Don’t be fooled by my smile. If you’ve ever fancied writing humour because you think it will be a laugh, or easier than tackling a ‘serious’ novel, here are a few words to disabuse you, or at least inject a dose of reality. You can read the full piece, It’s No Joke Writing Comedy, on Women Writers Women’s Books. My thanks to the lovely people there.
Don’t get me wrong, I love writing comedy. Why else would I do it? And when it’s going well, there’s no feeling like it. Tapping out something that has me chuckling in my lonely office/spare bedroom or, even better, writing something that makes others chuckle, is wonderfully satisfying. And cheering. And cheer is in short supply these days. There’s nothing like humour to help you get through a bad day or a depressing edition of the Today programme.
But – you knew there was a ‘but’ coming, didn’t you – writing humour is no different from any other writing. The words don’t always flow. The plots don’t always work. The characters don’t always play ball. It is, in short, just as frustrating and difficult as any other writing. A short, throwaway line that the reader skips over hardly noticing, is probably the result of many rewrites. The joke that was amusing when you wrote it, falls flat when you read it the next morning. And even if it stands the test of time, it may not sit well in the narrative and, sadly, have to be culled. Some of my best work languishes in my laptop bin!
So next time you think of saying to any passing comedy writer you meet, ‘Your job must be so much fun,’ think again. And if you have aspirations yourself in that direction, here’s a tip. Have a listen to that song, Tears of a Clown. Never was a truer word spoken. Or sung.