Laughing About it One Day By Courtney Deane

Laughing About it One Day 

By Courtney Deane

Ask most of today’s top comedians – Ricky Gervais, Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock – and they’ll tell you no topic is off limits. That’s there’s no such thing as “you can’t say that” or “that’s not funny.” In fact, one could argue they’ve made entire careers (or comebacks) on this notion, with plenty of publicity drummed up before a special even drops. These campaigns tend to mention “no topic is off limits,” and then rattle off a list of gasp-inducing subjects.

Social media will erupt. People will threaten to leave their entertainment-based jobs. And the special will garner record numbers, because the general public just can’t seem to shy away from watching someone do what we’re “not allowed” to do.

Now, we may share the “writer” moniker with these comedians, but our drive for discussing certain subjects in a more lighthearted, well, light, may be different. Perhaps after a little time, a certain dramatic situation has become funny. Or our thoughts toward it has. That doesn’t make us bad people (or writers), it makes us human. 

And here’s the thing, humans like to connect with other humans, especially when they have something in common, such as being able to laugh at life’s “little jokes.” That’s a diplomatic way of saying the dung the universe sometimes slings at us, right?

Most of us are not shock comedians, however, so we need to be strategic and intentional when adding humor to an otherwise stoic subject. 

Find the Funny

The protagonist’s grandmother dying after a long battle with cancer? Not super funny. But as creative extraordinaires, writers tend to have their eyes on the details. After all, it’s these minor tidbits that tend to make a story compelling.

A nurse with squeaky shoes who would walk in like Bozo while everyone was engaged in a moment of silence can provide great comic relief. The grandmother having a moment of lucidity where she said, “I never liked that wife of Dan’s”…whom Dan had divorced 12 years prior. Her constant threat to leave all of her estate to the cats if the family doesn’t stop asking whether she needs more pillows. 

Personally, my great grandmother’s funeral was hilarious. Why? Not because she died, but because in the midst of all of us sniffling at her gravesite, a limo pulled up and out jumped a very, very famous comedian. He ran over and stood silently alongside all of us, while the family exchanged looks and whispers about how the heck our matriarch knew this A lister. A minute later, his driver runs over, whispers something in his ear and the two of them hightail it out of there. 

Wrong grave. Hilarious if you ask me. 

Go Internal

Having a character offer internal dialogue is a smart way to add humor to an otherwise serious situation. This takes the focus off of the actual terrible event and puts it on a fallible (and hopefully lovable) figure instead. 

Plus, we all know we think more than we speak. The whole “you can’t say that” argument goes out the window if no one actually said it, right? Maybe a 12-year-old daughter is upstairs, whaling her heart out about not getting the lead in “The Sound of Music” after practicing her heart out.

Cue the dad’s internal dialogue: “Who says she doesn’t have talent? She can certainly hit those high notes.”

Let Time Heal

It does that, right? To all wounds? Anyone who’s ever been lashed by life will tell you that’s not necessarily the case. Still…a little distance and perspective can take the bite out of otherwise not-so-fun memories. 

When you’re writing, sometimes you have to make sure a reasonable amount of time has passed before making the unfunny funny. As is life, so is fiction. Talking to a policeman as sirens blare in the background at the scene of a bad car accident probably isn’t the place for your protagonist to mention that the powder released by the airbag has ruined her newly done hair. Or maybe it is if she’s supposed to be unlikable. If not, this tidbit may be better served in a different scene – perhaps a few days later as she’s drinking chardonnay with an elbow cast on, discussing the events of that day. 

“Thank God there were no casualties,” her lady who lunches mate says. 

“Not true,” our protagonist adds. “My blowout was DOA by the time my husband picked me up. I had so much powder in it, I was worried the ER staff was going to diagnose me with lice!”

Lean into What Works

Listen, not all things are funny. You change a detail here and there, and all of a sudden an opportunity for comic relief becomes a vehicle for alienating readers. We can’t always know what works or what will land correctly, but we can use our best judgment. 

• Squeaky shoes aren’t funny if that grandmother’s dying alone.
• Laughing at a child’s wailing and lack of singing talent won’t hit correctly if we know that child is bullied.
• Lamenting a ruined ‘do if someone was seriously injured in the accident – even a few days later – is ick.

Use your best judgment, take chances where you can and think about what you and your friends find funny. 

If all else fails and they come for you later, just pray you’ll be able to laugh about it one day.

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Courtney Deane is a full-time freelance writer and editor. After the deaths of her parents, she worked to turn those tragedies into something beautiful — an effort that inspired her debut novel, “When Happily Ever After Fails” (SparkPress, April 9, 2024). This delightfully funny rom-com proves all tragedies can be rewritten and happiness can bloom where you least expect it. Deane lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, daughter, and rescue dog—her very own happily-ever-after. For more, visit http://www.courtneydeane.com/.

 

WHEN HAPPILY EVER AFTER FAILS

Twentysomething Abigail Gardner’s life is circling the drain. Her parents are dead, her “like a brother” is in love with her, and her nascent career as an art teacher was fully squashed by an unfortunate viral incident involving sophomores and Spanx. But just as that whirlpool feels poised to suck her down completely, she’s granted a second chance: she lands a teaching job at Excelsior Primm, one of Philadelphia’s oldest and most prestigious preparatory academies. Only problem is, instead of teaching art she’ll be stuck teaching her least favorite subject—literature—and her least favorite theme: tragedy.

Tired of being stuck in her own tragic tale, Abigail starts rewriting every sad ending she can get her hands on, in and out of the classroom. To her surprise, her life soon starts to resemble the fairy tales she adores—great job, hot guy, a career gaining recognition. But when an unexpected plot twist threatens to derail her happy ending, Abigail begins to realize why these conclusions are so hard to come by.

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, How To and Tips