Being Funny in Picture Books

In honor of one of the great all-time kid holidays, April Fools’ Day…

Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Ivan.
Ivan who?
Ivan to tell you a joke.

What’s better than a child sitting on your lap laughing over a joke that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard? It’s a bonding moment for both of you.

So how did the writer come up with that joke? How did she make it work?

There’s an old saying: “funny is funny.” Ahh, not so much. While some of the rules are the same, there are differences when it comes to writing comedy for kidlit.

Writing Humor for Children

1.      Wacky Is Wonderful, but don’t overdo it. Kids like crazy, but know when to pull back. Make your story relatable. Kids will buy almost any premise from Page 1, but you have to make sure they still buy it at page 30. Kids can accept a prince turned into a frog, but a fly turned into a prince turned into a frog who’s now forced to eat flies may be a bit much. Study P.D. Eastman’s Go, Dog, Go! as a way to build wacky.

      2.      Ignore the Rule of Three – unless it works. Comedy often has the rule of three: the first two are normal and establish the pattern; the third breaks it and gets laughs. With young readers, you can often use the Rule of One. Insert jokes right after the situation has been established, a funny line, a remark, etc. Children accept the situation as normal right from the start. Mo Willems, in his latest, I Broke My Trunk!, uses the Rule of Three when Gerald explains how he balanced a rhino, then a hippo, then a hippo with a piano, on his trunk. This builds in absurdity and a hippo with a piano is funny, but he saves the big laugh for one line at the end from Piggy. You should feel comfortable doing the same.

      3.      Build, Build, Build. Associated with #2 is Start Small and Escalate. Never make the second scene smaller than the first. If you have a child walking down the street on a blistering summer day and he spots a friend riding a Slip ‘n’ Slide with a penguin, the next scene probably shouldn’t be grandma sipping iced tea in front of a fan. Embrace the wacky and build on it.

4.      Create Humor From Characters – A great rule for just about any story. Would your character say or do that? Don't just have your character say something that is funny just to insert a funny line. Even consistently funny characters have a style. Is your character funny by playing it straight (The Pigeon)? Funny by being mischievous (The Cat in the Hat)? Weird, odd, cute, over-the-top?

5.      Remember Your Audience. One parent joke per book is fine. Kids will roll with it and accept it as part of the story (see Nick Bruel’s Bad Kitty for great examples of this), but too many jokes over their head will lose them. If you can write jokes everybody gets, great, but focus on your audience first. Parents may curse you after the 30^th reading, but their children will ask for a 31^st time. And they might just ask for your next book, too.

6.      They’ve Never Heard Old Jokes Before – but your editor has. An old joke may be fine; children don’t know the classics. But your editor will want originality and parents may groan. An old joke now and then may be OK, but why are you trying to be funny if you can’t write jokes? Come up with your own. It will help you sell your manuscript to a publisher and the parents.

7.      Sometimes It’s Just a Sketch. Sometimes a kid’s book is just a sketch. I felt that way with Mo’s I Broke My Trunk. It’s funny, but it strikes me as a sketch, whereas We Are In a Book, Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, and others have more depth. The point is, you can write just a sketch. As long as it’s funny, it has a place in children’s literature. Children don’t know it’s just a sketch.

8.      Bodily Functions Are OK for Boys and Girls – but mostly boys. Girls think bodily functions are funny because they’re inappropriate, but editors and parents generally think they’re for boys, and at some point, they will be. Girls will outgrow them sooner. Low-brow can be OK, and some writers like Alan Katz (Take Me Out of the Bathtub and other Silly Dilly books) do it brilliantly and consistently, but if it’s not your forte, don’t force it. Just don’t be afraid of it either.

9.      Use Artwork Whenever Possible. Sometimes artwork sells the scene, sometimes it is the joke. If you’re an illustrator, you can punch up a scene with a look on a character’s face, motion lines and who knows what else. For you writers, don’t tell the illustrator what happens in a scene unless absolutely necessary, but don’t be afraid to list basic art notes if you absolutely have to. But if you have to, ask yourself if words are even needed for that scene. Rely on the illustrator. You’re a team!

Kids, like all readers want to be pulled in. Use humor to fill in around a compelling story. Funny can keep things moving, it can keep readers coming back for more, but humor isn’t the heart of your book, it’s the soul. Less tangible, but able to give it life.

