Q&A 2025 - writing non-fiction and incorporating humour

Photo by Justin Young on Unsplash

NOTE that this is #2 of a series of Q&A for The Unschool for Writers. Every year around this time, readers send questions, either to my email (alison@alisonacheson.com) or leave in a comment —

I make my way through them one by one and post thoughts/answers. It’s a fave time of mine, to discover what’s most on your mind. The first Q&A of the series was:

Q&A - Income Streams

And here we are, with the second —

From Mark Williams, of the newsletter, “Change is Constant.”

I’d like to write a book - either about making changes for oneself or in ones business - which is part “advice” part “humour”. In other words my story is intended to be humorous but also “reading between the lines” contains practical tips to achieve the change. Have you any tips on how to incorporate both?

And an answer — or mulling, on my part —

I think this question centers around voice.

You’re coming at a few things here: the evolution of self. Or growth within business, and developing entrepreneurial sense. But you desire to have humour woven through.

Humour is so individual. That said, comedians make a living from having their individual humour speak to enough people who connect with it, and relate to it.

It’s hard to teach and to learn humour; it always seems as if it has to come naturally. And that’s really not fair to those “funny people” who spend substantial time pulling together material for stand-up routines, and other forms of comedy.

One favourite stand-up of mine is Trevor Noah. (Perhaps others will share their favourites, and some observation of their approach.) Noah takes snippets from his life, and weaves the personal with information. I always feel as if I’ve learned after listening to him, as well as had a good laugh.

Here on Substack, the work of Robin Wilding, fellow Canadian, makes me HOWL. Her wordplay and puns grow and grow until they explode! She is very skilled.

If you want to write with humour, play with what makes you laugh, play with words and ideas. And read and listen to what others do. What is it, that others do, that speaks to you? You can develop your personal sense of the funny by noting—that is, writing down—what others do, and determining how and why it works for you.

What type of laughter do you most appreciate? Note the rhythm of humour: that is, you might start out with the odd guffaw that grows to full-on belly laughter. Some funny people begin small, adding pieces to a story, building, building… then pull the rug out. Or take a very sharp corner.

This past week, I was listening to a story of Stuart McLean, of the Vinyl Cafe on CBC radio. (You might want to check out bith his written work and recorded.) It always amuses me how his stories start out as one thing, then take such corner after corner… You realize, suddenly, that you’re in a completely different place from the one you started from.

You might even diagram the way some humour works. There are those who tell joke after joke, rather old school. Another might start that way, but then begin to connect them in surprising ways. Some tell stories that circle back in some way—imagine drawing a curving sort of spirally shape to explain this. Watch comedians and take notes and draw the shape of their routines…

Do you want to work through such a book piece by piece? Incorporating a singular humourous through-line with an equally singular idea for “change” or growth?

Consider, for example, some physical object that might be the source of the humour… let’s say I’m talking about me budgeting my household (the advice piece) with the ancient calculator that my father always used (humour piece). He mended that thing; he’d taken glue and wrapped some bit of wire around the “off/on” button… He had the original box, the scrutinized instruction manual. I could go on… I look at it now and remember how he used it. Yes, it could be a source of laughter and learning.

The juxtaposition of disparate pieces—tangible, intangible, object, tone, memory, reality—might be effective for excavating the funny bone of a piece.

Maybe start with such—shorter pieces, lashed together with cohesive humour—before exploring book-length. Through shorter works, you’ll find a voice, enough to sustain over length.

Jerry Seinfeld’s show, “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee” (a series I’ve watched some episodes multiple times) is a class in creative process—not only for comedians, but for all writers.

Of course, comedians have body and facial humour in their work. Which is why it’s good to read the work of funny writers (and by “funny” I mean those with comedic voice). Note how they use language to create the turns of humour. Avoid emojis and italics and bolding, and focus on language itself. Open yourself to seeing the humour in things. We’ve become rather suspicious of laughter of late, it seems. A shame, when we need it more than ever.

I have to admit to laughing aloud in my car while listening to The Vinyl Cafe the other day At a stoplight, the person next to me stared.

I hope this begins the process of exploring this question. It’s hard to dissect humour.

I can imagine this project coming to light in steps:

—first, explore what exactly it is that you want to say with the advice piece (focus on one piece/thought at a time and develop the steps a reader might take to get to the desired point of growth)

—then explore the nature of the humourous voice in light of what the advice or problem is

—play with how you want to braid these these strands together, how they connect

—consider some visual to incorporate the humour with the advice; images can work well, or drawings if you’re so inclined

Thoughts?