How to Write and Share Humor: Techniques to Tickle Funny Bones & Win Fans, by Donna Cavanagh

Even if you don’t understand English, you’ll know this book is about humor. Look at the front, look at the back; the writing slides off the covers.

Inside, the text scrapes the edge a time or two. Overall, it isn’t a problem.

That’s the first laugh aside.

Next, at 147 listed pages, it won’t take a tremendous time to get through. That’s a release of tension in itself, and as the rules of comedy state, that often results in a laugh.

So now your sides must be splitting. Anyway, on to the book.

The contents.

Under its heading are a couple of line spaces, followed by a page filling, single spaced, 40 lines, relating contents to page numbers. Page numbers for the foreword, introduction, part 1, 2 & 3, each of the 9 chapters, then separate page numbers for every one of the 26 listed “Humor Inspiration” writers.

Listen. If someone asks me what I ate for breakfast, I tell them muesli, with an apple. I don’t break the muesli down to its constitute ingredients by vomiting over the other person.

Ok, that’s harsh. What I’m actually hoping is for Betsy to read this and give me a job (don’t know who Betsy is? Then read the book. Spoiler alert — she’s dead).

Finally, I’m over the format.

Chapter 1 & 2 are straightforward enough. Why you should use humor and the challenges involved. It quickly covers sub genres and what you might consider writing about.

It ends with an exercise.

And I didn’t quite understand what it was asking. After a few re-reads, I think I got it.

Chapter 3 asks you to trust yourself and immerse yourself in reading. It reminds you to always be on the look out for comedy, with some basic tips for starting and getting in the zone, before you begin.

Another exercise to end.

From page 26–42, some formulas are covered. It goes over techniques every writer can use, as Cavanagh shows snippets of her work for guidence. They help things along, while the content is quite amusing.

Then another exercise to end.

Which leads into the next chapter (actually it doesn’t. A bit of a blank space and a chapter title does).

This is about essay writing. Short, funny pieces, without plot or character development. That’s what Cavanagh tells us, then you’ll see her own example. For analysis, it’s broken into parts, then shown again in full.

Which isn’t really necessary. Which isn’t necessary at all. Which isn’t particularly necessary.

A page of closing thoughts on essays to guide you a little more on the topic.

And another exercise to end.

That’s it for the exercises in the book, and with the writing out of the way, it’s on to part 2. And with no more writing, pages 53–147 are blank. The end.

Of course.

The book How to Write and Share Humor is published by Humor Outcasts. This publishing company was founded by the author, Donna Cavanagh. Should this make you suspicious checking out the book? Definitely. Having read the book, I still am.

Part II talks of the different ways to expose yourself. Online. Without a web cam. To get your writing out there.

It covers blogging, social media, and how to approach them. There are some dos and don’ts to guide you, with general explanation of which platform is suited to what.

What you get from this depends on your social media abilities. As Cavanagh admits, the advice is for the novice writer or online intimidated, so if you’re neither, and know basic online etiquette, most of this can be skimmed over.

But give it a read once, as you might pick up something (apart from the book).

What I picked up on was the author’s decades old pitch letter. Having it included is a good touch. It might be old, but it did its job, and having as an example is really helpful.

Nice.

On getting published, the book gives a quick break down of the four main types of publishing today. There’s enough here to decide which route you’d want to go down.

The last part of the book is the “humor inspiration” writers. ½ to 1 ½ pages from 26 published writers.

Are these sales pitches, for their bank account inspiration? (in fairness, the author’s completely honest when talking about money in the writing business).

These are all a taste of each author; a sample of their style, where they look for ideas, the flavour of their skin, etc. This is followed by Cavanagh telling you a little about each.

Get to the end of these and you’ll find a page with the author’s career up to the date of publication (2016). At this point, the book is finished.

But why the author’s page wasn’t in the contents alludes me.

Oh, and there’s a cartoon of her at her desk on the page before the foreword. That also wasn’t included in the contents.

Verdict

A mixed book on writing humor that has many different parts to its medium length. It’s an accessible, if not particularity detailed, start to finish guide on getting work out there.

Recommended for:

Following the short exercises and working through them to create some different pieces. When you’re done, publish on one of the discussed platforms.

