Humor in Writing (Tickling - Not Smashing - the Funny Bone): Turn Right at Machu Picchu by Mark Adams

You know you're a talented writer when you have me voraciously reading about Machu Picchu.

Yesterday I read an excerpt of a book that's going to be released on June 30 called:

"Turn Right at Machu Picchu"

I'm always delighted (and, of course, jealous and intimidated) when I read something authored by someone who's got the writer's touch - and the writer here, Mark Adams, has obviously got it.

A writer that has "the touch," by my definition, is someone who can transform the most bland subject imaginable (no offense to the Incans - I'm no history buff) into something that has you saying, "Holy bananas. How come I never thought this stuff was cool before?"

Here's some of his writing that I'm talking about:

The Peruvian tourist board has been pushing Choquequiaro as "The Other Machu Picchu" for a few years. Part of its strategy is to divert some of the throngs that overwhelm the more famous ruins. I'd heard reports from a couple of adventure-travel snobs that the path to Choquequiaro had become "infested" by overflow crowds from Machu Picchu. On our two-day walk to the site, the only other people we saw were a pair of sisters marching to school in their matching uniforms, a farmer heading toward civilization with two mule-loads of bananas and coffee beans, and a German guy whose head had been roasted fuschia by the sun.

Even if my chances of running into anyone I knew on the trail to Choquequiaro were pretty low, I was feeling a little self-conscious. I was dressed like Mr. Travel Guy: shirt with dozens of pockets, drip-dry pants that zip off into shorts, floppy hat with a cord pulled tight under the chin. Between my microfiber bwana costume and the bags of candy that Justo [a guide] kept foisting on me ("got to keep your blood sugar up"), I could have been trick-or-treating as Hemingway . . .

I'd spent a month picking out the perfect pair of boots for this trip and broke them in by walking around my sea-level hometown for two weeks before departing for Cuzco. Unfortunately, amid all my research, I hadn't come across the Wear Two Pairs of Socks rule. This is evidently one of those dictums like "Don't Keep a Moody 200-Pound Male Chimpanzee in Your Home" that seems so obvious no one bothers to mention it until something goes horribly wrong . . . When I pulled off my boots at camp late that afternoon, the big toes on each foot were swollen on two sides. Each had a chick-pea size blister that, when punctured, squirted like a Super Soaker.

"These the first blisters of your life, Mark?" John [the main guide] asked as he sterilized a needle with iodine.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "Trust me, I've had much worse than these." This was true, though I declined to mention that the cause of my previous torment had been a tight pair of patent leather shoes that I'd worn with a tuxedo to the FiFi Awards - which are, of course, the Oscars of the fragrance industry - years earlier while working at a men's fashion magazine.

~ ~ ~ ~

Reasons Why It's Great Writing:

1. He has original, memorable analogies (e.g., Hemingway, Chimp, Super Soaker).

2. You learn about Choquequiaro without even realizing it (e.g., what it looks like; how the natives live, work, and eat).

3. His writing is understated.

At first glance, that final reason may seem far from the truth - spouting off about 200-pound monkeys and explosive blisters - but that's why he's a talented writer. Amateurs (myself included) "try too hard," and the result is writing that's stilted and weak. (Isn't that the most annoying piece of advice you can get from a pro? "You're trying too hard, man." Thanks.)

For example, young writers (in experience, not age) will try to "intrigue" their audience by dancing around a subject; 99% of the time this simply means the writer is being too wordy - not to mention it sounds like she's talking down to her readers. Not a good way to win them over.

Adams, on the other hand, just comes out there and says what he means to say and moves on. It may sound like he's playing around with words - and that's because he's entertaining you - but actually he's being quite select about how much he says. (The best magic is when you don't even know it's happening.)

I spot amateur wordiness most often in funny stories.

A beginner usually translates the meaning of humor to "writing lots of words;" the more description, he thinks, the funnier it will be. But that's like someone poking you in the ribs and saying, "Get it, get it? Funny, right?"

Truly funny writers, like Adams, keep to the bare bones and leave the rest to the imagination because, 99% of the time, the imagined scenario is much funnier than reality. You get just enough information to start chuckling and then the story barrels forward.

To illustrate just how difficult it is to be precise and concise, read through something you recently wrote and cut out everything that's repetitive or unnecessary.

Here's a snapshot of what I went through just to write five sentences:

Which leads me to my second (and, don't worry, last) example of mistakes made by amateur writers. The most common instances where amateur writers tend to be too wordy is when they're trying to be funny. Funny to amateur writers tends to mean "lots of words.” The most common place where I find amateur wordiness is in funny stories. I see spot amateur wordiness most often in funny stories. [Insert new paragraph here] An amateur A beginner writer translates tends to translate usually translates the definition meaning of humor to "writing lots of words;" he’ll write more and more words in hopes of making it funnier and funnier the more description, he thinks, the funnier it will be. [Add in: But that's like someone poking you in the ribs and saying, "Get it, get it? Funny, right?"] [Start new paragraph here] The seasoned writer knows that the funniest stories are the ones that Truly funny writers, like Adams, keep to the bare bones and leave the rest to the imagination (which is, 99% of the time, way much funnier than reality) because, 99% of the time, it's the imagined scenario is much funnier than reality. Adams knows how to be funny. [Start new paragraph here] Adams gives you just enough information to get you chuckling and then barrels forward. You get just enough information to get you start chuckling and then the story barrels forward.

I remember a college roommate of mine plopping on to her bed after school one day and saying, "My teacher told me that I have verbal diarrhea."

The best medicine I've found for my verbal diarrhea (which ails me more than I'd like):

"On Writing Well" by William Zinsser

and

"Self-Editing for Fiction Writers" by Rennie Brown and Dave King

Three more great writers that transformed a bland subject into something interesting.