When I was younger, I decided I wanted to be funny.

It wasn’t my first choice. I wanted to be beautiful. (Not the most enlightened goal, but cut me some slack; I was only five and obsessed with Disney princesses.) Unfortunately, it turned out I wasn’t a natural beauty. I had mousy brown that would frizz if you looked at it, thanks to a metal allergy I had to wear glasses with thick plastic frames, and I was just heavy enough to turn every gym class into the adolescent equivalent of medieval torture.

And unfortunately, the other kids noticed my so-called shortcomings. I hated going to school and having to be around others. I couldn’t understand why I was being teased for things I couldn’t change. (Believe me, I tried. But that’s a post for another day.) I was teased by the boys and dismissed almost entirely by the girls. In grade five, my best friend dropped me completely when she was given an ultimatum by her other friends: lose the weirdo. I was fortunate enough to find another circle of friends, real ones, but I carried that slight with me for years. The worst was in eighth grade when I became of a nickname the boys had given me. To this day, I consider it to be the worse name I’ve been called and I used to be a telemarketer. I still cringe when I think about it.

When I started high school, I decided the only way I was going to survive was if I gave my classmates something else to focus on, something to draw their attention away from my appearance. My grades weren’t good enough to be a Brain and after a spectacular basketball tryouts failure, it was pretty obvious I wasn’t going to be a Jock.

But people always told me I was funny. I didn’t really understand how or why (I just thought I was being honest about how I saw the world), but whenever I made these observations, other kids would laugh. More importantly, they weren’t laughing at me. I realized, this could be my thing! I could be “the funny girl”. (Not the Class Clown, though. Too disruptive. Come on, people; we’re here to learn.)

But what makes a person funny? Is it just something you’re born with or is it a skill that can be learned, like driving? Why are some people funnier than others? Why do some jokes work and others land like a bag of rocks? Not all of my jokes made people laugh. Sometimes, I was told I was just being annoying or disrespectful. If I was going to figure this out, I needed to do my research.

So, I started watching comedy specials and it was AMAZING. Appearances didn’t seem to matter at all! Comedians came in all different shapes, sizes, genders, ethnic backgrounds, sexual orientations, etc. It seemed like a club anyone could join. Nobody cared if you wore the “wrong” clothes or didn’t listen to the “right” music. You just had to be funny! I never missed an episode of Just For Laughs and Comedy Now! I grew up quoting Steven Smith (NATIONAL. TREASURE!), Glen Foster, Mike MacDonald and Carla Collins. I got most of my news from This Hour has 22 Minutes and Air Farce. There was even a period of time when I was twelve that I could pull off an almost flawless British accent because of the amount of British comedy shows I watched. (On one of our first dates, my husband quoted Father Ted and it was pretty much the moment I knew I was going to marry him.)

But it wasn’t until was I fifteen that everything clicked into place. That was the year I took Drama. As an insecure, awkward kid, I should have been terrified , but it ended up being one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. I learned about the important of timing and line delivery. I learned how to drop one-liners and weave running gags throughout a narrative without losing the plot. When we studied movies, I learned the value of sight gags and staging. For my final year-end project, my partner and I performed a parody of the Scream movie franchise I had written. It was a hit, earning me a very rare A.

More importantly, it’s what helped me find my voice, a way to share my thoughts and views with a sense of accomplishment. I already knew I loved to write, but now I finally knew what I wanted to write. I wanted to write the kind of stories that would make people smile, give them a chuckle when they’ve had a crappy day. I wanted to help other people the same way all those comedians helped me when I was struggling. (Besides, everyone knows laughter is great abdominal exercise.)

Not all forms of comedy work for me, though. Gross-out humor is hit or miss. (Personally, I think there’s a time limit; it can be funny, but not if it goes on for too long. Five seconds seems to be my max.) Cringe comedy is my least favorite, but that may have to do with my own personal history. I don’t like it when you can feel the character’s humiliation (I want to help them, not laugh at them.) Improv depends largely on the actors. And don’t even get me started me on the “goes on for so long, it stops being funny but gets funny again” tactic. (In my opinion, only two shows have successfully pulled this off: The Simpsons with the now infamous Sideshow Bob vs. the rakes gag, and South Park’s 100th episode, which only works due to Cartman’s sheer commitment to keep the joke going.)

While I am in no way an authority on comedy or humor, there are a few comedy tropes/techniques I enjoy and regularly apply to my own writing.

Starting/Continuing to Eat During Dramatic Scenes/Plot Twists

Food can be a great way to add humor to a scene or land a punchline, and this one almost always gets a laugh out of me. I have no idea why I find this so funny, but I love it whenever someone does/says something inappropriate in tense situations (I think anyone with kids can relate to this). Think Peter Griffin loudly crunching potato chips while the Frank family hides from the Nazis. All opinions about Family Guy aside, this is a solid gag. (What sells the joke is that he continues to eat as everyone watches him in horror.)

Character Oblivious to Impeding Doom/Background Conflict

Oddly enough, this is a favorite in horror/slasher films to build tension and suspense. There’s just something I find highly entertaining about watching two people carry on a mundane conversation while something much more interesting or pressing is happening in the background. It’s the “How Stupid Can They Be?” principle. And the more mundane the actions/conversation of the character, the harder the joke lands.

Subverting Audience Expectations

You know that scene in The Big Lebowski where the Dude meets with Jackie Treehorn at his Malibu mansion to search for clues on Bunny’s kidnapping? Jackie takes a call and immediately begins writing on a pad of paper. When Jackie leaves the room, taking the note with him, the Dude hurries over to the pad and starts shading over the indentations  to see what was written. Everything about this scene suggests the Dude is close to discovering a major clue. The music, lighting and placement of the shot are all designed to heighten the sense of mystery and danger. The audience watches as the Dude continues to shade, just as eager as he is to find out what’s going on. And… it’s just a dirty picture. The payoff for the tension built is so ridiculously meaningless, you can’t help but laugh.

Sneak-Peek One-liners

A personal favorite of mine, these are what I call jokes that give a brief flash of insight into the character outside of the current plot/situation. I love these jokes because they’re a great way to quickly add dimension to your characters without the risk of slowing down the narrative. (The Mindy Project does this extremely well.) For example, in Skipping Out on Henry, Posey makes a throwaway joke about an ex-boyfriend who was Goth. It’s a light, funny way to show her past taste in men without going into a lot of detail. (At least, I think so. Others may feel different.)

Running Gags

This is the ultimate goal for me as a writer, especially one who writes romantic comedies: a joke so funny, it can be used multiple times in different settings with losing its impact. When they work, running gags can become part of the story’s universe. When they don’t, they become grating over time. My favorite example of a running gag that works every time is Kimmy Schmidt’s insane physical strength, and the fact she can’t whistle. The first gag works because it’s in direct contrast to her sunny, cheerful personality. We don’t think of adorably perky redheads as being physical strong, let alone strong enough to lift a manhole cover (see above: subverting expectations). The second joke works because it’s a relatable character trait that can be brought up multiple times without becoming implausible.

It all comes down our sense of humor, though. Some people love gross-out humor. Others could watch hours of cringe comedy. I don’t pretend to be an expert. There are probably lots of people out there who still find me weird and annoying. But if I tell a joke and you laugh, that’s good enough for me. My job is done.

“A day without laughter is a day wasted.” ~Charlie Chaplin