(How to Write Funny Dialogue.)

Writing jokes is the most fun thing in the world. It is also excruciating torture. In other words: It’s writing. But the difference between joke writing and non-joke writing, is that joke writing is held to an incredibly high standard: It has to make you laugh. If you don’t literally lose control of your physical body’s reaction to the joke, then that joke hasn’t done its job. While you can enjoy a tearjerker that produces no tears, a horror novel that doesn’t make you actually scream, or erotica that doesn’t automatically bring you to climax, nobody is in the market for humor that doesn’t make you laugh.

The high pressure on humor writing means high pressure on humor writers. Too much pressure to rely purely on those moments of inspiration when a great idea or a hilarious joke suddenly appears in your head, as if it was a gift from the Idea Fairy in exchange for your tooth (the Idea Fairy also wants teeth, she just doesn’t always wait for them to fall out naturally). How often does brilliance strike you spontaneously? If you’re anything like me, a professional joke writer, very rarely. The better option for a joke writer is to develop a deliberate, step-by-step writing process. I call mine “joke farming.”

I’ll admit, there are few less fun phrases in the English language than “deliberate writing process.” Maybe “multi-day colonoscopy,” but just barely. But I’ve found that the time I put into developing a repeatable, deliberate joke process has meant exponentially more ability to craft jokes on demand, when I need them, and exponentially less time waiting for inspiration to strike. It’s easy to feel blocked when you’re waiting for an idea to hit you. It’s harder to feel blocked when you have a step-by-step process to lead you out of the wilderness and onto the path to a joke. Just think about how much easier it is to assemble Ikea furniture when you use the instructions. But unlike the furniture, the jokes you write will survive multiple moves.

My personal joke farming process is an attempt to imitate the steps my brain goes through unconsciously in those times when inspiration does hit. After all, it’s not really the Idea Fairy giving me those ideas, it’s the strange, shadowy, secretive back half of my brain. My brain must have its own method of coming up with jokes, so I tried to reverse-engineer it into a process the public, cooperative, front half of my brain can work through. Basically, you can break my process down into three big steps.

1. Figure Out the Point of the Joke

Every joke, like every piece of writing, is trying to communicate something: a feeling, an idea, an experience, a message. Before I can write a joke, I need to know just what it is that I’m trying to communicate through it. I write it out for myself in the most straightforward, least funny way possible. If I don’t understand what I want the audience to understand, then how’s the audience going to understand it? It’s okay if the point isn’t funny. Making it funny is what the next steps are for.

2. Find a Premise That Communicates That Point

Jokes don’t communicate ideas by just stating them out loud. If they did, they wouldn’t be jokes, but statements. And nobody wants to go see a stand-up statementian. Instead, jokes communicate their ideas by almost stating them—and then leaving out just enough to force the audience’s brains to put together the pieces and “get” what’s being said. It’s that moment of sudden comprehension, of “getting” the joke, that makes us laugh. If you wanted to treat it like math, you’d say a joke is 1-2-3-4-6. What makes the audience laugh is when they fill in “5,” even though you didn’t say it.

We bring the audience to that moment of understanding by communicating the idea of the joke through a premise—literally the little story that you tell about the idea of the joke. In my book Joke Farming, I give the example of a joke asking why we say “walking the dog” when we really mean “take the dog outside so it can go to the toilet.” The idea behind the joke is that common phrases often obscure what people are ashamed to say out loud.

However, it’s not funny to say, “Common phrases often obscure what people are ashamed to say out loud.” It’s funny to say, “Why do we say, ‘I need to walk the dog’ when we’re really saying, ‘The dog needs to take a poop?’ Whose embarrassment are we avoiding here? The dog’s? Because the dog doesn’t seem to care who knows it.”

3. Construct the Joke Using the Mechanical Principles of Humor

This is a pretty big step, and there’s more involved here than I can fit into this space. It would take a whole book to describe it. That’s why I wrote one! But the most important thing to remember is that jokes aren’t just written, but constructed. They operate by not-quite-scientific principles that underly every type of humor writing, and they can be analyzed, understood, and applied without taking the fun out of humor. If anything, I think they make the humor more fun. You will laugh at a well-constructed joke. But once you know why it’s well-constructed joke, you’ll enjoy understanding the work that went into it.

