The Blues

On occasion, people have said that I write humourously, with all the extra vowels it entails.  It’s from this compliment that I broach this post – not that I think myself funny or laugh at my own jokes, LOL – simply that I’ve been told that some things I write make readers giggle.

With the preface of ‘I aint no humour writing expert’ out of the way, I want to talk about penning funny things.

Humour is such a subjective quantity.  While you/we/I might write a piece that’s filled with pathos and tragedy that will definitely elicit sadness in 95 % of readers, a slice of humourous writing may fall flat on its face.  Sure, we could argue that the sorrowful story might cause some people to cry but could turn other’s in to nausea-filled misanthropes, but the majority of readers will be touched in some way.

Trying to evoke a humourous response is that much more difficult.  *coughs*.  (Not really if I’m arguing rationally, but the point of this post is to demonstrate how difficult it is to stimulate the funny bone via words).

Consider:  finding something funny involves being in the right mood, having an open mind on any particular day, living free from diabolical stresses and possessing an ability to laugh at SELF (which is often quite confronting).

Something I may find extremely funny may cause other readers to be gagged with corn.  Or offended by political incorrectness or spasm a large intestine due to the groan of slapstick.  Okay, you’re right.  Slapstick is probably not read in a book, but you know what I mean.

(By the way, if you Google the question ‘Can slapstick be written’, you will get a wonderful Wiki reference to Kurt Vonnegut’s 1976 work).

Writing humourously is not easy.  Yes, yes I know that writing great, emotionally exhausting drama is not easy either, but give this post a break here!   I showed a funny piece of writing to a friend one time – I only call it funny because it had been described as such by 5.5 other people.  The 0.5 quantity is my mum.  She is a whole person but I have entered her as half here as she has to say it was funny.  She’s my mum.  I think she loves me.

Anyhoo, this friend of mine – on reading the 5.5 approved ‘funny piece’ – said ‘you need to write more deeply.  Do something profound!  You sound too . . .too . . . glib, and no one likes glib!’

The other thing about trying to write humourously is that everyone thinks you’re a HAHA person and you have no feelings. “HoHo! (with emphasis on the HO)  She’ll laugh it off.  Give her the truth and she’ll come back with a half-cocked, hilarious response!’ And people wonder why many of the world’s comedians are/were clinically depressed . . .?

It’s not because they receive feedback like this, of course.  That was my attempt at politically incorrect mental health humour – but we’ll come back to this another day.  There is nothing funny about poor mental health.

In light of what my friend said about glibness, it might seem feasible that I would seek to change the genre I prefer to write.  Sometimes I do.  It’s lovely to write with a bit of pathos and soul-seeking earnestness.   However! True comedic writing – in its purest, cleverest, wonderful form – is an art in itself.  As I mentioned early on, I don’t ever propose to be an exponent of this writing, but it’s important for people (ie: my friend) to appreciate that comedic prose is as difficult to pen as drama, science fiction, historical accounts or biography.

It’s just different.  No more work, no less.  Just words and emotion playing with a different part of your brain!  If you have one (boom, boom, tish!)

ZOMG! The Northern Fangirls is due out by the end of February.  It is the third novel in the Fangirl series by Rosie Jones.  Fangirls is not meant to be a  glib story.

Random Reads

• May 6, 2011 -- Evolution
• July 4, 2011 -- On Dad’s Watch
• November 20, 2009 -- To Market, To Market
• May 23, 2010 -- Creative Writing and Obsessions
• December 26, 2011 -- The Power and the Passion