My Newsletters (Mainly Fantasy)

January, 2009: The Necessity for Humor

January 26 Fantasy NEWSLETTER



As one of your Fantasy editors, my goal is to challenge you to think outside the KNOWN and to help you inject your tales with fascinating facts while jagging left and right through troublesome frolics and teethe-writhing dilemmas.

Perhaps we can help each other to safely jog through these twisty turns of radical thought, alternate viewpoint, and dynamic detail. Come! Let’s head down the Path of Dimensions, untextured by any earthly array.

In other words,

let’s drop out of reality for awhile.

Shall we?

The Necessity For Humor

Ack! Dull title. Let me rework that. How about Falling into a Laugh?

Or maybe . . . Humor Hums a Giggle ?

I suppose, I could call this piece . . . Space Walking a Joke? or Joking Around with Aliens

All right. I give up. I’m awful with titles. That’s a whole ‘nother subject. Let’s just go with the Necessity for Humor as a working title.

Remember the movie STAR WARS. (Like anyone could forget???)

Remember how there were moments in that movie when you were clutching the arm of the seat (or the person next to you.) You were digging into that seat (or person) with your fingernails.. Your limbs were tight. Your mouth felt dry. You were hanging onto a scream, trying not to release it, trying to get through the intensity of that thick, dry fear. . .

There were serious reasons for fear in STAR WARS. The very sound of Darth Vader’s heavy breathing sent me into Hitchcock panic. Edge of seat scary, man! Finger-sucking Worry . . . Wait!

Remember R2D2? He kept cracking jokes (or rather the Gold Robot, 3CPO, did . . .

And then, we had to giggle, belly laugh or at least sigh with great relief.

We needed that sigh, that giggle, that humorous breath of relief.

Mankind can’t climb a tension ladder for too long.

We have to slide down.

We have to still our racing heart.

We must continually jump start ourselves back at zero.

(Does a ladder have a zero???)

Fresh metaphor.

We humans need to clear our palates between acts. A sip of water. A piece of bread.

Only then can we savor the return of apprehension, the terror, and the genuine seat squirm. We need to be free ourselves, you see, to look away, to have that bite of popcorn, to sip our cola, to release our grip on the poor strange sitting next to us.

We need to RELAX.

Yet . . . I can almost hear you saying – “But this article is supposed to be about writing, not seeing a STAR WARS movie. Isn’t it really the same? Writing leads to movies. GOOD writing leads to GOOD movies (unless the actors and directors are not proficient with their part in the scheme of things.)

I think that all stories must have some relief-inspiring downslide now and then so we readers/viewers can climb that barber’s pole of tension,
so we can sail away again into terror and trembling angst.

Thus, if I’m right -- even in a short story, shouldn’t there be a bit of the roller coaster? Don’t all tales need a bit of up and down – those moments of coasting, of calm, or even giggles.

*green*But let’s take another example: A Martian . . . (okay a creature from the other side of Nowhere – Planet Zibnodrgofffh, for instance) descends through Earth atmosphere. We see a flash of his facial features (peanut butter a la strawberry jam. Oh, and he has two noses that flare with red and black veins each breath he breathes – and he inhales toxic fumes that exhale in strips of yellow mist which slither and slide across our view like tiny parasitic worms.)

The music swells. A flaring note of discord sets both ears and teeth on edge. The escalating noise pops up the goose bumps across your slightly hairy arms. And you’re your heart begins to pound. Your palms glow with perspiration for the alien has turned his countenance. His eyes now glare into the camera, taking on a glow of luminescence.

You shudder just before you hear his voice (nicely translated) which wobbles slightly like a tone-death man attempting to sing a soprano’s aria. Your eyes suddenly feel scratchy because you need to blink, but you don’t dare. The alien has just said, “All you humans are so ugly.” (He snorts then, his nostrils dilating into a deeper burgundy-red.)

The person beside you whimpers. You mean to retract your fingernails, but the alien is speaking again. You hold your breath to listen.

The Martian (or Zibnodrgofffhian) opens its mouth even wider to gargle a bit of wormy, yellow air. The sight of the double row of teeth makes you slide further down in your chair.

He/she/it growl/sings, “I can’t wait for the moment when I have broken through these black-white clouds of noxious air! I shall spewl down into Earth’s brownish/green dirt/flora. I shall blast every one of these ugly bodies into oblivion. One squeeze of my trigger and those skin-stretched mammalian bodies of will be utterly transformed, beautified, blubberized into hues of brown and red.

“How soon it will be! (The alien’s fourth hand on the right reaches forward to clasp the trigger of his armament.)

“Ah, here it comes,” he screams. “My lovely new and improved Laser Botox . . .Pow!

Did your personal fear factor suddenly drop back down? Did you giggle, sneer, or snort in disgust at the flimsiness of this psuedo monster of an alien?

