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To be fair, I don’t really consider myself a humor writer. I’m more like a half-assed blogger whose personal dysfunction makes people laugh out loud in airports, coffee shops, and cubicles. (Wow. It’s actually kind of sad when you think of it like that.) Whatever. Here I am, contributing to a series on humor writing – so, for today, let’s pretend that I’m a humorous writer, sharing the secret formula to being hilarious.
Get ready for it. Pretty sure I’m about to blow your mind…
Paul Angone All Groan Up
I can’t force funny. Like trying to trim the nails of an alley cat, every time I try and make funny do exactly as I say, I get clawed.
When I write, my core goal is not to be funny; my goal is to tell the truth in an entertaining way. If that happens by way of funny, then hot damn! Call me a blend of Owen Wilson and Conan O’Brien in blog form. I won’t stop you.
Even though I try not to force funny, when analyzing my writing process, I definitely employ some strategies (daresay, commandments) to allow funny the space to breathe—if it in fact wishes to come to life.
Writers read to expand their knowledge on different writing styles and patterns of other writers, established or not. It has been a constant reminder to writers to keep reading and reading something does not necessarily mean it has to be finished.
I can no longer remember the very first time I picked up a book and just sat down and read but I do remember the complete set of colorful picture storybooks my parents bought for me when I was a child. Those were my first books.
Yesterday, I came across a job for a writer on Craigslist. The headline read, “Need help from a writer for my manuscript.” It was a cry of desperation. They couldn’t finish editing it, the ad read. They were exhausted and needed help.
It struck a chord with me. A part of me was dying to respond to the ad, not with a helping hand but rather a kind word to the writer. I wanted to remind her to keep going and to not give up. I wanted to tell her: yes, you can do it. You can finish your novel.
I always feel a little inadequate when I approach the end of these contests. Month after month, we’ve had the most amazing stories sent to us. You all are such good writers, and the stories you send us are a delight to read.
And then we have to pick just one of them.
I often wonder, “Who am I to judge these stories?” But choose we must, and all I can ask for is forgiveness if we have offended or chosen poorly. Please know, we are trying quite hard.
PRACTICE
Write about Spain.
Write for fifteen minutes. When you’re finished, post your practice in the comments.
And if you post, make sure to comment on a few others.
A few years ago I was heading for Hollywood. My script had found its way into the hands of actors Jack Lemmon and Eva Marie Saint. Everyone loved it. Then, one of them, Jack or Eva, killed it. My story, they said, “devolved into melodrama.”
I retreated, determined to discover why fiction flops, and more importantly, “how fiction works.” And I did. I tell the story in a new eBook, “STORY STRUCTURE TO DIE FOR.”
As you may or may not know, storytelling as an industry—or set of industries—is going through something of a crisis.
It began with music. The internet destabilized the despotic grasp record companies held on the business. Then blogging and Craigslist combined to displace thousands of jobs in journalism. Now, the conflict has turned to publishing, and icons like Seth Godin are saying writers might not deserve to get paid anymore.
A lot of people say they don’t get poetry.
But what’s to get?
Poetry is an experience to enjoy in the same way music is an experience to enjoy.
Dear Resistance,
I have known you all my life. You haunt me with every breath. I’m sick of the voices that feed me doubts and distractions. The constant fears and hesitations you cause are worse than nails on a chalkboard.
Your deception is often disguised as beauty. One moment you are a cup of coffee, or four seconds later a shiny new guitar. You know how to use a beautiful song or amazing speech to make me feel even more insecure.
