Lately I’ve been watching the Amazon original show The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, about a woman in the late 1950s whose husband leaves her and she decides to pursue a career in comedy. The show is indeed hilarious—and like all good shows, it has depths of meaning that stick with us, all the more memorable for their humor.
As Mrs. Maisel—Midge—starts to learn what it takes to be a comedienne, her would-be manager Susie points out to her a lot of lessons that can apply to all of us who pursue creative arts, especially writing.
It always surprises me how many people think they can just write a book with little to no preparation. Trust me, I see proposals that reflect this belief all the time. It’s actually an easy belief to fall into; after all, so many of us were taught how to write well in school and so many of us write often in our blogs or journals or other formats. We think, a book is just a longer version of that; how hard can it be to just keep writing?
That’s basically what Midge does at the beginning of the show. Her first time on stage, she is drunk and she gets lucky. Her belligerent diatribe sparkles with sass and wit, and people love it. That little bit of success makes her believe, not incorrectly, that she is naturally funny. And she is. But, as you see in following episodes as she tries to recreate that first success, the true art of being a comedian takes a lot more work than expected. She realizes that she has to learn from other comedians in the business; she has to practice; and she has to listen to feedback.
Even writers who have buckets of natural talent and good instincts for writing need to work on improving their craft.
Learn from other writers
In The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Susie takes Midge on a tour of all of the best comedy shows in New York. Midge takes copious notes in her pink notebook, and Susie points out all of the decisions comedians make that the audience might not be aware of:
- “Notice the way he pauses right before the punch line.”
- “See how he leans in right there?”
- “Sometimes you can get two laughs for the price of one; watch this…”
Like I’ve mentioned in my Sundays with Jane series, I recently read the Writers Digest edition of Jane Eyre, which has incredible annotations from author K.M. Weiland. On nearly every page, Weiland draws our attention to Charlotte Bronte’s brilliant turns of phrase, the cleverly hidden foreshadowing, the powerful symbolism. I’ve read Jane Eyre countless times, and yet I still learned several new things in reading this edition. I have always read it as an English major would, looking for the themes and connections throughout. This time, thanks to the annotations, I read it as a writer would—noticing for the first time all of the writer decisions (or “moves”) Bronte must have made along the way.
Writers should always be reading—but you can’t just absorb good writing habits by osmosis. I used to believe that if I read a lot I would magically become a good writer. Not true. It’s only by studying good writing, looking for the patterns of good writing choices that authors make, that I can learn to make those good choices as well.
Practice, practice, practice
My favorite scene in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is a fast-paced compilation of a dozen times when you hear Midge practicing different comedian “moves”—different ways of delivering lines, pausing at different times, always assessing to see which time and which way will get the most laughs.
What I love is that Midge experiments as she practices, always trying something new, seeing how things feel for her and for the audience. She is always analyzing, as we should be, too. Does a sentence work when you write it this way? If you change the order of the words, does it lessen or strengthen the impact? What if you make it a question instead of a statement? What is the least amount of words you could use to say the same thing? What if you replace that adjective with a stronger verb or a stronger noun?
Verlyn Klinkenborg’s book Several Short Sentences About Writing is one of the best how-to writing books I’ve ever read. One of the most enduring lessons in that short book is that sentences are built “word by word.” Pick them carefully. Practice, practice, practice.
Get Feedback
Midge doesn’t practice being a comedian in her bedroom at home in front of the mirror. No, she practices at the Gaslight, with a live audience every time. She analyzes the audience and keeps track of their reactions: this line got a laugh, but that one didn’t; I delivered the punch line too soon here.
But Midge isn’t just watching the audience alone; she also has Susie’s help in interpreting the reactions. Susie is in the same valuable role for Midge as an editor should be for a writer. An editor is someone who can sit in both spaces—the writer’s space and the reader’s space—and help you make sure that your words say exactly what you mean them to.
“Imagine the reader’s experience / As he gathers what he knows about your piece / Only from what each sentence reveals, one after the other.”
Verlyn Klinkenborg
