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The Funny Thing About Humor, Part 2: Humor in the Expected
This is Part 2 of my series on humor.
As per Part 1 of this series, common wisdom says “humor is in the unexpected”. That is the most common way to create humor, but there is also humor in the expected.
Bet you didn’t expect that. Okay, given the title of this post, you probably did.
Yes, people can find predictable things funny too. It’s harder to pull off, it takes more work to set up, and it’s rarely good for more than a chuckle.
However, humor in the expected has a few bonus effects:
- it strengthens the bond between character and audience;
- it strengthens the bond between writer and audience;
- it can even, such as in the case of a long-running TV show or series of books or movies, create a bond within the audience itself.
For this to work, you need three things:
- the audience must be well acquainted with the character and his habits;
- the audience should like the character, or at least identify closely with him or her;
- the habit, trait, or reaction that you repeat must be at least passably funny to begin with.
Then when the character reacts to a new situation in exactly the way the audience expects, they laugh.
Don’t believe me?
Consider The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. Remember that look Johnny gave the camera whenever a guest did or said something wholly unexpected? It often came up in the animal segments — an innocent “why me?” combined with “are you seeing this?”. He gave his audience that look at least once per show, and the audience knew it was coming, but it never failed to crack them up. It became a comic covenant between Carson and his long-time audience. Think of it: 30 years on, and people still laughed at it. Proof enough?
Such a running joke doesn’t necessarily take 30 years to set up, but it certainly takes more than two hours. So it is difficult to pull off in a short story, or even in your average movie. However, it works well in novels and sit-coms where the audience gets time to know the characters.
For example, the funniest television show ever made, The Big Bang Theory, has developed many running jokes over the years. These have the effect of binding the audience to the show. It even binds the audience to each other; check out a typical fan forum where people discuss said jokes.
So… a running joke keeps people running back. (No that’s not a football joke. Never mind.)
The other obvious example is the catchphrase. For example, who says “D’oh!”? Right! Homer Simpson. And what do you think of when I say, “I’ve got a ba-ad feeling about this.” Hint: it’s a catchphrase used in a series of six movies by just about every major character in them. After the first couple of movies, you were waiting to see who would say it in the next one.
How about, “Life? Don’t talk to me about life.” Hint: it’s the robot with “a brain the size of a planet” forced to do menial chores. Yes, it’s Marvin, who don’t get no respect. Oops, that’s someone else’s catchphrase. D’oh!
Interestingly, catchphrases work best when they don’t try too hard. When someone deliberately tries to create their own catchphrase, it never takes. The audience has to choose. Think about “I’ll be back”: do you think the writers of The Terminator ever imagined it would become Arnie‘s catchphrase? No way. The audience liked it, especially the way Arnie said it. So he adopted it.
Similar, but different: there is the in-joke for people who follow certain authors, or directors, or types of movies, et cetera.
For example, many film directors have certain shots or effects that become their trademarks, and fans look for them whenever a new movie comes out. As another example, every Marvel superhero movie has a Stan Lee cameo in it. Only the people who follow Marvel comic books (and recognize Lee) will get the joke.
Ever heard a Wilhelm Scream? Yes you have, but you probably didn’t know it. Check it out, it’s a fascinating bit of movie trivia.
So did you click on that link?
Good, now you are in on the joke too.
Stay tuned for Part 3: Unexpected Humor in the Expected…
The Funny Thing About Humor, Part 1: Humor in the Unexpected
The things that people find funny are subjective and cultural, yet the basic framework of humor is universal. I put them into categories and made them into a series.
Let’s start with Part 1:
Humor in the Unexpected
This most common form of humor comes from something unexpected. (I know, you expected that.) This comes from basic brain physiology: our brains see patterns everywhere and they constantly make predictions about everything. This allows us to keep most functions on auto pilot while we concentrate on important stuff. We couldn’t function otherwise.
As examples:
- as you walk forward, your brain predicts when your next foot will touch down. If your foot lives up to your brain’s expectation, you keep walking. You can even add some gum chewing. If the prediction is off, because of a half inch deviation in stair height, for example, you stumble.
- if you hear someone humming a familiar tune, your brain predicts what the next note will be. If the note is right, you can hum along. If the note is wrong, you wince and say she is off key, or pitchy, whatever the hell that means.
- if you meet your sister’s boyfriend for the first time, you expect to see his eyes and nose and ears in all the usual places. If so, you can ask, “How do you do?” If he has two noses, you stare. You can’t help it.
