what they have to say. They risk public
humiliation by staring down hecklers and drunks and all manner of apathetic
patrons. When the writer injects humor and it doesn’t work for whatever reason,
the humiliation may be less immediate, but no less devastating to his art.
Humor is in the eye of the beholder…
Some people prefer blue to yellow, Toyota to Ford, or Almond
Joy to Mounds. But does that automatically make those brain dead, tasteless
cretins who actually enjoy coconut any
less right? Morally inferior? Criminal?
I say, “Probably so.”
But more importantly, whether someone gets what you’ve
written or not, doesn’t make it any less amusing. Some of the funniest things
I’ve ever written have fallen flat. But they made me happy.
Only the truth is funny…
That is the title of a one-man show by Rick Reynolds. And
although it may not be technically accurate, it’s definitely worth thinking
about for a little while.
***
Michael Snyder writes. He is the author of the novels My Name Is Russell Fink and Return Policy, both (at least according to his mother and his publisher) are worthy of your time, attention, and hard-earned dollars. Michael’s debut novel was a finalist in Christianity Today’s 2009 Book of the Year Award. His short story entitled Normal People will appear in the upcoming issue of Relief: A Quarterly Christian Expression. Michael is also a regular contributor for the Master’s Artist. For the record, Michael prefers dark chocolate to either Almond Joy or Mounds. And he’s really not sorry about the dissing coconut lovers either.
This essay originally appeared at the blog, Novel Journey, and is reprinted here by the author's (that's me!) permission.
Really, all you have to do is watch people. People crack me up.
Posted by: Heather | April 29, 2010 at 09:40 AM
"Only the truth is funny" - I don't think a truer (or funnier?) word has been spoken...
:)
Posted by: Madison Richards | April 30, 2010 at 04:15 AM