Today’s blog post is no joke. It’s only about telling jokes—we’re going to touch on comedic writing today.
I’ve been told I’m funny, both as a person and in my writing. Do I think of myself as a funny person? No. But I can be funny. (Once, when told I was funny, I replied “not on purpose”. They considered that another joke and I got more laughs.)
Of course, in-person funniness is arguably more context than anything else—the atmosphere, the conversation prior, the level of intimacy/closeness, amount of people, and so on. (Also things like intoxication level.) Ever had that moment where someone says something objectively not funny, but everyone laughs anyway, because of whatever reason? Or just getting caught up in shared giggle fits?
It’s very different than writing comedy.
I took my first stab at writing an actual try-to-be-consistently-funny story last year. It was a fanfiction for the video game series Mass Effect, and had a very romcom slant, which I think helped (though I also dislike writing romance). Most of the comedy was based on alien biology and embarrassment—though not secondhand embarrassment, because that shit can kill.
I think the worldbuilding-as-comedy helped a lot. I’m not sure if it counts as a crutch, exactly, or if it was just an idea that struck me and any other kind of idea like that could also happen. I don’t know a lot about the science of comedy outside the fact that I used to be a nervous giggler. I don’t know a lot about the norms, terms, genres, or anything else. I just tried to be funny. A lot.
And based on reviews, I think I overall succeeded? It was comedy based on the premise of the story—what if an alien companion was hearing another alien companion completely differently than everyone else was, because alien biology—and ongoing situations. It wasn’t laugh-laugh-laugh, as there were glimmers of plot and a few heavier canon plot things I had to address, but I’m proud of it as “a funny project”.
I’m not an expert, and I’m not saying you can’t do dry humor, or gallows humor, or dark humor, etc—but it was far easier to write funny things based on lighter, fluffier fare. (It also helped that the main POV was emotionally constipated and thus very easy to tease.)
Humor is always hit or miss; some people will find some things funny, and not others. But I think lighter humor is probably the easiest entrance into writing comedy. Dark and bleak humor are more reliant on the situation, and they’re not for every audience. Romcoms are popular for a reason, on the other hand, even if they’re usually seen as “chick flicks”. They sell and it’s a cultural mainstay for a reason.
Here are a few tips and tricks to writing humor, inasmuch as I can actually do it myself. Maybe it can help at least a little!
Alright, straight-up, one of my favorite methods of joke delivery is the brick joke. This means that you set something up—not always something funny initially, though it can definitely be funny on its own—and the punchline is way later. Ideally, the audience doesn’t forget about it, so it’s either memorable or easy to recognize. (Not to be confused with a callback.)
Related to that is the running gag. This means it’s a joke that’s repeated, either meant to be funny consistently, or funny because it’s repeated so many times. This one is exceptionally hit-or-miss, because the same amount of repetition that one reader finds side-splitting can have another rolling their eyes and making a disgusted noise. You can mix up the running gag, mess with the timing of it, or change the tone of it to spice things up. Repetition is good only when you know how to use it, after all, and that applies to all of it, not just the comedic bits.
Another type of joke that can work well is a plot twist joke. Or, as popularized by the meme, Expectation vs Reality. The reader would be expecting something else, so you hit them with something surprising, shocking, or any shade of unexpected; that little bit of off-kilter can help you land the joke. No one likes predictable punchlines, after all, so go the extra mile.
Another route to consider for humor—rather than in-narrative jokes, humor in dialogue, or situational things, what about your characters themselves?
The TV show Brooklyn-99 has a varied main cast and they all bring different types of humor into it. Terry is often a case of unexpected humor—he’s a physically imposing, high-ranking Black man, and he gets jokes about writing fanfic for Madam Secretary and how he speaks in third person for emphasis. Amy is a nerdy, high-strung overachiever. So a lot of her jokes are either leaning into her nerdiness in surprising ways—like getting turned on by good binder organization, or acting like a catty Mean Girls character when someone else doesn’t understand the highly specific jargon she does (and assumes others do).
And then there’s Captain Raymond Holt—who shares a humor archetype with another beloved favorite character of mine, Dorothy Zbornak: the deadpan snarker.
Snark is often synonymous with sarcasm, and it is a pretty close cousin. But add in deadpan deliver? It’s a masterpiece when done well.
Of course, both Captain Holt and Dorothy are part of visual mediums (TV shows), because a flat stare often tells a story of its own. But it can be done in writing, too. You’ll have to be more careful to build up a character’s flat affect and deadpan tendencies, but contrast is key; pairing them up with louder, more colorful, or more emotive characters works wonders. (Also shown in both shows mentioned, too.) I’d say it’s rarely as effective without the visual medium, just because humans love facial expressions so much and react more to them versus ingested words. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be done!
But, of course, since books aren’t a visual medium—we have an advantage or two of our own.
The fact that there isn’t any visual or auditory parts to reading a novel can be a great advantage, if you know how to work it. (This is true for any part of writing, not just humor!) This is a section where I can’t offer much advice, since it’s difficult to find examples outside of the one above, but it’s a very specific advantage that you can’t replicate in a TV show, for example. So while it is fun to daydream away about how your story will be adapted and you’ll get to professionally drool over the casting choices of your hot characters, keep in mind that it’s your story, first and foremost. Use it to your maximum benefit.
