As Funny as a Chronic Toothache
By Erika Hoffman
Often my true stories are accepted because I made the editor laugh. Several editors tell me how funny I am. I wrote an essay recently that was published in a women’s regional magazine. When I reread it, I realized I’d employed a lot of the rules for creating humor, but I’d used them subconsciously. I inherently know them. So, I’ll reprint this piece, which appeared in Sasee of Myrtle Beach and then diagram it, so-to-speak, to show why it’s funny. Many folks don’t think they can compose funny stuff because they’re not funny naturally. I’m not sure if you have to be funny to write funny. I’m from New Jersey originally. You must be funny if born there. So, writing comical schticks isn’t hard for me but certain gimmicks can be learned. Applying them creates humor in a piece, which always makes an author more winsome. Applying make-up will enhance what’s there. (Have you ever seen Hollywood actresses without their make-up? Yeah, Boy!) Sometimes, knowing more about why we laugh can help a writer become more palatable and more likeable, whatever their message is.
First, here’s my recent story about fashion: Sometimes I Talk to Myself:
I have a longtime Southern friend, a superb fashionista, who thinks that people who wear tee shirts with sayings on them look… tacky. So, when I’m around her, I wear flowery prints and don’t follow my natural instincts. Most of the time, which is when I’m not around her, I sport a tee that reads: “Sometimes I talk to myself. Then we both laugh and laugh.” When I attire myself in that shirt, folks smile. It’s a conversation starter.
In the fall of 2021, I was in Germany on an Amadeus Cruise, and the young bursar, a girl from Hungary, laughed aloud when she read my shirt. It was easy enough to translate. I’ve another one, a pale green shirt, which says: “I’m only talking to my dogs today.” Sometimes, folks will stare at that comment and then raise a questioning eyebrow. Others comment: “I have days like that,” and we both chuckle. When I taught high school, I purchased a dark tee that advised in bright white letters, “If you have something to say, please RAISE YOUR HAND and place it over your mouth.” Needless to say, I never wore that shirt to school. I wanted to keep my job.
As one gets older, humor is a godsend. I no longer seek out movies that are tear-jerkers. I’d rather listen to crass comedy shows than cry at a tragedy produced in a swanky theater on Broadway. I prefer Netflix shows like Only Murders in the Building to ones dealing with drug addiction and hopelessness set in the Ozarks.
Sometimes, I wear shirts I’ve bought on trips. Usually, an adage or funny expression is emblazoned across the chest, like the one from New Mexico that says: “Carpe Diem, Mañana” or my shirt from N’awlins that reads: “Laissez les Bontemps Rouler” or the one I wear every Fourth of July which reads: “Born in America – a long time ago.”
Luckily, my husband is a confident guy and doesn’t feel my antics in any way reflect on him. Would he wear a collarless shirt that says, “I’m with Stupid?” Never. The guy’s not stupid. Even if his wife likes stupid sayings and anything that might evoke a laugh, he does his own thing, which is to dress like the professional he is.
I took a friend to a birthday lunch, and because she spends a lot of time creating masterpieces in the kitchen and spends much time visiting her in-laws, I bought her a coffee mug for a present, which in bold letters says: “Commas Save Lives.” Under that declaration, one reads: “I love cooking my family and pets.” She seemed pleased with the gift.
Humor is the lubricant that makes the gears of life run more smoothly. If you’re a naturally funny man, punster, or prankster, great. If you need help with an icebreaker, buy yourself a shirt with a funny caption and believe me, you will make an impression and cause a smile or two from passersby.
But, if they don’t appreciate your sense of humor or mode of dress, Fuhgeddaboudit. You do You! Enjoy yourself. And don’t overly worry about looking tacky. Have you ever seen a golfer?
***
Ok, then. I don’t know if they have taught AI yet how to create humor in a piece? Here’s my human take.
First, stick with what you know. The theme for this issue was fashion. As you might have gathered, I don’t pay attention to fashion or maybe as much as I do to daily exercise. I establish that truth quickly.
Two:write fast. The faster you write the more honest, you’ll be. You can edit out typos, fix punctuation, or improve the sentences later. You want authenticity. This is non-fiction.
Three: ensure the reader feels your personality as if she’s met you. You are looking for relatability. Remember this piece I wrote for a Southern magazine whose audience is mostly Southern women who are mostly older and shop at boutiques. That’s where this magazine is distributed.
Four:be self-deprecating. Anytime my husband or kids point out something they find I’ve done that seems unbelievable, and they question why I did it, I respond, “Stupid, I guess.” This ends the discussion and makes them laugh because it’s unexpected. You always want a surprise!
Five:use call-backs. State something in the beginning and let it sit and then return to it later. Refer to the way I started with a definition of “tacky” and then ended with the word “tacky” where I’m alluding to golfers who usually have enough money to dress classy… if they wanted to.
Six:the rule-of-three comes in handy. List two things and make the final one not fit; make it outrageous. I do this when I first talk about my tee that questions my memory, and then I mention my tee that says I ONLY talk to my dogs some days, and finally I confess to a tee that basically is telling my students to shut up.
Seven: truth is funny – that’s why everyone can relate to in-law jokes. Just stretch it a little. Take something everyone knows and put a twist on it. Even something that is a bit morbid or tragic can be treated this way. Here’s an example of a morbid thank you note for a gift of food after a funeral: “Thank you for the casserole. It worked better than stool softener.”
Eight: combine two images you wouldn’t usually put together, like “hell in a handbasket.” “Carpe Diem, Manana” is a good example.
Nine: try to evoke humor from the get-go, even with the title. The first sentence should arouse curiosity. By the end of the first paragraph, you want to have established relatability, connection, likeability, and their willingness to give you a chance to make them laugh even more. Whether you do this by using a Richard Pryor confessional style or you follow Ray Bradbury’s goal to entertain himself first and then entertain others, you need a hook.
Ten: practice telling some of your anecdotes orally. See if friends laugh. Keep a journal; don’t take yourself too seriously. Write anything in there, even things that might embarrass you at the time you pen them.
Of course, there are other tricks like using “k” words, like “broccoli” and “turkey neck” to elicit a laugh. Or refer to something everyone knows like “The 12-Step-Alcoholics Anonymous Program” and rebrand the expression “The 12 Steps to Becoming Southern.” Expand on that.
When I taught the folks who subscribe to AARP how to compose personal essays for the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at Duke University, they often asked how to start. I wrote on the board: When I think about______, I often think about_____.
Some would fill in those blanks with words like “mother” and end up with sweet, nostalgic, memoir pieces. Others might use words like “failure” and end up with poignant, philosophical essays.The jokesters in the class would fill in outrageous words akin to those Mad Libs we did in our youth. When this happened, I knew I had a humorist on my hands!