I bet your palms have dried again, your breathing resumed. Now your toes can tap to some unheard melody, something like “I could have danced all night. I could have danced all night and still have begged for more . . . “

But it is possible I didn’t frighten you enough. The horror didn’t roll down the mountain into an avalanche of agitation. {e;wink}That was intentional, my friends. I really didn’t intend to frighten you, I just wanted to illustrate the contrast of the Zapping Laugh Trap.

And now that your tension has all dissipated. Now I can labor to build up your anxiety level again. The alien began to . . .

Wait a minute. No, I don’t. You see that was the whole element of this editorial – to discuss the purpose of a giggle in a story.

What do you think? Am I on to something here?

Please drop me a line. It’s easy, really!

Give me feedback, please.

Let me know if you agree/disagree that every story needs its giggle.

(Don’t be afraid to disagree. Please disagree. That’s so much more fun to argue with. If you agree, I’ll have a dreadful time arguing.)

CHALLENGE FOR NEXT TIME:

You know the rules: 2,000 words or less.

Reward: Possible feature in the February’s Fantasy Newsletter.

Plus, you get a healthy review and lots of excitement and praise. (I jump up and down, but that probably doesn’t count since you can’t see me. I will promise, however, to send a vibration out into the cosmos that ripples across the spasms of fantasy and science fiction to call forth more creatures, critters, magic and monsters.) I also send gps. for reviews . . .

But don’t forget -- the subject this time, the challenge, the ultimate test of writing sophistication . . . . is that you must build tension, climb that mountain (okay, ladder) of knuckle-tapping anxiety and then send us a laugh -- at least once. That’s all. Easy, easy task. Your topic. Your characters. Your idea. Just deliver a tease of a tickle that relieves. Got it?

Good luck! E-mail your story to me using the bitem please. {bitem: 123456} without the space between the colon and item number.




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I love getting to choose stories and poems for the FANTASY NEWSLETTER. If you have something you’d like me to consider, please e-mail me or submit it at the bottom.

I love to hear comments on my newsletter too!

(Hint! Hint!)

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Where She Belongs  (13+) A fallen angel sent down to Earth to learn a very important lesson... #1516330 by cutthroatxrainbows

The following is the story of an angel. It is written with lovely drama; I love the author’s voice:


“As dawn breaks and a bright orb rises in the sky, she reaches the edge of the woods. She leaves the allure of the forest behind her and descends into the madness of humanity.”

Invalid Item  This item number is not valid. #1506487 by Not Available.

The following is a teen’s story about falling in love – with a Merman.


“Just before bed, I collected my new necklace and ran to the beach. Not far from the stone path, there was a large rock. I put the necklace on the rock and quickly went back to the house. “

U.N.S. Innovation  (13+) The last patrol of the U.N.S. Innovation. [U.N.S. series: 1] #1475930 by Sinclair

Just in time for the topic of today’s Letter from the Editor – a science fiction story with humor.


"Yeah! “Midday analyzed the information in a display. "This is unusual. The ammunition is small, of cylindrical shape. From the spectrograph analysis I would say... oh... I would say they are the Chef's Special Cakes."

Invalid Item  This item number is not valid. #945830 by Not Available.

Wow! This one is guaranteed to give you goosebumps. The ending is superb!

“Moses strained to see the device. There was writing on the side and top of it, and more words scrolling on a screen, just like a Palm Pilot. Moses willed himself to concentrate and focus. He squinted, and could just make out the printing on the side: Dimension Traveler Pocket Pal.”

Affair in My Office & Other Comic Poetry  (ASR) About a strange computer, a dog's-eye wedding view, an ode to spaghetti, who needs love #963264 by revdbob

It’s fun to find a fantasy poem. The following is a collection of poems, and I’m sure they’re all great fun, but it’s the first one that I investigated. Who can resist a poem about a romantic computer? Oh, my!

I crept to the door and placing my ear
Tightly against it, the better to hear,
I heard! Yes, I heard it whispering dear
Sweet nothings to nearby peripheral gear!

Quiet Wife  (E) Domestic partners of the future. (Flash Fiction) #1519322 by Hyperiongate

This is a tale with a quiet stab. I do love FLASH FICTION. It’s tough to get a plot into such a short piece, but I think Hyperiongate has successfully done it, (although I really wish she would lengthen this. It’s far too interesting not to write some more!)


“Ah,” he said scratching his head, “I see you have the Quiet Wife model 01-Alpha. I didn’t know that any of these things were still out there. She must be what, twenty-five years old?”

STATIC

Three Wishes  (ASR) The genie offers Cindy three wishes, but her chief desire she won't ask for. #842462 by Shaara

The following is one of mine. Get ready to hear about a genie who offers to give Cindy three wishes . . .

“After a quick shower, a change of clothes, two cokes, three bottles of cold water, and half a bag of potato chips, I propped my feet up and started thinking over my day. That’s when, right in the middle of Oprah, I remembered the genie.”


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