K is For Knuckle by Bob Jones

 

Knuckle created a plethora of painful memories for me.

 

Remember those elementary class competitions to see who had the knack of spelling? I was stung more than once at a spelling bee. My stomach knotted up over tricky words starting with a silent K. Even words with Os landed me in jeopardy. And I felt dumb over how subtle a B could be.

 

Silent Letters

 

My father had a dad's sense of humour. He would test our psyches about the silent P in swimming. “Dad! There is no P in swimming.” My younger sister would give him the raspberry every time he repeated that joke.

 

Do you know in the English language more than 60% of the words have silent letters in them? As kids we had to knuckle down to become proficient at spelling. Now, we simply google.

 

Our responsibility as writers is not merely employing English correctly. It is using English to illuminate, inspire, and inform. I’m not suggesting writers shouldn’t care about spelling, especially in published pieces. However, good spellers don’t necessarily make great writers.

 

Gooch

 

Have you heard the story of Gooch? He was a newly hired traveling salesman who sent his first sales report to the home office. The brass in the sales department were stunned because it was obvious that their new salesman was ignorant.

 

He wrote: “I seen this outfit which they ain’t never bot a dim’s worth of nothin from us and I sole them some goods. I’m now goin to Chicawgo.”

 

Before the man could be given his pink slip from the sales manager, along came a letter from Chicago: “I cum hear and sole them haff a millyon.”

 

Fearful if he did, and afraid if he didn’t fire Gooch, the sales manager dumped the problem in the lap of the president. The following morning, posted on the bulletin board above the two letters written by Gooch was a memo from the president:

 

“We ben spendin two much time trying to spel instead of trying to sel. Let’s watch those sails. I want everybody should read these letters from Gooch who is on the rode doin a grate job for us and you should go out and do like he done.”

 

Salespeople sell. Writers right. Write? Don’t knuckle under to shortcomings with silent Ks, Os, or Ps in your writing. Spell check can correct an inspiring piece of writing far better than inspire a piece of writing with good spelling.

 

What words might trip you up with their spelling?

 

“I don't see any use in having a uniform and arbitrary way of spelling words. We might as well make all clothes alike and cook all dishes alike. Sameness is tiresome; variety is pleasing.”
― Mark Twain

 

Lest we forget that Shakespeare spelled his surname in five different ways. None of them was S H A K E S P E A R E.

 

“A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one.”

 

Bob is serious about writing, but doesn't take himself seriously. He works hard at humour and sharing stories at REVWords.com

The Legacy of Laughter by Connie Mae Inglis

I don’t write humour. At least, not as a genre. But I could.

I say that because it seems I’ve been surrounded by muses that offer anecdotes to make me, and others, laugh. Allow me to share one of them with you.

If you asked all my siblings who the funniest person in our family is, I’m sure they would all say our dad. He’s funny. Ironically, he’s a quiet, unassuming man who’s usually not trying to be funny. He just says and does things to make us all laugh. There is a joy there that comes out just in who he is.

And not just that, he has always been quick to laugh. When you get him going, he has the best from-the-gut, boisterous laugh. And who’s he laughing at most of the time? Himself. He is comfortable with himself. He doesn’t take himself seriously; it’s a choice he’s made—I see that now. Because of this quality, he’s never been afraid to ask the “dumb” questions—to try new things. Even at 90-years-old, he’s still learning. And still laughing.

Not that long ago, I received an email from dad (again, no embarrassment involved) with a video attachment—a short little unsuspecting clip. When I opened it, I had to laugh. The scene: The center of a mall in Saskatoon, close to Christmas. The opportunity: To allow kids to try out the mechanical riding animals. The video clip: My dad, riding a mechanical panda around the kiosk. The child inside of him just had to do it, I guess. He’s smiling—enjoying himself. I hear my mom laughing, along with her brother and his wife. Just writing this makes me giggle all over again.  Oh Dad—I could write a book on the silly ways you’ve made our family laugh. Thank-you!

When Dad turned 85, we, (as in the six of us kids, husbands, and grandchildren) planned a special event for him—a celebratory “roast” of sorts. It was my chance to bring humour into the celebration—and to hear his laugh once again.

So, I wrote and performed a little skit with my brother. I was Don Cherry and he was, “straight-man” Ron MacLean. I chose these two characters because: 1. My dad loves hockey, and has been a faithful Maple Leafs fan since the league began. 2. We grew up watching Hockey Night in Canada every Saturday night, and my dad has loved “Coach’s Corner” since its debut in 1980.