Any writer looking to create jokes can benefit from analyzing their instinctive imaginative process and turning it into a deliberate writing process. Doing so won’t break the magic spell that allows you to write jokes. It will help you to write jokes faster, better, and more reliably, which will lower the stress you’re feeling and, in the end, make it easier for you to feel inspired when you’re writing jokes!

The way to start is by thinking about how you think. This may feel difficult at first, like trying to look down at your own mouth or defending the electoral college. But if you put in the time to understand how your brain finds inspiration, it will save you the time you’d otherwise spend waiting for that inspiration to be found.

Check out Elliott Kalan’s Joke Farming here:

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(10 Things I’ve Learned About Writing From Being a Stand-Up Comic.)

OK. Let’s get to the nuts and bolts of using humor in your writing. After all, we’re all building a tower to communicate our most inner thoughts, hopes, and dreams, a tower of expression unique to our voice. And a little humor is essential to mix in with the mortar holding up that illustrious tower.

From novels and nonfiction to poetry and short stories, humor provides the reader with an interlude of levity amid all the gravitas. It’s innate. Humans love humor. Incidentally, the two words, human and humor, share the same Latin root, humus, which means earth. That makes sense; I always feel grounded when I’m laughing!

I wrote a humor column for Mosaic.nj.com for years, Seriously, Karim! and I received hundreds of emails from readers who appreciated the bit of relief amid the prickly world of news. Doesn’t watching the news feel like playing catch with a porcupine?

20 Tips on Being Funny

Below are 20 tips on incorporating some laughter into your writing.

1. Be subjective: What’s funny to you may not be to others. Keep that in mind as you craft your humorous morsels.
2. Be selective: You must be discriminating when it comes to employing laughter in your writing. Brevity is a good thing, mostly.
3. Be a comedian: Standup can be a great teacher. My favorites are Jim Gaffigan, Mohammed Amer, Ali Wong, Louis C.K., Hannah Gadsby, and Aziz Ansari.
4. Be studious: Read works by humor giants like Bill Bryson, Emma Bombeck, Dave Barry, Mark Twain, David Sedaris, and Tina Fey. Bryson’s book, A Walk in the Woods, is a work of art.
5. Be a pioneer: I think of voice as style, tone, and personality. Find out what sets you apart. Things like unique punctuation and word-usage can define your work.
6. Be passionate: Hemingway said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit at the typewriter and bleed.” Believe it or not, it takes a lot of passion to write funny.
7. Be honest: Try to be honest to the degree of self-deprecating. Your readers will laugh at your lack of (insert trait here).
8. Be quirky: Fall in love with your quirks, defend your quirks, talk about your quirks like they’re your best part. I think I like the word, quirks!
9. Be a thief: Steal funny bits. Coffee shops are terrific for listening in and stealing. Make sure you wear a black suit and a mask; then, grab the funny bit and run.
10. Be confident: It’s OK to question things, but when you send your words into this universe, stand behind them. I’m not saying be arrogant, just walk that fine line between humility and pride.
11. Be real: Write the way you talk. Instead of saying, “I must envision the quintessence of this conundrum.” Just say, “I understand.” Although, the first sentence could work in a standup routine!
12. Be understanding: The more you know about your reader, the easier it will be to have them LOL out loud. BTW, I used to say LOL out loud, until one of my kids corrected me! Hey, English is not my native language!
13. Be a collector: Keep a journal of your funny observations and ideas. I use an actual notebook. You can go digital, but something magical happens when you scribble on paper.
14. Be a caricaturist: Make one of your characters funny, and every time they open their mouth, you can toss in a funny bit. Sitcoms always have a funny character. Kramer? My hair resembled his before I started losing it!
15. Be talkative: Dialogue is a fabulous place for lighter moments. This goes with the characterization mentioned above.
16. Be a bear! Hibernate on the idea and you might see it in a different light. What was funny two days ago may seem mundane, or vice versa.
17. Be judgy: Try out your funny bits on friends. If no one laughs, it may need some work. If they all laugh, it’s fine. If only one or two laugh, you may have a brilliant idea.
18. Be on television: Learn from advertising slogans. All I have to say is: “Where is the beef?” And you’ll rush to Wendy’s for a double cheeseburger, after finishing this column, of course.
19. Be a tornado: Twist common phrases. After all, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it think.
20. Be yourself: When you’re genuine and authentic, your writings will resonate deeply with your readers.

