Funny Isn’t the Opposite of Sexy
Before writing a romantic comedy about a comedian, I did stand up myself (to varying degrees of success) and separately, I maintained a very quiet and personal practice of writing “from the heart.” Poems, lyrics, fan fiction, one or two sentences hastily added to my Notes app while the subway briefly came to a complete halt at the Walnut-Locust station. I was constantly daydreaming about former lovers having big conversations; it was one of my favorite pastimes.
(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:
(WD uses affiliate links)
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!!!
With a growing catalog of instructional writing videos available instantly, we have writing instruction on everything from improving your craft to getting published and finding an audience. New videos are added every month!