The opening scene: Ron MacLean (my brother) sits behind a desk, an empty chair beside him. The theme music to “Coach’s Corner” comes on. I walk in from the back, dressed in a flashy suit jacket, carrying my pet dog “Bull” (who is wearing a Maple Leafs jersey) under my arm. I sit down, and place the dog beside the desk on the floor.

And as I acted out my role, I listened. I heard my dad laugh, my siblings laugh, my relatives laugh.

There is something so satisfying in being able to sprinkle a bit of humour into people’s lives; but the ability to do so is also humbling because it is a gift—a gift given by God to remind people that God too loves it when we laugh and enjoy life and each other. And that we shouldn’t take ourselves so seriously so much of the time.

 I’m thankful for Dad’s legacy of laughter passed down to me. I hope, in some small way, I can live up to that legacy and spread God’s joy to the people around me, whether in the written word or the spoken word.

Connie Inglis currently serves as InScribe's spiritual advisor. 

Humour In My Life - Marnie Pohlmann

I woke with a start. My eyes roamed the darkness but could see nothing. I sniffed the air. There was no smoke. Yet something had awakened me. I flinched as my mind registered a sound. A steady hum, broken regularly by a loud growl. What was that? It sounded monstrous.

My feet slipped from under the covers onto the cold floor and I felt my way past my bedside table to approach the door from my bedroom to the hallway. A faint glow shone from the nightlight in bathroom lighting my way as I tiptoed down the hall toward Mom’s room.  Almost there.

The growl bellowed again as I stopped at the entry to the living room. It was in the living room! Could I pass by to get to Mom without being seen? I squatted low and peeked around the doorway, ready to make a dash by the opening. But what I saw calmed my thumping heart. I let out a deep breath and stood up. I walked into the room and turned the knob on the television, silencing the “off air” tone. Dad lifted his head from the couch, harrumphing mid-growl as he opened his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, “I was watching that!”

The gist of this story was my first attempt at humour, published in an elementary school anthology.

I am from a very “punny” family. Wordplay has probably helped in my writing, as did being raised on the Reader’s Digest clean stories in “Humour in Uniform” and “Laughter is the Best Medicine.” Quick responses, sometimes sarcasm, and building on each other’s silliness came naturally in our home.

I see this quick wit has passed on to my nieces and nephews, and to their children as well. I am grateful for Facebook, where these young parents post stories about the hilarious happenings in their homes. Out of the mouths of babes come both giggles and truth.

I admit, sometimes my humour can be inappropriate. After all, I was influenced by brothers! And at work, we may use black humour to deal with tough moments on the job. I have even laughed at funerals but in my defense, those men sitting at the edge of the room really did look like the old bankers in “Mary Poppins.” (I expected them to get up and dance.)

One of my sisters-in-law specializes in telling anecdotes about her daily life. She has no need to embellish the stories because such unexpected and funny occurrences could only happen to her. (Family, can you guess who I’m referring to?) She shows that it’s alright to laugh at yourself. Read on to hear me laughing at myself.

A few years ago, when we first moved to our present location, I looked to my new coworkers for advice about where to buy my husband a Christmas gift. I thought perhaps a new hunting knife would be good.

“Is Backwoods expensive?” I asked.

“About the same as any other place like that.”

“I’m not sure what Wally would like. Could I get a gift certificate?”

My co-worker paused her work to look at me. “I suppose so,” she said slowly. “Isn’t your husband a pastor?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t always a pastor.”

“And he likes that kind of stuff?”

“Oh, sure. He’s a bit of a redneck,” I laughed.

“Really?” her eyes grew large and she looked puzzled.

Across the room, another co-worker chuckled and joined our conversation.

“I think you meant Back Country, the sports shop,” she suggested.

“Yes, the sports shop. Back Country? What did I call it?”

Both ladies dissolved in laughter. “Backwoods. That’s the local stripper bar.”

Humour may have helped me start as a writer, and be bred into my genes, and present itself in my ordinary, daily life, but I don’t find writing humour easy at all. In fact, lately, I even seem to have lost my sense of “haha” or maybe it has been drowned with the tears from recent circumstances. Yet God still provides joy for my heart. The laughter of humour is circumstantial, but God’s joy is beyond any situation in which we might find ourselves. Peace amid grief, for example, is true joy, and that’s no laughing matter!

