Writing a mystery novel is not unlike piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. Each element must fit seamlessly to reveal the big picture. Introducing humor to this process while navigating tone and plot can be difficult, to say the least. Indeed, I’m often reminded of what actor Edmund Gwenn is purported to have remarked on his deathbed: “Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.”
Drop the mic, Mr. Gwenn. It’s true. Trust me, learning to fly an airplane is not nearly as challenging as writing funny.
The protagonist in my mystery novels is Cordell Logan, a sardonically wisecracking flight instructor and former government operator who sees humor in even the most macabre of circumstances. He’s rarely without a snidely amusing quip. Those quips, however, come much more readily to Logan than they do to me in real life. It’s why, I suppose, I’m not the fastest writer around. For me, being amusing on paper takes a ton of time and effort.
Maintaining a balance between humor and suspense in a mystery novel can prove particularly tricky. Mysteries are built on dark deeds and the gradual revelation of secrets. Humor, meanwhile, typically relies on lightness, which can easily undermine the gravity of any serious situation. The key to blending these two seemingly disparate elements lies in transitioning smoothly between them, such that the intended humor enhances rather than undermines the mystery. In other words, the comedic elements must complement, not overshadow, the suspense.
Character development adds another layer of complexity. Mystery novels typically feature detectives, both professional and amateur, who are focused on solving the case. Introducing humor into such personas without compromising their credibility or the story’s tension is a constant concern. The humor must be balanced in a way that feels natural and doesn’t undermine the character’s depth. Overemphasis on comedic traits risks reducing characters to mere caricatures, while stripping them of the believability that readers expect. The key is to integrate humor in a way that feels authentic to the character’s development and organic to the plot.
Reader expectations play a crucial role in this dynamic. Fans rightfully anticipate a certain level of seriousness and tension in a mystery novel. Introducing levity can test those expectations. This presents both an opportunity and a hurdle for me as I consciously strive to bring something different to the page, something that perhaps stretches genre norms. My primary goal, dear reader, is to keep you guessing as you dive into any Logan mystery, including my latest, Deep Fury, but it’s also to keep you smiling. And it’s those smiles that represent the more difficult objective, if only because humor is so highly subjective.
What you or I consider funny is based on cultural context and our respective life’s experiences. Given those potentially broad differences, I’m well aware that while some readers might find Logan’s words and actions hilarious, others may deem him off-putting or even offensive. Oh, well. As the old saying goes, “You can’t please all the people all the time,” but you can certainly seek to please the majority. And that’s what I try to do. With each line of dialogue or description I write, I ask myself, “Is this going to make the reader’s day a little better or a little worse?” If the answer is “better,” there’s a good chance the line stays.
After publishing Flat Spin, my first Cordell Logan book, I was gratified that a majority of readers and critics appeared to have enjoyed what I wrote. They liked the character and were engaged by the story I’d crafted. Still, there were some who took me to task for trying to be too funny. They complained that the humor felt forced in places, and that not everything is worthy of a joke. In hindsight, I agreed. Thus, you’ll find that in subsequent titles, Logan still cracks wise when appropriate, but perhaps not quite as often as he did originally.
Charles Dickens once said that nothing in the world is “so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.” I find that pretty funny considering the undeniably depressing tone of Dickens’ most famous novels, including David Copperfield, Great Expectations, and Hard Times, but his point is well-taken. There’s much these days to lament in our screwed-up world. If my humble scribblings can afford you respite from those ills, however briefly, I will have achieved my objective. The great comedian and filmmaker Mel Brooks put it best. “Humor,” Brooks observed, “is just another defense against the universe.”
I couldn’t agree more.