Be aware that your reader will not have your voice, and so often comedy is not what you say, but how you say it. Parents and children may get better with each read (as they learn the words, rhythm, inflections, etc), but as a test run, have someone read your story back to you out loud. Does the comedy work in a cold read? Can they quickly grasp how to tell your jokes?

Oh, and remember, comedy is subjective. Someone will almost think it’s the driest thing they’ve ever ready. But as Jerry Seinfeld noted, he’s convinced every show he’s ever done someone walked away thinking he’s the worst comedian they’ve ever seen. And that’s Seinfeld! Or as comedian Tommy Moore says, “The audience is the variable.” Some of them will love you, some will not. Go back to the ones who do.

(Whew! Writing about comedy is hard work. Next time I’m writing about sleeping.)



Learning to Write From the Ides of March

It’s March 15, the famous Ides of March, the day of Julius Caesar’s death. The day when we recall high school English teachers bemoaning half-hearted attempts at Shakespeare with “Et tu, Brute?” as if we'd stabbed them heart.

Well, turns out Caesar may never have said that, but that’s good writing. Of course, it may not have been Shakespeare’s writing. This does get confusing.

Some historians say that upon being stabbed by Brutus, Caesar called out (in Greek) “Kai su, teknon?” (You too, my child?) or (Latin) “Tu quoque, Brute, fili mi?” Some say he said nothing (as he was being stabbed). I believe he simply cried out in agony.

What I’ve Learned About Writing From The Ides of March:

1.      Writing is about simplicity. “Et tu, Brute?” is far more memorable than “Tu quoquoe, Brute, fili mi?”. Even people who never had a day of Latin class, who routinely butcher e pluribus unum  and ex post facto know Et tu, Brute.

2.      Simple words can still convey complex ideas. Shakespeare again. Does anything say it better than “To be or not to be?” or “Out, out, damn spot!”  How about FDR’s “All we have to fear is fear itself”? The words of philosophers found in the mouths of three year olds.

3.      It doesn’t have to be English if it fits. A good phrase is a good phrase. People repeat “Ich bin ein Berliner” even if it could mean “I am a jellyroll.” OK, it doesn’t, but that’s a long-standing joke. And people sing La Bamba and La Cucaracha without knowing another word in either song. Either they’ve just gotten married in Mexico or like cockroaches.

4.      You don’t have to write it. Shakespeare wasn’t the first to write “Et tu, Brute.” It was in common usage and had already appeared in two other plays prior to his. If you’re more famous, it becomes your line. John F. Kennedy wasn’t the first to say, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” It was the Roman poet Juvenal, who nobody remembers. You don’t have to be first, you have to be the best. By the way, I don’t like this lesson, I’m just saying. Which, of course, is a saying I can’t take credit for. It’s already in common usage. See how that works? But if you’re Shakespeare, it’s yours, lock, stock, and barrel.

5.      Leave emotion open-ended. I’ve always been a big fan of this. I’ve been criticized for not writing how my characters say a line. Are they upset? Angry? Etc., etc. I prefer to leave it to the reader’s imagination. I think writers who routinely overemphasize a character’s emotions don't trust (respect?) their readers. After all, it turns out when Caesar said “Et tu, Brute" (or “Kai su, tekron”), he may not have been surprised by Brutus’ betrayal but rather cursing him, as in “Et tu, Brute!” Maybe Shakespeare should have given his actors a choice. Imagine the difference in that scene.

So if you’re looking to apply these lessons to children’s books: keep it simple, don’t be afraid to present complex issues (bullying, divorce, disabilities, etc.), foreign words and phrases are OK (especially if you’re trying to teach), common phrases are fine in dialogue, and you don’t need to stress every emotion (of course, in picture books, the illustrations can do that, but this rule holds for young adult, mid-grade, and early chapter books, too).

Your goal (and maybe this is a good writing assignment) is to make a line sleeker, memorable, rhythmic, yours. It’s not likely any of us are Shakespeare (or Juvenal, for that matter, though juvenile maybe), but the tricks work just the same. Make lines simpler and dialogue friendly, whether in chidlren’s books or adult stories.

It worked for writers of their caliber. Why not for us lesser talents?

So think about your favorite lines. Can they be rewritten according to this  formula?

P.S. ( I may have to explore this idea further. By formula, one should know if a line is good. It should hit you. Yet too many writers take twisted, convoluted – dare I say gobbledygook – to be good writing. Shouldn’t be a problem in kidlit, but you’d be surprised.  Sometimes I wonder what the heck I was thinking. And that’s the problem with formulas or as Caesar and Juvenal would have said, formulae…)