(#6 in a series of tips from my improv class that struck me as applying to writing.)
Improv [Writing] Tip #6: Play to the Top of Your Intelligence
If your character is stupid, be smart about how you’re stupid. If you’re smart, be a wiz kid.
Playing to the top of one’s intelligence, even when acting stupid, can be a challenge. But I think the bottom line for improv comedy is to use everything in your arsenal; give the audience credit for being able to follow you.
I was at a stand-up act the other night where comedian Tim Lee used a PowerPoint presentation to make his jokes. Check it out:
He used charts and graphs and captions, delivered the whole thing in a deadpan drone, and even taught us a few things. But it was funny as all get out, because he used the staid structure to say the most random, outrageous things about current events and celebrities du jour—a lot of which we were thinking already but would never have said out loud.
To see it up on screen in slides made it all the more funny—and made us feel smart for laughing. I don’t think anyone in the audience had ever laughed that much at a PowerPoint presentation (no disrespect meant to Microsoft Office, which I’m sure was funny when they thought of it).
Be smart
In writing as well, we need to write with our own voice. Don’t “dumb down” your work because you don’t think people will get it. If you’ve presented characters that are real to you within a compelling story, readers will take the journey with you.
I’m reminded of one of my favorite children’s books, Harriet the Spy. Harriet was a great character, one I emulated for years in grade school. She kept a “notebook,” which consisted of a running commentary on everyone in her life at home, at school, and on the neighborhood “spy” route she took every afternoon. One day, the kids at school got ahold of her notebook and read what she’d said about them. Ostracization ensued.
The adults in her life didn’t know how to handle this. They knew something was up, but couldn’t figure out how to get Harriet back on track. So, they called in the big guns—Harriet’s former nanny, Ole Golly, a tough, straightforward mentor who always shot from the hip. Ole Golly wrote Harriet a letter that said, in part:
Now in case you ever run into the following problem, I want to tell you about it. Naturally, you put down the truth in your notebooks. What would be the point if you didn’t? And naturally those notebooks should not be read by anyone else, but if they are, then Harriet, you are going to have to do two things, and you don’t like either one of them:
1) You have to apologize.
2) You have to lie.Otherwise you are going to lose a friend. Little lies that make people feel better are not bad, like thanking someone for a meal they made even if you hated it… Remember that writing is to put love in the world, not to use it against your friends. But to yourself you must always tell the truth.
Harriet took her advice and solved her own problem. As for me, a writer already when I was reading these books, I memorized Ole Golly’s letter as though it were written to me. Those last couple sentences sum up the entire purpose of the thing, don’t they?
This book is labeled on its jacket as for ten year olds and up. Ten years old, and getting some of the finest advice about writing ever written. Author Louise Fitzhugh didn’t talk down to her audience. She wrote to ten year olds as though they were intelligent, capable people who wanted to do what was right. And you know? That sort of made us that way.
You’re a writer—you’re probably smart. Whatever your genre, write from your authentic self. Your readers will go there with you.
{ 1 comment }
Great video, and great advice!
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