Writing for Entertainment: When is it funny? by Michelle M. Brown

Authors often struggle with knowing if they have infused their writing with emotion. Nonfiction writers record the facts about life events and, this genre does not allow the writer to create a story for the sake of entertainment. Recently, as I wrote my memoir, there were times when I had to distance myself emotionally to ensure an accurate account and, in that distance, I questioned if I didn’t lose the most critical part -- the emotional impact.

One powerful emotion that would attach value to any piece is humour, yet it can be the most difficult to add and complicated to define. Humour is influenced by experience and shaped by the natural inclinations and personal beliefs that are held by the reader. It is relative to a situation and how the reader relates to it. When we read a story, it is our ability to connect to it and how we view the peculiarities of life that define the emotional impact. Humour, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

In the book of Luke, Zechariah was struck mute by the angel Gabriel, because he did not believe Gabriel’s words.

“And the angel answered him, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time."” Luke 1:19-20 ESV

The story continues with Elizabeth giving birth to a son as foretold by Gabriel.

“Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. And her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. And on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child. And they would have called him Zechariah after his father, but his mother answered, "No; he shall be called John." And they said to her, "None of your relatives is called by this name." And they made signs to his father, inquiring what he wanted him to be called. And he asked for a writing tablet and wrote, "His name is John." And they all wondered. And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God. And fear came on all their neighbors. And all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea, and all who heard them laid them up in their hearts, saying, "What then will this child be?" For the hand of the Lord was with him.” Luke 1:57-66 ESV

There is humour to be found in this story. Zechariah was mute, not deaf. He may have written the words, “I can hear you, you fools” before he wrote anything else. Humour can be found in the absurdities of the moment, in the details that are not immediately obvious, and in the struggles we all share.

To fully succeed in writing for entertainment, a writer will include humour by telling a story that notes the idiosyncrasy and oddities that come with life. The unexpected in the normal.

---

Michelle M. Brown was born and raised in British Columbia, Canada. She has a background in Marketing & Design. An avid hiker and adventure junkie she has embarked on a journey to conquer 50 adventurous activities in her 50th year.

Humour, Writing and the Beautiful by Alan Anderson

Perhaps because I’m an introvert I have always used humour in my life one way or another. Humour to me, is a shining jewel that reminds me life is a gift. I like to think of funny things to share with people. My intent is to help people see the beautiful part of life even if times are tough. Indeed it is not always easy. Humour, you see, may come with a price.

Years ago I enjoyed the humour of the young comedian Freddie Prinze. I watched him on a TV show when he was teamed with an older comedian. They worked well together. Just when Freddie was becoming one of the funniest comedians on TV he committed suicide at the age of 22. In an interview with someone about Freddie Prinze his bouts with depression and drug addiction were discussed. The interviewee said that Freddie had stated sometime before his death, “I can’t hear the laughter anymore.”

There is often a dark side to humour. I read an article on a comedian talking about his craft. He mentioned that many comedians have experienced depression. Conditions like depression or perhaps difficult times in life can sharpen one’s humour.

I don’t talk often about my personal dark side, my struggles, yet they that have sharpened my humour. I find it easier to write than to talk about myself. Pretty well anything I write involves some example of the dark side of life, of grief, suffering, hardship, etc. I also use humour in my writing when appropriate. My humour never undermines the seriousness of the story.

Humour is beautiful. From a little twitter to a

rip-roaring guffaw I feel and hear joy that God has placed in our hearts. Life, of course, holds all sorts of experiences for us. I can be afraid, I can be depressed, I can weep hot tears of grief.

Humour is all the more sweet because of the dark side. It lightens my journey through life by freeing me to see the bigger picture. Life is a precious gift and because of humour it helps me to live for what I call “the beautiful.”

The beautiful may be seen in the wag of a dog’s tail, the purr of a kitten, the belly laugh of a baby. The beautiful can also be witnessed in the hug from a loved one or a wink from a stranger. When I have read a book that has gripped my attention I sense the beautiful. In my blog posts someone may comment they appreciate how I at times use humour in the message. What the reviewer has read is the presence of the beautiful.

Humour, writing and the beautiful are a great combination. They keep me motivated to allow the words in my head to form stories. In trials and tribulations I may be reminded of the beautiful even in the absence of humour or when it is hidden. Humour, however, may not be hidden for long.

You see, for humour to be hidden or absent or even shunned, life darkens. I have spent countless hours with people in their initial journey into grief. Most times humour is hidden. It is as if their grief has isolated them into a corner. The only sound a grieving person may hear for a while is their own screams, their own cries longing for their loved ones.

Oh, the sweetness of life when humour returns. Oh blessed Lord, you never left me, for I see your smile again on the faces of those who love me. I see the beautiful.

