Sunday 22 June 2014

You don't have to wear your pants on your head - Nicola Morgan

Don't get me wrong: humour is an essential part of life and wellbeing. The ability to make an audience laugh is a laudable one. When kids come out of an author visit still laughing, the endorphins fizzing round their brains, it's a happy result indeed. It's visibly A Success.

But authors should not feel they have to "do funny" and I wouldn't like schools to fall into the trap of thinking that the only engaged audience is one falling off its chairs with laughter. I say this because I've seen children's authors recently worry that their events aren't "funny enough" and comparing themselves unfavourably with talented comic authors and speakers.

We should not forget that not everyone always wants to be made to laugh; not everyone laughs at the same things; and some people have different needs. I, for one, given the choice between an hour of laughter and an hour of having my heart and mind spun dizzy with new ideas or shocked into a new groove by fresh images and stories, would opt for dizzy or shocked. And I was always like that. Doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humour or like laughing, just that they are not at the top of my priority list. They are fairly high up it, but not at the top. I know I'm not alone.

If our books don't feature pants, slime or slapstick, our talks may not lend themselves to funny. I've written funny - and in my talks on Chicken Friend, yes, it was great to see the kids laughing when I chose the funny bits to read, though I preferred the more thoughtful bits, the bits where my main character really struggled with things in her world. But my YA novels are far from funny. A mastectomy without anaesthetic isn't funny; nor is being stalked; nor is mental illness or alcoholism. Even my talks on the teenage brain - which some adults might say, unjokingly, was a genuine comedic mine - only look for the occasional release of laughter. And that's usually when I quote Shakespeare.

I'll have a go at funny if appropriate - a Burns Supper "reply from the lassies" or after dinner speeches - and I think an introduction to any speech is improved by something to smile at. And, of course, it's heart-warming when people laugh (assuming you meant them to), as humour is social glue. But it's not the only glue and I'm not most interested in making people laugh. I prefer the echoing silence or some nodding or the way they will come up afterwards or email and tell me something about their own lives that they now see differently. With The Teenage Guide to Stress, what I like most is responses such as the girl who emailed to tell me my talk had "settled" her mind.

She didn't want to laugh about her stress - even though laughing about serious things is no bad thing. She wanted her mind to be "settled". A book and a talk should do whatever they should do: inspire laughter or excitement or thoughts or emotions or resolution, whatever.

Today, I'm heading to Gordonstoun for two days of almost entirely unfunny events. However, I will at one point wear a knitted brain on my head (thanks, Cat!) and people will laugh. That's fine. Especially since the brief laughter will flood their brains with chemicals which will make them better able to absorb the serious stuff.

But the value of an event is not measured in the decibels of laughter. If you set out to be funny, then it is, of course; if you set out to be thought-provoking, you might measure it in the silence and stillness. Or in the chatter afterwards. Or in a single question or email. Measure it how you like but don't be overwhelmed by the hegemony of humour.

So, to my fellow authors planning events: you do not have to wear your pants (or a knitted brain) on your head. Just wear your best ones.

The Teenage Guide to Stress is published on July 3rd by Walker Books. It's not funny so don't laugh.


10 comments:

Penny Dolan said...

Very good points, Nicola. Will try to remember this wise advice. However - speaking of primary audiences - quite often it's adults who are keen on having the funny approach to show the children that "reading can be fun", or similar.

Good wishes for your busy week.

catdownunder said...

Thanks Nicola! And you are so right - laughter is good but, given a choice, I think I prefer new ideas and quiet reflection. There is surely no point in using laughter to teach something if your audience remembers the joke but not the point you were making?

Nicola Morgan said...

Penny, I know, and my message is as much to those adults - laughter is not the only way to inspire the reading bug. Laughter is not the only "fun". :)

C.J.Busby said...

Great post, Nicola, and you're absolutely right. It does sometimes feel as if a successful author talk is measured on the same scale as stand-up, but maybe if we're not naturally comic we need to be more confident about what we DO do. There's room for lots of different approaches in inspiring children.

C.J.Busby said...

Out of interest, do you think there's a gender dimension to this? There's been some discussion recently about whether male authors are more likely to write slapstick kids books, to give 'funny' talks, to generally be seen as in more successful as a result at inspiring the 'reluctant (read boy) reader'. I can think of a lot of exceptions to this in all respects (funny books written by women, more serious male authors, reluctant readers gripped by non-slapstick books), but I wonder if it's a perception held by teachers/educationalists/publishers? The recent Reading Zone live streaming event was almost entirely a line-up of male funny authors.

Odette said...

I enjoyed this post very much. It is good to be reminded that different children like different things.

Nick Green said...

No-one who is not naturally funny should ever try to be funny. It's like having perfect pitch - you've either got it or you haven't. You can't learn it.

And it's also worth remembering that not all kids find things like slime and pants and poo funny. I remember being an incredibly fastidious child who loathed that kind of thing. I found it patronising and demeaning to us kids.

Nicola Morgan said...

Nick, hear, hear!

CJ, yes. In fact this post was in part inspired by the homogenous nature of that particular conference line-up, lovely and talented though each of the speakers may be. Such lack of diversity is not good.

A Wilson said...

Thank you for this, Nicola. As someone who is about to give her first talk to young teens about a book which deals with grief and loss, I needed to hear it! Especially since, up till now, my talks have featured impressions of stick insects and kittens peeing in sugar bowls. Time to get serious...

Sue Purkiss said...

Well said, Nicola!