One Final Thought on the Quintessence of the Humor Conundrum

Send me your funniest bits, and I may share in a future column. And have fun making your readers snicker while consuming your words. Speaking of consuming, I’m feeling the strange urge to eat a cheeseburger while riding a horse and watching Kramer bits on my phone. Can someone please hold on to the reins?  

The post I’m Not Saying I’m Funny, but My Cat Just Laughed…Probably (On Humor) appeared first on Writer's Digest.

There’s something deeply joyful about making someone laugh—a moment where I can feel seen, valued, and understood on my terms. It’s one of the few things in life that has always felt like mine. But until recently, I never really let that part of myself loose on the page. 

My writing has always had snips of humor, but The Lavender Blade is the first time I truly gave myself permission to be funny. Really funny. I credit Mary Kole, my editor who read a draft of my first novel, Wild With All Regrets and said, “You know you’re hilarious, right?” and encouraged me to lean into it. So I did. I went all in. 

The result? A gritty, emotionally rich fantasy novel—that also happens to be full of ridiculous puns, absurdist moments, and an exorcist who’s more of a con artist than a cleric. 

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I didn’t approach this book with a joke formula or a plan. I write the way I talk—fast, sharp, sometimes spiraling into nonsense—and the humor just emerges. I don’t test punchlines or map out comedic beats. If a scene is funny to me, it stays. That’s it. I’ve always used humor as a kind of language, and I think readers can tell.  

The world of The Lavender Blade is brutal, unjust, and strange—so the humor isn’t just for fun (though it is fun). It reflects how I’ve always dealt with hard things: by making them funny. That impulse to find the darkness, spin it into absurdity, and find a glimmer of joy in it. Humor has always been my little lantern, I think. 

And while I don’t plan much of the humor in my work, I do get a massive thrill out of hearing someone laugh or snort at something I wrote. During our final pre-printing edit, my mom kept texting me about little jokes and easter eggs she hadn’t noticed before. That kind of delayed laugh? Delicious. 

The book’s voice is shaped most clearly through Colton, our reluctant, sarcastic exorcist with a strong sense of theatrics and absolutely no patience for nonsense—especially when that nonsense comes in the form of a gleaming golden-haired aristocrat named Lucian. Colton emerged very naturally: this sardonic, long-suffering guy who just wants to do his job, get paid, and not end up cleaning blood off his cloak for the third time that day. 

Lucian is the absurd element. He’s the beautiful, pun-obsessed aristocrat who seems genuinely delighted to be co-running a fraudulent exorcism business with a man from the slums. Colton is his foil—the man trying to survive both the haunting and the partner who insists on wearing capes. Together, they create a dynamic I love: Lucian makes things bigger, weirder, and more unhinged, while Colton reacts with weary disbelief and razor-sharp sarcasm. 

My favorite running joke? Colton’s horror at Lucian’s puns. There’s something deeply satisfying about a character who can face ghosts and blood rituals with a straight face, but completely loses composure when someone says something like “a demon for your thoughts.” 

And yet, Colton’s humor isn’t just a personality quirk—it’s a shield. Most of his sarcasm is a front, a way to keep people at a distance in a world that’s hurt him over and over. But underneath it, he’s deeply nurturing. He genuinely cares about the people around him, and he wants to make them laugh too. That’s probably where he and I overlap most. Humor might start as a defense, but it becomes connection. When Colton lets his guard down—when he lets someone in—he’s still funny. He just aims it toward comfort instead of escape. 

