To me the definition of a writer is ‘one who loves to write’ - simply that, nothing more nothing less. To be a writer is not to necessarily make a profession from it but more to enjoy it as a hobby/escapism or to record thoughts that could become stories. Okay, you may compose a piece of work that may never be a best seller but it is sure to impress those closest to you, or, in the case of comedy/humour, shock or tickle.
Comedy writing is said to be one of the hardest forms to master but, on the contrary, I do believe that most humour writers are born that way and to a certain extent it does come naturally.
One of the most important tips I can offer is: don’t write to make everybody laugh; don’t adapt your own humour. Your own humour is your expression so use what makes you laugh. Turn a tragic situation into a comical saga whilst still leaving the more serious undertones. Don’t make light of every circumstance, turn it into two sides.
For instance. ‘Today I saw a fat lady fall from her bicycle; it made me laugh’. Now that isn’t funny is it! I am poking fun at somebody’s disadvantage, but then if I wrote. 'Today a lady tumbled from her bicycle; thank God she was wearing clean knickers despite the fact that they were very large!' This interpretation paints a picture of the situation together with my own angle.
The bullets of comedy writing are the funniest parts so make sure that you don’t babble on too much about the weather, the sky and detail that isn’t going to be too relevant. In order to make your readers laugh you have to focus on emotions and take their feelings into dips of frustration, anger, pain, humiliation and then humour. Remember, the best laughter can derive from tears.
Don’t be afraid to ridicule yourself or your main character/characters. Make a fool out the heroine, and make them suffer. Remember, it’s your work: YOU can do whatever you want, provided you keep it fairly tight and punchy.
Compare it to telling a joke, the same joke can be told by two different people and it’s the attention to detail that will gain the best laugh.
Who are your favourite comedians? Who makes you laugh the most? For instance I love Roald Dahl and although I could never be as wonderful as him I imagine how much he would enjoy some of my characters. He inspires me. Look to those you admire for inspiration.
And hey, listen. Don’t be offended - not everybody will find you amusing. That shouldn’t be your intention. You will soon come across your target audience. Ask questions about your work. Have a handful of honest critics and make sure they are not your best friends or family - they are bound to be biased. Experiment with online contacts, see what they think.
Joining a writing group can be useful but remember some of them are ‘old school’ and, while missing the style of your work, they could soon end up marking your samples like exam papers, perfecting every single grammar mistake and typo. As a comedy writer you aren’t necessarily looking for this form of feedback but it still helps - just keep broad shoulders. Also it is useful to hunt out other comedy/humour writers and keep ranks with them, as this is where you will find the best constructive criticism as well as making new friends.
Comedy writing is such a personal thing. You will get rejections and lots of knock-backs but build on your intuition, learn from it and write about it. Keep a knock-back diary and write down how it makes you feel. A great way to get started with the self-assassination. Remember you can’t write comedy unless you can laugh at yourself.
Always carry a notebook. Something really daft may make you chuckle. Jot it down, you can use it in your work and this is often how the best ideas start.
Get inside your head and don’t be afraid to share what you find!
More to come.
Tee Foley.
‘The bag.’
The voice was rough, guttural, the sound of a rasp on softwood.
Reece dropped the kitbag and stood dead still. His sharp eyes darted side to side, taking in all three. Shaven head to the left, Studs to the front, Afro to the right, his dreadlocks swinging lazily around his large, moon shaped head.
‘Fuck the bag,’ said Afro, ‘look at that coat. Real leather man. This dude is loaded.’ He grinned at Reece. ‘Let’s just have the plastic man.’
Shaven head disconnected his back from the wall, moved alongside Studs, and Afro joined them. The exit was five feet the other side of them. No way round. Only one way out. Through them. They jostled and nudged and laughed. Control. They had control. They were calm, they were cool, they were in charge.
There was a rush of wind again. Their bulky frames, blocking his way, shielded him from the worst of the biting cold. The hood of Afro’s fleece fluttered around his neck. He seemed not to notice the icy chill.
‘Hey buddy,’ said Shaven head, ‘you deaf? Make with the plastic man.’
He translated the streetwise slang, picked up from too many hours watching American movies. They wanted his wallet. He unzipped the windjammer, reached in and under the left shoulder. They relaxed. They were cool. Experts. Probably their second or third mugging today. Easy pickings. It was too cold for most people to go out so there were few witnesses to street crime, and their marks were usually alone. Easy money. Easy, easy, easy.
