Writing funny – deliberately, or by accident.
The dangers of women trying to be funny have already been discussed here, but in spite of all the warnings, some of us keep on trying.
I went to the same school as Victoria Wood, and was exposed to her humour long before the rest of you. I was in the first year when she was in the sixth form, and all I recall is something about six and half dwarves, but perhaps it counts as an early influence. I would love to write something as wonderful as dinnerladies, though – one of my favourite comedies ever.
- Victoria Wood via last.fm
There are also some wonderfully funny crime writers. Janet Evanovich is one of my favourites.
This week, I submitted my attempt at a comic poem to my poetry clinic group – and waited in abject fear at the resounding silence that followed. Was it not funny enough? Was it not poetic enough? In the end the consensus was that it does need a little more work, but it did make them laugh. Don’t worry, I have no intention of inflicting it on you here.
I do have a poor record when it comes to writing funny. I tried it in one story for my Open University Creative Writing course – and my tutor’s comment was, “Sense of humour is such an individual thing.”
Ouch.
A previous story, which I thought was a moving and emotional piece, tinged with a dollop of gritty realism, was described as Ealing Comedy, but from Oop North.
And a story in which the narrator was based most closely on myself – well, that one was criticised because no reader would want to empathise with such an unsympathetic character.
So, if writing funny is so difficult, why would anyone ever try to write about sex?
Perhaps I’ll consider that question next time. After all, I read on one writer’s blogs that there are four obligatory topics that everyone who writes about writing has to tackle, and sex was one of them. Oddly enough I can’t remember the others.
What kind of humour do you enjoy? Who is your favourite writer of comic fiction, or which is your favourite sitcom?