It’s tricky, balancing real emotional weight with comedy. The Lavender Blade deals with trauma, classism, addiction, grief. And yet I think one of the things that makes the darker moments work is that the book never forgets how to laugh. I didn’t want to write a world that was all grimdark gloom—I wanted to write characters who coped with misery the way I do: by making fun of it. Or, in Lucian’s case, by offering an artisanal cheese board and a bottle of hallucinogenic wine. 

What’s surprised me most is how many readers connect with that balance. People laugh, and then cry, and then laugh again. That emotional whiplash—the way humor softens the blow of truth—has always been the kind of story I love. I just didn’t realize I was allowed to write it that way. 

Turns out, I am. 

The post A Demon for Your Thoughts: Writing Humor That Bites 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:

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(Starting Your Romance Off With a Bang.)

Here are five easy things to consider when wanting to lighten the mood in your novels, in whatever genre you are.

#1: Whenever things start to feel intense in a scene, step back and purposefully add a comedic side character or comment. 

There are probably going to be intense scenes in your novels in whatever genre you write. People get cancer. People die. Go to funerals. Face infertility, heartbreak, etc. After all, this is a novel, and you must have some conflict to overcome. 

But a very, very easy thing to remember when trying to keep your books from getting too intense is to split a surprisingly humorous person or comment in those deepest, hardest scenes. It feels personal anti-intuitive, but that’s what’s so important. It breaks the spell for readers when their hearts are aching. It helps them take a breath and chuckle and remember we are okay before diving into the book again. 

It happens all the time in movies and sitcoms. It’s like an opening scene in New Girl when Nick walks in to say his father just died (huge and shocking sadness for a sitcom) and the reaction was that Jess and the roommates had just been inhaling helium so their voices were like humorous munchkins as they came in for a hug. Think: comedic relief.

#2: This is not only a very simple hack but a rather practical one for you the writer as well: Give nicknames to random characters in a scene. 

Capitalize them. It not only helps you keep it clear who you are referring to, but it does so in a casual, slightly humorous way. I just finished a scene in Without a Clue (a murder mystery rom-com I’m finishing up for 2026) and one of the initial villains in a scene became labeled Pineapple Trunk Man (due to his swim trunks). 

I’d be careful not to overdo this in books and face the consequence of the law of diminishing returns, but every once in a while it’s nice. It keeps the scene bouncy and fun.

#3: Use the side character. 

I always have comedic side characters in my books. Always. At least one. You need them. In my opinion, they are the true stars of the show. 

In my February release, The Perfect Rom-Com (titled so for SEO value and the protagonist’s aspiring task), the lovable and comedic side characters are her adult immigrant and refugee ESL students. As you can imagine (and I, given I used to be an adult ESL teacher to many), Bryony Page teaching adult men and women from around the globe with all their clashing cultures and worldviews has a lot of potential when done right (as in, don’t get political). 

Creating a lovable and highly quirky cast of characters to infuse into romantic scenes helped keep the scenes themselves both funny, romantic, and fun.

#4: Surprise people. 

Aristotle is known for saying, “The secret to humor is surprise.” 

Obviously it’s a bit more too, but there is some real truth there. Spring in surprise in your dialogue. Want to be the king/queen of humor? Have a surprising second layer to your jokes. A sudden, unexpected and innocent twist that makes people laugh.

#5: And last and quite simple, use terrible grammar. 

(See the tiny little tongue-in-cheek moment there, when you didn’t expect me to write that?) 

But truly. I once had an editor continuously pull out my sentences, rewrite it all according to her often-cited Chicago Manual of Style, and put it back in. I had to talk to my main editor about it (which we agreed wasn’t supposed to happen) and manually go over and fix it line by line. Why? Because I’m not writing a dissertation. I’ve been through a Master’s degree at seminary, and there’s a reason nobody checks out people’s dissertations for kicks and giggles. 

