There’s No You in “Funny Pages”
I’ve been paying pretty close attention to the “Funny Pages” section in the New York Times’ Sunday Magazine, and in particular the True-Life Tales column in which each week a different guest writer tells some “quirky” little anecdote about life in The Big City, or life When You’re Married, or, if you’re Todd “Formerly Funny Apparently Now Not So Much” Barry, you write a really awesome essay about Getting a Free Espresso Machine and Then Acting Like a Bitch. It’s taken some work, but I think I’ve finally figured out the code to these pieces, which I’m now providing to you so that you can submit your own personal essays to John K. Hodgman, former literary agent, current thief, and the editor of this special, hilarious section.
Here’s how to become a published “funny” writer:
1. Find an aspect of your life that is boring.
2. Find the boringest anecdote that reveals this aspect in action.
3. Try to cram meaning into this anecdote, where before there was no meaning.
Now you’re ready to be a real writer! Follow this simple structure, and maybe one day you will be Oprah!
First paragraph: Point out the boring aspect right away, and set up the boring anecdote. Ex: “I am white and I was in a restaurant.”
Second paragraph: Let your boring aspect lead you astray on your quest for meaing. Ex: “I am white and I thought everyone was white.”
Third paragraph: Consult a snappy friend who puts you in your place. Ex: “I talked to my friend Terry about this. ‘Dude,’ Terry said, ‘You’re an idiot.’”
Fourth paragraph: Return to the boring anecdote. Ex: “I didn’t see any other white people in the restaurant and I was like ‘Wha!?’”
Fifth paragraph: Bring up your childhoood. Ex: “When I was little, my dad was white.”
Sixth paragraph: Return to the anecdote for final reveal of ultimate meaning (NOTE: This part, unlike the rest of the essay, doesn’t have to be hilarious.) Ex: “I sat down at my table at the restaurant and realized that the whole world was a restaurant, like the International House of Pancakes, with each race represented by its own delicious syrup.”
There you go, genius. Now you and Todd Barry can go be bitches together.
July 10th, 2006 at 11:57 am
Thanks, I’ve already sent 6 scripts to 4 studios.
July 10th, 2006 at 12:41 pm
But . . . When you’re a famous published humor writer, nothing in your life could ever be considered boring. Everything — everything — is worth committing to paper. Where it AUTOMATICALLY becomes comic gold. No step-by-step formulas needed.
July 10th, 2006 at 1:03 pm
I was charmed by this week’s essay, wherein a witer for the Late Show makes fun of an overweight member of the service industry.
July 10th, 2006 at 1:36 pm
It really takes away your credibility to call Hodgman a thief for using the same (truth be told) fairly obvious joke you used. Part of being a writer is realizing that not every though you have is going to be unique to the world. Without more proof (have you emailed him to give him a chance to speak before calling him a thief?), it’s awfully presumptuous to think that he’s bothered to look at your Website (no offense intended).
This post about his page in the Times is funny. (Did you read this week’s? What wree they thinking?) But if you want people to take you seriously, don’t fly off the handle because you both used the same sophomoric joke.
July 10th, 2006 at 1:44 pm
Oh, you got me.
Because obviously amidst all these jokes that you are referencing, my calling John Hodgman a thief was deadly serious.
JOHN HODGMAN YOU ARE MY NEMESIS! I AM FLYING OFF THE HANDLE OVER HERE.
July 10th, 2006 at 1:51 pm
I read your tutorial on how to write a boring, unfunny NY Times Essay. Here’s what I have so far:
I spent all day in bed (my fourth) Saturday with the Bird Cold until finally I said out loud to no one in particular “Not today, death.” So yesterday I went to the gym because, you know, if I’m going to die you can be sure as hell that I’m going to take a few fuckers with me, even if it is just old men in velcro shoes or that weird swishy queer who wears hawaiin shirts tucked into his pleated pants with a braided leather belt and loafers to the weight room. After I’d finished contaminating the weight room I moved into the cardio room. So I’m on the ellipitcal trainer literally dying when this song comes on my ipod.
July 10th, 2006 at 2:15 pm
Oops, Worker: Looks like you hit a nerve, judging by the very defensive posts from FassGass (John K. Hodgman) and White Gum (Todd Barry).
July 10th, 2006 at 3:05 pm
You’ve got credability! Hooray!
July 10th, 2006 at 3:09 pm
shit. crapability. I give up.
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