How to Bring the Funny: From Second City Classes to Novel Writing
When I began drafting Once Persuaded, Twice Shy, as a modern reimagining of Persuasion, I knew I was going to need to bring the funny.
(4 Tips for Writing a Modern Retelling.)
Not only is Jane Austen known for her sparkling humor and vividly drawn comedic characters, but in Persuasion, her classic tale of second chance romance with all its delicious angst and heart-rending pining, the comedy is a needed counterpoint to two romantic leads who spend a lot of the novel with their heads in the sand. Readers love Anne and Wentworth trying desperately not to make eye contact across a crowded room, but the book wouldn’t be complete without Austenian characters like Anne’s father, who is fond of telling people how much better he’s aging than everyone else—loudly, and repeatedly.
It’s inescapably funny.
There are so many writing guides and seminars devoted to the question of how to write funny; what makes something funny to begin with? Can the slapstick physical comedy of a film be pressed into the pages of a novel without going flat? Can the zingers of a comedic dialogue be as sharp when read silently and heard only in your head? Is comedy innate, or can it be taught?
Well, when tackling the latter bit, the Second City training centers are happy to step in and school any aspiring writer.
It was my mother who pressed me into enrolling, first into their improv class, and then their sketch writing class. The instructors were kind, the classes were fun, but the assignments, as we were slowly coached through them, were mind bending—a series of building blocks, such as character studies, dialogue exercises, and impossible tasks around timing, that only made sense later on when those exercises finally coalesced into scenes. Think of a soccer player drilled endlessly on their footwork before they can even glimpse starring in a game.
We all failed and failed hard at first. Not a single person in our class produced anything remotely funny in the first week, or the second, or even the third. Learning to write in different styles and types of structure can make you feel as awkward and foolish as putting your left shoe on your right foot and then wearing a tea cozy for a hat. (Well, at least at the Second City you wouldn’t stand out for doing just that.)
Check out Melodie Edwards’ Once Persuaded, Twice Shy here:
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So when I went to find my funny for Once Persuaded, Twice Shy, I dug out my old notes on the guidelines for writing sketch comedy. Here’s just a few:
Use the pattern of three, everything’s funnier in threes.Establish setting within the first 30 seconds or less. If you’re explaining the scene, you’re not being funny, and you’re chewing up time that could be funny.Establish characters with distinct personalities. All the better if they clash!Start with low stakes, then escalate. Escalate again. Keep escalating—hey look, a pattern of three!Ensure that you include characters of high value, and low. (Value denotes their self-confidence, assurance, and control of the scene)
While this was intended for a sketch format, I decided to translate some of it to my novel.
Alright, I thought, start with characters with distinct personalities. Better if they clash.
My heroine Anne is professional, diplomatic, restrained, and always polite. She just wants everything to run smoothly. Therefore, her assistant Emmie, a secondary character, is blunt, unfiltered, and rabidly enthusiastic about firing people. Her favorite show is Game of Thrones.
Anne would probably offer you a soothing chamomile tea. Emmie would gladly bring a live dragon to work. Their conversations immediately became funny (at least to me!).
Start with low stakes: In the very first chapter they can’t agree on how to handle a misbehaving diva in their theatre company. Anne calmly negotiates. Emmie gleefully threatens.
Escalate: They disagree on best methods for controlling a rogue animal at an autumnal festival, and whether military-grade equipment is an appropriate aide or is just overdoing it.
Then just keep on escalating: Towards the climax of the book a fist-fight breaks out, in which the fate of their theatre company, Anne’s love life, and the well-being of their entire town is to be decided. Anne hesitates on how/if they should break the fight up. Emmie tries to film it for the company newsletter.
I was gleeful writing that last scene. I unashamedly guffawed at my own writing, while crossing my fingers that my readers would enjoy it just as much. And perhaps that’s the most important thing I had learned at the Second City, though I’d neglected to put it in my notes—comedy writing should be fun. It takes practice, it takes work and finagling and revising, but in the end it should be fun.
Can you make yourself laugh? Then you’ve got a better chance your audience will be laughing too.
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