Not for:

If you want a guide focussed on a sole thing. This is about the process.

Anyone wanting further detail of any of the

Other thoughts

It’s mentioned that another title — not How to Write and Share Humor… — was considered before launch (as it should be). Was the published title the right one? I’ll leave that up to you, because I’m too wimpy.

On second thoughts, it’s about right.

It would have been nice if the text was a little more central to the pages, but to be clear, this isn’t a deal breaker. It’s not one of those books where the writing disappears at the centre. In other words, it passes the readability test.*

Other than that, I would have like the book’s subtitle part — techniques to tickly funny bones — from pages 26–52 — increased in length. With some nice hints, good tips, and amusing examples. It’s the best part of the book.

* This is my physical copy of the book. If these are limited print runs, perhaps your copy may differ somewhat.

Length

147 pages long, and some break up with boxes, blank pages and exercises.

Quick readers will be done in a day or two.

Slower, dedicated readers. A week should be enough.

Bonus

My humor essay attempt from the exercise at the end of Chapter V:

School and exercise isn’t fun for lots of kids. Myself included. How to escape the dreaded sports lesson? Feign illness, pretend to think it’s another lesson and hang around another class. Maybe play dead. Or leave the school grounds unsupervised. That was our choice.

It was a great plan. The large tree would shield us from larger glass windows as we ran to the perimeter. Forget that it takes 3 minutes over a mown lawn to reach it. No one will notice. Is there a figure at the window watching? Too late to turn back now; only a 3rd of a mile more to safety.

Once we made it up the bank we were free. Free to catch our breath. Then over the top, a short trip along the road, and into the cover of nearby woodland. The best place of all. Only a lot of walking and running to get here. Despite the fact I was seriously tired, we could enjoy ourselves.

I asked Martin, “What do we do now?” He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. Dunno.

It didn’t matter. We had the entire woodland to ourselves. To share with the dog walkers, any other adults, and holidaying staff members. Seeing a maths teacher made us panic. Thankfully, the bushes were plentiful. Their prickly thorns forgiven as they hid us from view. The harsh cuts to the skin worth it, because the other kids would be suffering the agony of the sports field.

When that hostile teacher threat passed, we were good to move. It only involved tearing our clothes further to get out, which was a slight concern; we thought about our parents asking about the state of our uniforms.

I said to Martin, “What if my mum asks me how I got like this?” He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. Dunno. He always had an answer for everything.

We managed to reason our fears away. From our perspective, the damage didn’t matter; these could last another 11 months until we got a new set. With the term being like the clothes — barely 5 weeks old — it’s an issue, but wear and tear, it happens.

If I was asked, what would I tell mum? I know… they were ripped before they came out the packet. Those silly little conveyor belt production lines, where jumpers go from one worker to the next, all while passing through a tunnel of blackthorn.

That would work. Parents are gullible. How could they ever dispute this was part of the production process?… Don’t cry mum. I know, money. You were bound to pick a dud eventually. This must be the millionth time you bought a uniform. The odds were stacked against you.

Those thoughts soon passed. Our heads filled with clear air, bird calls, and the harsh mobile alarm warning us to head back. Which we would. From the other side, to shake things up. We might increase the chances of being spotted by doing this, but it didn’t matter. Optimism over sense.

So after a little more time between the trees, where we walked around, and spent our time swinging from vine to vine, we decided to make our way out. We headed along by the river, jogged and ran, getting seriously out of breath. Then a stitch. But it was necessary, as time, and our sweaty armpits, were against us. Either way, far better to do this than wear ourselves out on the sports pitch.

Back near school, we waited in some less prickly bushes until we had to. Then we ran, right across the car park, right across to the transport to take us home, and right towards the sports teacher.

Busted.

Or maybe not.

Mr. Jones said, “Excuse me, can I talk to you?”

I said, “That was a great games lesson, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was. How did you get those rips in your clothes?”

“The football hit us with its prickly edges.”

“We don’t play games in school uniform. We wear a sports kit.”

No more words came from my mouth. The game was up and punishments loomed. And my muscles ached. Who knew skipping sports lessons would be so tiring?