Write Good or Die by Scott Nicholson Read Free Book Online

work. What I’m saying is that there’s something perverse about the way I look at reality or, in the case of science fiction, unreality. I see a situation, I make it funny. Can’t help it. Don’t do it intentionally. That’s just the way I write.”
    Gary makes a good point here about stand-up comedians, which prompted me to speak with one of my favorite and darkest comedians, winner of the 2009 Boston Comedy Festival, Dave McDonough. Dave, who’s confessed to needing roughly 70 jokes written for a half-hour set, has a “serial killer on Valium” kind of delivery, and pushes the envelope with some wince-worthy jokes, but he’s booked solid most weeks, so the man has found his groove, and his audience.
    “There is a balancing act but you can't make everyone happy,” says McDonough. “I cross the line sometimes but that's half the fun. I don't have any material I draw the line at except Muslim jokes, because I need my head. I tell a Jesus Christ/abortion joke and a male-inmate rape joke that often get applause breaks, so there’s a way to make the darkest of topics palatable to the public. I'm nowhere near as dark or as crazy as the freak I play onstage, I'm really a positive, introverted person by nature who happens to believe that the world is coming to an end.”
    So writers and entertainers alike seem to reiterate my previous theory, that black humor is a personality trait, an inherent point of view within the creative mind before the material ever reaches the page, or the stage. But in the spirit of point/counterpoint, I figured there had to be a dark humor writer who didn’t necessarily see the real world through gore-colored, Groucho Marx glasses. Someone calculating, a mere craftsman, crazy on the page but with a solid, normal worldview—author Jeff Strand.
    If you’ve read Strand’s popular, horror/humor brand of fiction, you’re now scratching your head and saying, “Did she just call Jeff Strand normal?” Especially after reading excerpts like this one from his book Disposal, which shows off his talent for making gore and violence a casual affair.
    "We'll finish slicing up my husband's body, then we'll get rid of the chunks, then we'll take a long shower, and then we'll get some sleep--and no, you can't spend the night--and then I'll pay you."
    The reason I thought I’d get calculated normalcy from Jeff Strand obviously didn’t come from the content of his fiction. But having had many writing-craft related discussions with Strand, I always end up shaking my head at the logic he applies to the structure of writing, putting himself completely outside the whacky content in order to plot his scenes with almost mathematical precision. He’s like the Professor on Gilligan’s Island, fixing the radio while everyone else is running around throwing coconut cream pies.
    But I was wrong. While Strand recognizes more conventional logic about the crux of black humor, in the end he too opts for the warped theory.
    “We're living in dark times, and one theory is that because it's difficult to cope with or even comprehend some of the horrors around us, we use them for comedic effect to help us better deal with them,” says Strand. “Which is a good theory. But at the same time, I think most of us are just sickos. The college student who creates an elaborate online animation of The Puppy Blender isn't doing it as a defense mechanism. We're all warped!”
    Though like Roald Dahl, Jeff finds himself balancing that delicate line between humor and bad taste.
    “If I can come up with a genuinely funny angle that's more than just ‘Oooh! Look how tasteless I can be!’ then my only off-limits material would be specific real-life people suffering tragedies. Cancer itself is acceptable. A real-life person dying of cancer is not. I wouldn't necessarily feel the need to make something funnier just because of the uncomfortable subject matter—it would just have to be handled in a way that justified the