If a prediction is met, you don’t notice. What is predictable isn’t very interesting. But when something unusual happens, you notice. Sometimes it makes you laugh. Laughing at someone with two noses is bad manners, but you can’t fight physiology.
Let’s apply this to stories. A story is a sequence of events. Naturally, your brain seeks patterns in the events and makes predictions. If you can predict the events, you get bored. If something unusual happens, it catches your interest. If it catches you the right (or wrong) way, it could make you laugh.
A common setup for a joke uses the Rule of Three. Once is an incident, twice is a pattern, and the third time you break the pattern. For example:
Three guys walk into a bar. The first guy orders a beer. The second guy orders a glass of wine. The third guy orders the bartender to drop his pants and whistle Dixie.
You were expecting the third guy to order whisky or something, right? Fooled you. The sudden jolt caused you to bust a gut, right?
The Rule of Three works in stories too. The setup can be in one scene or over several scenes. After you set the pattern, then you have an unpredictable outcome, or have a character do something unpredictable. You don’t always need the Rule of Three, of course, but it works.
Next, there is the degree of unpredictable-ness. Odd evokes a chuckle. Bizarre brings a laugh. Totally off the wall brings guffaws… so long as it still fits.
If the twist is a little unexpected, it’s drama. If it’s over the moon, it’s humor. If it has gone past Pluto, all you get are blank stares from the audience and it’s good night, go home.
Then there is the simplest way of all to get a laugh: shock effect. Use something taboo or risqué. For example, in the joke above, let’s make the third guy a Jewish priest, the bartender is a gay cowboy, and throw in some cusswords. Hell, you don’t even need a joke anymore, people will laugh at the cusswords.
Of course, this is risky. Say your audience turns out to be Jewish or gay and they brought a basket of overripe fruit. If your story has a PG rating or better, using sexual situations is safer. It worked for Monty Python and Benny Hill.
Stay tuned for Part 2: Humor in the Expected…
Plotter versus Plodder
I admit it — the title was an attempt to be cute to grab your attention. Anyway, tonight’s title matchup is: do you plot when you write, or do you start writing and see what happens?
In the red corner, we have The Plotter: he lays out his entire story before putting virtual pen to paper. He believes thou shalt describe everything in excruciating detail from your characters to your opening to your conclusion because thou wantest not to lie in endless fields of rewriting and thou wantest total control over thine story lest it begin to wander into the land of the Philistines and above all, thou hatest surprises and thou doesn’t want thine reader to be surprised either.
In the blue corner, we have The Plodder: he pulls an idea from the ether and starts writing. Characters form as the story plods along. The plot plods along. Nay, plot germinates from the idea. It blossoms into a story fertilized by the author’s imagination and copious lattes. It explodes into a glorious climax before gently falling back to earth to seed the next idea. The author snores contentedly while the reader smokes a cigarette.
I think my blue bias has leaked through somewhat. Plus these views are overly simplistic, naturally. I don’t think any writer fully sits in the red or the blue corner.
Anyway, people often speculate, which method is better? I have my own thoughts on the subject.
All the books on writing that I read in my formative years said to outline everything ahead of time. For me, that kills interest in the story. I just want to friggin’ write, man. I always figured I was doing it wrong. Then I read Stephen King’s On Writing and it was such a relief. Turns out, King (my hero) doesn’t plot either.
Plodding does require extra rewriting, I admit. Sometimes I wander a bit. Sometimes I have to discard entire pages that aren’t working, but I’m okay with this. I don’t mind editing myself, and no writing is ever wasted. If a scene doesn’t work, I save it in a slush document for possible use later. Yay computers.
I do Plot a little bit. I create character sketches and interviews before I start. While I’m gaily tapping away, I generally know what the climax of the current set-piece will be, and I have a pretty good idea how the story will end. It’s like hiking through the mountains — I can see the next signpost, and I can see the peak where I want to be by suppertime, but I don’t yet know which path I’ll take to get there.
I’m the first audience for my stories. I write them because I like reading them. That’s my motivation for writing in the first place. I’m telling myself a story, and I can’t wait to see how it spins out. I don’t want to spoil my own surprise.
Plus if it’s a surprise to me, it should be a surprise to my reader.
What it comes down to is, I can’t write any other way than I do. I have tried.
I feel I should wrap this up in a general conclusion: whatever works for you, that is what you should do. No one is going to know whether you Plotted or Plodded if the story is good.
If the story sucks, try the other corner.
What about you? Are you a Plotter or a Plodder?
(another) Midnight Writer 