Blog: scarredjoy.wordpress.com

 

IF YOU DON'T LAUGH, YOU'LL CRY! ... by Jocelyn Faire

If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know the man, don’t bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, or seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you’ll get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he’s a good man…All I claim to know is that laughter is the most reliable gauge of human nature. — Feodor Dostoyevsky

The month's theme was difficult, and this surprised me, as I think of myself as having a good sense of humour. Earlier in the week I'd had this conversation with God:

Why am I having trouble with the humour topic this month?

Perhaps it is the heaviness you carry.

Yes, that could be. I'm not sure what it is and why I'm carrying it?

Let's figure it out. Perhaps you should let me carry it, I do have big shoulders.

First and foremost, I feel the heaviness because the furlough period of my daughter and her family is near the end and I feel I've not had enough time with them. When is there enough time? (But this truly was all bonus time, as they were on compassionate leave, my son-in-law's mother was dying, the original focus of their summer was to spend time with her.) Things progressed more quickly and they came out earlier in order to be with her on the palliative ward for ten days before her passing. There were many tears ... over the years, she had also become a good friend of mine, and a great prayer warrior for my daughter's family. The heaviness of a passing lingers, and their focus shifted to the dad left. Sadly it's taken until the middle of August to have a genuine connection with my grand daughter.

But be thankful you had that connection.

My husband has also been having a heavy time-August is the anniversary of his first wife's death, and the recall of his summer journey of 4 years ago has permeated our summer space.

But that too has lifted, and you my dear daughter have been a blessing in his life.

Thanks ... So what have I got to smile about? ... ok, that came out accidentally on the paper ... it was a thought that started to form a few times ... and I usually chastised myself before it fully formed. And now, here it makes itself known in print.

I'm gonna let that one pass—I'm fairly certain you don't want to ask that.

You're right God, I do not want to ask that ungrateful sounding question. I do need a bit of a shake of my head. Listen girl, (I say to myself) ... You're always saying that there is much beauty in this world, and think about it, laughter stems from appreciating the beauty of God. He has a great sense of humour.

God is at the centre of a well-sprung laugh, He is at the heart of Merry, the centre of Joy ... the true reason behind a good belly-laugh.

And besides that ... I know that I laugh more deeply with those that I have wept with.

End of conversation ...

And so I put on my rose coloured glasses to take another look back over the summer to recount the many times humour and laughter were infused. This incident came to mind to share here.

                                                                            Maya and myself

The laughter highlight came the August long weekend, when three adults, three children, a dog and cat travelled fourteen hours over three provinces to attend Canmore Folk festival in Alberta ... what were we thinking?? What originated as a three sisters get together expanded to include a niece from the UK and her three children ages 6, 9 and 12. (OK-the dog and cat were not true, that was an embellishment, but the oldest of the children is special needs, and that included a colostomy bag.) The third sister driving from the West coast had the easy drive. Our prairie group was packed like loose sardines in the van with coffee, sandwiches, snack and entertainment fixings ready for our 7am departure. I was the first driver and the plan was to rotate every few hours. My sister kissed her husband goodby (he was picked up by a friend for morning coffee). I looked into the rear view mirror to see smiling faces all around- a big thumbs up to all, and I put the van into reverse. BANG. Stunned, I looked into the rear view mirror again, to see that the pickup truck of the coffee duo was still there. They were not visible before, behind those smiling travellers. For just a moment we sat in silence and then I said “OK, two things—We are not going to let this ruin our holiday and Harold does not have to know about this.” We all burst into laughter. I did get out to inspect damages, hoping there would be none. But the truck grill, had a plastic piece that had clearly dislocated. I said to Iron Man, as he is known, Well you know where to find me, we'll just have to sort it out later. They drove off. This time I waited until I could see them driving toward Tim's before hitting reverse. The standing joke became that we truly started the weekend with a Bang. And truly it did get much better from there with much laughter and generational bonding. Sometime, in the future Harold will also hear the story ... maybe! Many things in life are on a need to know basis ... at this time, he does not yet need to know :)

                                                 Canmore Folk Festival Fun

Laughter IS the Best Medicine by Lynn Dove

You don't have to be around me long to know I love to laugh.  I have been told that I have a very distinct, and hearty laugh.  My husband has spent thirty-nine years in the pursuit of trying to make me laugh every single day.  I don't know who's more thrilled when he succeeds, me or him, but when I laugh, it just tickles his fancy too and before we know it, we're reduced to tears and both of us are chortling uncontrollably.  It's a happy marriage.


