Yet, it wasn’t that comical in comedy

MISUNDERSTOOD

For centuries, the basis of comedy is the misunderstanding: a confused identity or the ignorance of the truth. That’s at least what I learnt with this video. At the time of the original entry in Spanish, I was indeed far for from getting into the comedy business in McKee’s book ( Story)…

As usual ( now and then), I’m so lazy I can’t read much more than a paragraph, maybe three, of what I’m supposed to read; instead of snatching myself from IG scrolling down. Thus.

NOT SPONTANEOUS

From that POV, comedy is the least of the least of the least, spontaneous genre ( yep, the best of the best of the best in MIB). It requires a lot, certainly a good bunch, of practice and planning. To know what the audience does know and pretend not to; in order to give the reader the miracle of giving them what they believe is going to happen, in a different way.

It is in that sense that I can’t trust McKee when he says comedy is pure genius. No. They’re microscopical tales warped according to a recipe my Ethics for design teacher called: the model of the process of design.

STAND UP AND FICTION

And as usual (again), I have gone and dipped my spoon in what seems foreign to writing fiction. The stand up. Why? Because someone in you…etc. etc., started with the best question about comedy.

WHAT’S A JOKE?

And here is where stand up and fiction writing meet half way. In stand up, you write a premise and an ending. Similar to something you know? Of course. Intro, development and climax. The difference seems to be, the development it’s very similar or the same as the intro in order to stablish a pattern. The intro is to paint the scenery. Build up the expectations. For the reader to anticipate one thing and another to happen. It also contains a bit of Agatha Christie, the false clue.

For the moment we will focus in the math method of the three known data and the unknown in the extreme. We multiply the two known and divide by the lonely one… Maaaah

THE RULE

The rule is to have three elements. The two first stablish a pattern. The last one crashes the continuity.

(And here I’m stealing from Rolo Sansó, Indeed I can be spicy but my funny is the irony and the involuntary, not comedy).

One, two… spaghetti!

That’s it. You have learnt how to cook spaghetti. I mean, comedy. You warm water in the microwave and pour it into the disposable cup with the noodles. You’ll get a sodium excess or gum plastic chicken flavour tale.

Bad joke? I know. I told you. I’m good at irony. You can finish the joke by liking this entry. Enjoy racking your brains for comedy. Pasto kalo.