Friday, May 25, 2007
Here’s an interesting word: gag. It can mean “joke.” It can also mean “choke.”
I’ve written a lot of comedies, especially over the past decade. I don’t like to think of my comedies as filled with gags, since the humor in my books usually comes not from funny stuff happening but from the funny way the characters react to the serious, even awful, stuff that happens. Still, a joke is a joke, and I’d like to think my comedies make readers laugh.
But most of my earlier books were heavy emotional dramas of the kind that leave readers gagging—well, choking—on their tears.
Does this make me a gag writer?
I’ve got a book out now, THE MARRIAGE BED, which definitely falls into the heavy-emotional-drama category, and I’ve heard from quite a few readers expressing astonishment that I’ve written such a book. I guess these readers think of me primarily as a comedy writer. One reader wrote of this latest book, “It made me cry.” Fortunately, she went on to add, “In the best possible way.” Readers seemed to enjoy my funny books, but I’ve received more personal notes on THE MARRIAGE BED in the few weeks it’s been out than I’ve received on my last three single-title comedies combined.
Comedy, schmomedy. Readers like to cry.
It’s a whole lot easier to make a reader cry than laugh. Maybe that’s because tears arise from our eyes—right on the surface of our bodies—while laughter arises from somewhere in the vicinity of our diaphragm, deep inside us. Maybe, sadly, it’s because most of us spend our lives on the verge of tears rather than on the verge of laughter. Then, too, a lot of us cry even when we’re happy. I just spent the past weekend awash in tears, watching my son graduate from college. I was proud. I was thrilled. I bawled like a baby.
When we write, we put our characters through hell. That’s the point, of course—put them through hell, and at the end of the story, when they emerge from hell triumphant or at least intact, the reader has something to cheer about. But it’s a lot harder to make people—characters or readers—laugh about hell than cry about it.
The ease in evoking a reader’s tears may explain why more dramatic books than comedies get published. It’s just plain harder to write good comedies. So why do I write them?
One reason is that I can. Not everyone has the ability to find the humor in hell, so those of us who can do it may as well flaunt our particular talent. Another reason is that the world needs more laughter. Hell doesn’t exist only in our books. It’s all around us. Those who survive best are those who can laugh through the worst times, who can celebrate rather than mourn the absurdities of our existence.
But every now and then, a bleak, dark story takes hold of me. In the case of THE MARRIAGE BED, I was visited by the hero and heroine, Bobby DiFranco and Joelle Webber. They barged into my imagination one day and started telling me their story, and I knew I had to write about them. They’d suffered through the indignities of small-town poverty. Bobby had gotten shipped off to Vietnam, where he’d been seriously wounded. Joelle had struggled through an unexpected pregnancy and teenage motherhood. Despite these challenges and setbacks, they’d worked hard and built a decent life for themselves, refusing to acknowledge the shaky foundation of that life until it suddenly collapsed beneath their feet.
I loved Bobby and Joelle. I cared about them. I wept for them—and there wasn’t a damned thing about them that made me laugh. And—as it is when characters take hold of a writer the way Bobby and Joelle took hold of me—I wrote their story.
There’s “gag” and there’s “gag,” and as a writer I like to swing between the two gags. I’ll continue to write books full of jokes, but every now and then I’ll give in to the urge to leave my readers all choked up. Making readers cry, in the best possible way, is mighty satisfying—and a whole lot easier than trying to make them laugh.
www.juditharnold.com
Labels: The Joy of Sorrow
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Here’s an interesting word: gag. It can mean “joke.” It can also mean “choke.”
I’ve written a lot of comedies, especially over the past decade. I don’t like to think of my comedies as filled with gags, since the humor in my books usually comes not from funny stuff happening but from the funny way the characters react to the serious, even awful, stuff that happens. Still, a joke is a joke, and I’d like to think my comedies make readers laugh.
But most of my earlier books were heavy emotional dramas of the kind that leave readers gagging—well, choking—on their tears.
Does this make me a gag writer?
I’ve got a book out now, THE MARRIAGE BED, which definitely falls into the heavy-emotional-drama category, and I’ve heard from quite a few readers expressing astonishment that I’ve written such a book. I guess these readers think of me primarily as a comedy writer. One reader wrote of this latest book, “It made me cry.” Fortunately, she went on to add, “In the best possible way.” Readers seemed to enjoy my funny books, but I’ve received more personal notes on THE MARRIAGE BED in the few weeks it’s been out than I’ve received on my last three single-title comedies combined.
Comedy, schmomedy. Readers like to cry.
It’s a whole lot easier to make a reader cry than laugh. Maybe that’s because tears arise from our eyes—right on the surface of our bodies—while laughter arises from somewhere in the vicinity of our diaphragm, deep inside us. Maybe, sadly, it’s because most of us spend our lives on the verge of tears rather than on the verge of laughter. Then, too, a lot of us cry even when we’re happy. I just spent the past weekend awash in tears, watching my son graduate from college. I was proud. I was thrilled. I bawled like a baby.
When we write, we put our characters through hell. That’s the point, of course—put them through hell, and at the end of the story, when they emerge from hell triumphant or at least intact, the reader has something to cheer about. But it’s a lot harder to make people—characters or readers—laugh about hell than cry about it.
The ease in evoking a reader’s tears may explain why more dramatic books than comedies get published. It’s just plain harder to write good comedies. So why do I write them? But every now and then, a bleak, dark story takes hold of me. In the case of THE MARRIAGE BED, I was visited by the hero and heroine, Bobby DiFranco and Joelle Webber. They barged into my imagination one day and started telling me their story, and I knew I had to write about them. They’d suffered through the indignities of small-town poverty. Bobby had gotten shipped off to Vietnam, where he’d been seriously wounded. Joelle had struggled through an unexpected pregnancy and teenage motherhood. Despite these challenges and setbacks, they’d worked hard and built a decent life for themselves, refusing to acknowledge the shaky foundation of that life until it suddenly collapsed beneath their feet.
I loved Bobby and Joelle. I cared about them. I wept for them—and there wasn’t a damned thing about them that made me laugh. And—as it is when characters take hold of a writer the way Bobby and Joelle took hold of me—I wrote their story.
There’s “gag” and there’s “gag,” and as a writer I like to swing between the two gags. I’ll continue to write books full of jokes, but every now and then I’ll give in to the urge to leave my readers all choked up. Making readers cry, in the best possible way, is mighty satisfying—and a whole lot easier than trying to make them laugh.
www.juditharnold.com
Labels: The Joy of Sorrow
