Humor is a cornerstone of life, often bridging the gap between our shared human experiences and the absurdities that arise from them. Yet, as many writers will tell you, crafting humor in literary fiction is no small feat. It requires balance, wit, and an innate ability to weave humor seamlessly into a narrative. As the author of the beloved Becky Chalmers series and other short stories, I’ve worked hard to master this subtle art, enriching my works with moments that make readers chuckle, smile, and feel deeply connected to my characters.
William H. Coles, a respected voice in literary theory, asserts that humor often thrives on surprise and misdirection. I aim to employ this principle in my stories, using my characters’ perspectives to build relatable, amusing moments. For instance, in Becky Chalmers Beautified, fifth-grader Becky innocently confuses centimeters with “thousand-leggers” (centipedes):
“Are they like thousand-leggers? We have lots of them in our cellar. Sharon Edwards and I built a tent in my cellar, but we had to go sleep in our beds because thousand-leggers crawled all over us.”
The humor here lies in Becky’s literal interpretation, an endearing reflection of a child’s world. The classroom’s eruption into laughter underscores the universal hilarity of misunderstandings, and Becky’s decision to laugh along—despite not grasping the joke—cements her charm.
Brandi Reissenweber notes that while fiction often captures the tragic and dramatic, it seldom highlights life’s inherent humor. My works counter this trend, showcasing the delightful absurdities of everyday life. In Charming Creatures, Becky’s attempt to conquer the high diving board at the local pool encapsulates a blend of bravery and comedic tension:
Becky reached the top of the ladder. It appeared a lot higher from here. She walked to the edge of the board, turned around and took three steps to pace the dive. Becky looked again at how far up she was. “Dive, Becky,” Sharon shouted. “Now, before you get afraid.”
As Becky faces the daunting height and the prodding of her peers—including the audacious Scotty Cadwallader—her internal struggle is palpable and relatable. The climax, where Becky jumps feet-first instead of diving, punctuates the scene with an authentic moment of comic relief:
“It’s a good thing you didn’t have a bikini on,” Sharon said. “I think you would have lost some of it.”
What I hope makes my humor so effective is its natural integration into storytelling. Rather than feeling forced or contrived, these moments emerge organically from my characters’ personalities and predicaments. Readers are not merely spectators; they are participants in the laughter, invited into the world of my stories as though they’ve known Becky and her friends for years.
Moreover, humor in my writing serves a greater purpose. It highlights the quirks of human nature, diffuses tension, and fosters a connection between the reader and my characters. Becky’s antics, whether she’s navigating the metric system or a high diving board, reflect universal truths about growing up, facing fears, and finding joy in the everyday.
In a literary landscape often saturated with solemnity, I strive to make my humor a breath of fresh air. Through vivid storytelling and endearing characters, I aim to remind readers that life’s funny moments deserve a place on the page. After all, sometimes the best way to understand life is to laugh at its charming absurdities.