My three children have learned to accept our frequent fits of laughter and though they don't always understand what their parents find so funny at times, they explain it away as one of our many parenting quirks and find it endearing, although sometimes embarrassing, especially when we laugh hysterically in front of their friends.  They don't realize that most of the time, we find THEM funny!  Sorry kids! 


In writing, there are times an unexpected pun or a misspelling of a word, that changes the whole meaning of a sentence, will catch me off guard.  I'm a grammar hound when it comes to media.  I can't help cringe and chuckle at the grotesque misspellings I discover in commercials, ads and social media.  Occasionally spellcheck will have me giggling for a day at the nonsensical word it comes up with to use in a certain context.  Even when reading or writing the most serious of articles, I can be reduced to fits of laughter because of a spellcheck or misspelled faux pas. 


I will admit there have been very few times in my life, when I didn't find something to make me laugh at least once during the day.  Whether in my writing or interacting with my family, friends, or seeing something in media or on television; life definitely makes for some very funny moments IF we choose to see them.  Case in point:


I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2001.  That in itself is definitely NOT funny.  In fact, after the diagnosis, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to laugh again.  I was in a battle for my life and the usual twinkle of merriment in my husband's eyes was noticeably dimmed as we struggled as a couple to come to terms with our new reality.  My children ranged in age from five to fifteen, and I begged God to help me see the plan and purpose in this for me and my family. 


Days before my mastectomy surgery, I sat down at my computer and began to write a long letter to a friend asking her to pray for me.  I was terrified about the upcoming surgery and I honestly wasn't sure I would survive.  I was deeply depressed and I was facing a crisis of belief.  After the initial diagnosis I had "camped out" in Scripture, trying to find comfort in the Word, finally coming to Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before His Passion.  I wrote to my friend, "I feel like Jesus did when he prayed to His Father: "Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." Matthew 26:39.  After I had written that, my daughter who was fifteen at the time, leaned over my shoulder and began reading the letter.  She stopped when she read the scripture passage and gasped.  Then she started to giggle.  She couldn't stop and soon tears were streaming down her eyes and she pointed at the screen. 


I had thought my letter poignant and filled with pathos.  To see my child dissolved in laughter, was the least I had ever expected the letter to illicit and to tell the truth, I was more than a little upset by her insensitivity towards my dire health circumstances.  She was certainly old enough to understand the seriousness of the situation, and we had been very open with her about what I was about to face.  Then she pointed again and said, "Think about it, Mom...your surgery...a cup being taken from you...CUP?...bra cup...?"  It dawned on me the literal meaning she had picked up by reading the verse that I had connected to my particular circumstance and I started to laugh.  Before we knew it, we were hugging, laughing and crying uncontrollably.  After our laughter quieted, my oldest child, who had been bottling up her pent up emotions until then shared openly her real fear of losing me.  After reading my letter, she knew that if we could laugh, if God could allow laughter into our lives about something so very serious and at that VERY moment, she knew everything was going to be okay!


It was after that conversation, I revised my letter to my friend and changed it's original sombre tone to one of upbeat positivity and I shared what had just transpired between my daughter and me.  I asked my friend to pray of course for my upcoming surgery, but to also send me jokes, funny videos and humourous anecdotes throughout my recovery process.  Then I enlisted all my other friends and family to do the same, and from that day forward my email correspondence included every manner of frivolity that made me laugh and lifted my spirit through my surgeries and the chemotherapy treatments that followed.  My request went viral, and soon strangers from all over the world, were sending me encouraging scripture verses as well as fun, family-friendly jokes, riddles, puns and videos.  My husband, once again continued his quest of trying to make me laugh every day, so even on the day I asked him to shave my head bald after the first chemo treatment, I was laughing while he cried! 


I don't make light of the awful experience of cancer or the devastating consequences and treatments that accompany the disease.  I would NEVER wish the diagnosis on anyone, but I believe God used humour to encourage me through that most difficult time in my life.  Someone asked me how I could stay so upbeat during that two year battle and I responded, "I can laugh or I can cry, I choose to laugh." 


For me, laughter was, and still is, the best medicine.

Lynn Dove is the award-winning author, of the YA “Wounded Trilogy”- a contemporary Christian fiction series with coming-of-age themes.  A wife, mom, grandmother, and free-lance writer with articles published in several magazines and anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul books, her blog, “Journey Thoughts” is a Canadian Christian Writing Award winner.  Readers may connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and at lynndove.com