I used to write a regular column for a fortnightly woman’s magazine. My brief was to produce, in return for a modest stipend, a humorous contribution every month which would alternate with a syndicated column from US humourist Dave Barry.
Writing a funny column is no laughing matter. One problem is that we don’t all find the same things funny and some people have no sense of humour at all. So, long before words start to form on the computer screen, various ideas have to be considered for their comic potential with many tossed aside as unsuitable. Which means that a fair amount of sweat goes into producing what might eventually pass as a humorous piece. Apart from a promising comic idea, there is also the language to be carefully considered and, of course, the rhythm of the writing. Get the rhythm wrong and the whole thing can fall flat. Read PG Wodehouse and you will experience the master of comic writing at work.
Having submitted several pieces which were published and positively received I found a message on my answer-phone one morning from the then assistant editor of the magazine asking me to phone her. I did so and she told me that they had decided to hold my piece over that month because the editor didn’t think it was funny enough. There’s not much you can say in response to that but something worried me so I asked the assistant editor what she thought of the piece. She said she thought it was well up to the usual standard and had laughed, albeit quietly, to herself at some parts. I found myself even more confused and, not being familiar with the ways of women’s magazines, asked her why the editor hadn’t phoned me herself if she was the one with the problem. Apparently it’s a hierarchical thing. For example, when the head honchos of women’s magazines go out to lunch together and the waiter asks them if they are enjoying their meal it is the job of the assistant editor to complain that the editor’s salad leaves are too bitter.
Anyway I suggested that it might be better if the editor phoned me and explained the problem first hand. The call came and the hapless woman tried to find the words to explain why she hadn’t found the piece funny. If somebody doesn’t find you amusing it is pointless trying to argue otherwise so, being a true Renaissance man, I sympathised with her and told her that I didn’t find Dave Barry particularly funny and it was nothing to be ashamed of. I merely assured her that I would not have consented to have the article published under my by-line if I had been in any way unhappy with the content. The risk was therefore all mine and the magazine’s impeccable reputation for cutting edge humour would hardly suffer from carrying one possibly funny (but maybe not so) article by me. I then did the decent thing and suggested that I no longer contribute to the magazine. She was horrified. No, I must continue to write a humorous column for them she told me.
Now, being told by your female editor that you’re not very funny is rather like being told that you’re a lousy lover with the chances of turning in a better performance next time round greatly diminished by fears of under-performance. So we went our separate ways. The offending article was later published under a new editor several months later which indicates that if women’s magazines are desperate enough for copy they’ll print anything. And that’s no joke.