His hand brushed past the bulky form of his wallet and its contents, tucked safely away in a deep, inner pocket, and reached further into the warm, inner lining, rejuvenating his circulation. He wanted to leave it there, let its heat spread from the fingers, along the thick, sinewy wrists, the powerful forearms and biceps, and slowly thaw his whole body, let him be warm again, but they would not let him. They wanted the wallet; they would not let him be warm.
His fingers closed around the butt of a Heckler & Koch P7M9, automatic pistol. He drew it slowly, thumbing off the safety as he did so. No need to alarm them. No rush. Let them savour their triumph a moment longer.
It had been beneath his shoulder since he collected it at left luggage on the mainline station, and the cold, metal grip felt warm to his touch. The trigger under his index finger was like the welcoming body of a woman, the 9mm hole at the end of the pipe was the voice of god ... his god. When it spoke, they would listen - even if only for a split second.
The ugly snout appeared as an extension of his straight arm. Before they knew what was happening, the gun had boomed once, and Afro had a hole in his forehead about a third of an inch in diameter. There was a bigger, messier hole at the back, where half his brains were spreading over the frosty concrete of the tunnel walls.
© 2005 D. W. Robinson
That extract is from an unfinished novel sitting on my hard drive. The book is psycho thriller.
What is about that piece which adds to the tension? Words. That’s all.
If you were to précis those 516 words, how would you do it?
Bad guy demands bag and wallet, good guy draws gun and shoots bad guy dead.
15 words.
But are the other 500+ words superfluous? Of course not. They add to the scene, highlighting the character of the three muggers, the predicament of the victim, the victim’s solution, and the surprise of the three criminals when that solution presents itself. But they do so much more. They add to the tension of the situation. The reader has learned about Reece in the preceding pages, has learned that he was a special forces man who saw action in Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban government, and now the reader is waiting for Reece to take action. The longer the wait, the more satisfying the outcome.
And yet, the words are not wasted. There is no idle speculation on what drives the three muggers to their crimes, merely some thoughts on the numbers they have mugged and how easy they find the life of crime.
Reece does not contemplate the awfulness of the world he confronts, he doesn’t even contemplate the bitterly cold weather, other than a desire to be warm.
Each action is deliberately picked out and enhanced within the setting.
Comparisons are one way of expanding a piece like this. "The trigger under his index finger was like the welcoming body of a woman." That particular piece of allegory is designed to indicate that the trigger, when pulled will give Reece a great deal of satisfaction. "The 9mm hole at the end of the pipe was the voice of god ... his god." Again, a comparative statement; it tells the read how Reece views this powerful weapon under his arm, and it is so much more indicative than simply saying Reece loved his gun.
The weapon itself is spelled out correctly. A Heckler & Koch P7M9. Not just an automatic pistol. If you are going to write thrillers, you need to be familiar with weapons. There is nothing worse than saying, "he drew an automatic pistol and loosed off twenty rounds."
Thrillers thrive on detail. You cannot say "this man is a psycho." No one is simply a psycho. There are reasons why a character is like that and you must spell out those reasons. Therefore, you need to learn something about psychology and the things that drive the psychopath or sociopath, but you must be wary. Leave the genuine psychology to the psychologist. ‘She was raped as a child,’ is enough to confirm the misanthropist murderer’s psychology. ‘His father bullied him,’ will tell the reader all he needs to know about a psychopath’s twisted logic. Give examples of the rape, give examples of the parental bullying, but don’t psychoanalyse it unless you really are a psychologist, but even them, there is a danger of losing your reader in technicalities.
You will need to understand something of police procedures, and of modern forensic techniques, but remember this is supposed to be entertainment. Don’t run the risk of boring the reader with intricate details of forensic tests on body parts.
Where do you draw the line? That’s up to you. If you are dealing with a routine whodunit, and a police procedural novel, it will probably be fairly tame, but if you plan to emulate Thomas Harris, creator of Hannibal Lecter, you may be as graphic as you wish. An agent or publisher will tell you whether what you have produced is publishable or not.
Speaking personally, I don’t draw the line. I write material that is both sexually and violently graphic. I am not politically correct: women are frequently abused, raped, murdered and mutilated in my novels, men have been physically as well as mentally and emotionally emasculated, and I’m not shy about sexual perversions. Why? Because that is what real life is about. Skim through any tabloid and you’ll see what I mean. It appals me. I think the human race is at the nadir of its log and bloody history, and I think the world would be a much better place if all the criminals and the Reeces of were simply shot, but that’s the way life is and I try to reflect that in my writings.