You can add a lot of humor with italics. You can add a lot of punch by chopping your sentences up. Just. Like. This. You can even yell DON’T MESS WITH MY MANUSCRIPT, CRADY LADY in all caps (*cue shock in a grad school) and it all works together to keep your scenes light, airy, funny, and real. It’s very fun to write too.

So that’s it.

Go forth and write hilarity into your novels.

I look forward to it.

Check out Melissa Ferguson’s The Perfect Rom-Com here:

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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 All YA Novels Need to Succeed.)

This put me in quite a pickle when I wanted to write my first book about a protagonist who had bipolar disorder. Nothing about bipolar disorder is inherently funny. I needed to process my own recent diagnosis and find a way to believe that everything was going to be okay. I told my husband, “I’m going to write a book about mental illness, and no one is going to kill themselves in it. There will also be a pug dog in it, and the dog will not be dying either. These are my requirements.”

How to balance humor with emotion wasn’t even something I considered. I just needed to write. So I started writing the book.

In the book, whenever the protagonist, Natalie, was in an emotional situation, she would turn to jokes to relieve the tension. A mentor friend of mine (Katherine Fleet) pointed out to me, “It’s interesting that Natalie likes to hide any deep emotion behind a wall of humor. She needs to be more vulnerable with the reader.”

I felt like responding, “Okay, Katherine. Are we talking about Natalie here, or are we talking about me? Because I can stop emailing you memes, but that’s your loss because my memes are hilarious.”

But she was right. Not only did Natalie need to lower her guard, but her author did too. It can be difficult to sustain emotional scenes. Sad and scary things make me feel, well—sad and scared. But once I realized the importance of these scenes, I got better at entering that brain space. Especially while revising, I looked at my jokes and asked myself what each one’s purpose was. If its purpose was to break tension in an emotional scene, I generally took it out. Katherine helped me write Natalie in a way that didn’t shy away from deeply vulnerable and emotional moments.

The reader needs those scenes to feel what your character is feeling and follow along on their emotional journey. When it came time to draft my newest book, Shooting for Stars, I carried that newfound awareness with me. I’ve learned that, as is true with most things in life, you need a balance of serious and silly.

Check out Christine Webb’s Shooting for Stars here:

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Shooting for Stars is about a teenaged astronomer whose mom died (not funny), and she lives with a dad so dedicated to his work that he doesn’t take care of basic needs around the house (also not funny). She has a pet rat named Five (kind of funny), and her scientist dad starts dating a famous make-up vlogger (very funny).

When I try to balance humor and emotion in my books, it feels like I’m snorkeling. I like things to be fun and light, like at the surface where you can, you know, BREATHE. But if you always stay at the surface, you miss out on a lot. Dive deeper, and you see the intricacies of the coral and the brilliant colors of the fish. You can look a fish dead in the eye and marvel at the fact that, for this brief moment, you have a tiny connection with this being who you will in all likelihood never see again. There’s magic under the water.

Perhaps you’re reading this and thinking, Pfft! All of my writing is already deeply emotional. What are you trying to tell me here? Well, I have a friend, Kacey, who was struggling in the opposite direction. Kacey’s writing is deep and thought-provoking and occasionally tragic. Yet the industry kept telling her that her books weren’t “light” enough, and she would say to me, “I’m writing about a debilitating terminal illness. What part of that is supposed to be light?!”

Back to the snorkeling analogy: Kacey can stay underwater way longer than I can, but eventually everyone needs to breathe. When she worked on her next novel, her goal was to add some levity to the gravity, and—voila! A cranky cat named Gibbs appeared. Her characters didn’t have to be hilarious, she didn’t need to make light of a sad situation, and her writing style didn’t need a complete overhaul. She just needed to give us readers some space for air. A socially adverse and sometimes feral ball of fur is great for that.

When starting a new writing project, I recommend asking yourself if your tendency is to swim at the surface or to stay down among the coral. Find ways to balance both in your work, in a way that stays true to your characters and your voice. Over time, you’ll learn to enjoy the benefits of both spaces, and your reader will be more willing to take the dive with you from start to the end.

The post Humor in YA Fiction: A Serious Post 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:

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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.

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