How to be an American Humorist: Lessons from Mark Twain

Twain's secrets to success extrapolated to the digital age

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In 2015 I received an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts in creative non-fiction.  My interest was humor writing.  I had hoped I would find a mentor at Vermont, maybe someone with an inside track somewhere.   And I found just the right person.  Unfortunately, he died over 100 years ago.  It is Mark Twain.  One of the requirements of the MFA program was to give a lecture.  My lecture was titled:  “How to Be an American Humorist: Lessons from Mark Twain.”

I focused on his nonfiction book Innocents Abroad, describing his travels with a church group to Europe and the Holy Lands in 1865. It illustrates his humor writing techniques – all of which I have tried to adopt. 

Lesson No. 1

Make fun of yourself before you make fun of anyone else.  You are your own best subject, don’t be meanspirited.  Innocents Abroad has hilarious passages about Twain bouncing along on a donkey or getting a shave in Paris.  He constantly pokes fun at himself, which gives him permission to tease the staid and pretentious church group he travels with.  I’ve written essays about my flailing attempt to be a senior ice hockey goalie (see previous post: My Short Sweet Life as a Human Target), or my faux pas at a baby shower when I gave the mother-to-be raw steaks as a gift, fixings for a celebratory dinner for the happy couple, but unfortunately the steaks got ragged and bloody in the pile of gifts (see previous post: Bad Baby Shower).  There’s plenty of material in my life.

Lesson No. 2

Be a great noticer.  Twain’s humor was based on exploiting the discrepancies and incongruities that he observed around him – and in fact this was one of his signature traits that I am trying to imitate.  I was doing a routine errand in the car when I heard a Panera ad promoting their “freshly cracked eggs.”  What the hell is that?  (Remember your grammar.  The adverb “freshly” only describes the cracking and not the egg, but how else are you going to crack an egg?)  I pulled into the next Panerra to investigate. 

Lesson No. 3

Choose words carefully, use misdirection.  Twain creates humor by leading the audience one way and then snapping back.  In one passage in Innocents Abroad he gives a flowery description of a beautiful girl sitting in front of him at the theater.  The girl turns and we’re expecting Twain to be enthralled.  Instead, the girl says,  “Auntie, I just know that I’ve got 500 fleas on me.”  Here’s another tip – be specific with your details.  Twain’s 500 fleas, are much funnier than saying I’m covered with fleas.” 

Misdirection also works at the level of a single word.  Here’s Twain’s description of a Parisian shave, something he had anticipated with great enthusiasm. 

I submitted and went through with the cruel infliction of a shave by a French barber; tears of exquisite agony coursed down my cheeks.

Notice the word “exquisite.”  Most of us would consider “exquisite” a positive adjective, for example extolling art and beauty.  But here Twain uses it to intensify agony.  Then he uses it a second time -  he describes a reed instrument as exquisitely infernal.  I was filled with joy when I discovered that I unwittingly share the same verbal tic with my mentor.  I found the following examples in my writing: 

“exquisite hygiene,” an “exquisite ass,” an “exquisitely-designed sphincter” and a mouth sore that is “exquisitely painful.” 

Some words are just funnier than others.  I wrote a very dull story about  a pair of pants but improved it immensely when I subbed in “trousers” for pants.  Trousers is a funnier word.   Don’t know why.  Well-crafted word play will also earn you the satisfying title of “witty” or “clever,” in my mind much preferred over broad or prankster humor.

Lesson No. 4

Embrace your identity as a humorist.  Twain was initially conflicted about his identity as a humor writer.  He saw it as underappreciated art, writing “it takes a heap of sense to write good nonsense.”  Patrick McManus, a short story humor writer, notes “Humor is far more complex than tragedy and taps into more complex emotions.  It requires more mental and emotional dexterity, more intelligence.  Poignancy is ten cents a ton.  If we need poignancy, we can kill the family dog.”

Twain wrote to his brother Orion, “I have a call to literature of a low order, i.e., humorous.  It is nothing to be proud of, but it is my strongest suit … poor, pitiful business.”  In 1887 he commented, “My books are water; those of the great geniuses are wine.”  But then in a sly aside he added, “everyone drinks water.”

Lesson No. 5

Seek alternative forms of publishing.  Twain faced the same challenges that writers face today in the quest for external validation through publication.  As a western writer he was up against the skepticism of the New York publishing world. 

Innocents Abroad was not traditionally published; it was initially distributed through subscriptions sold by agents selling door-to-door.  The salesforce was composed of post-Civil War widows or disabled soldiers.  I see a direct corollary with our digital age, offering alternatives to bypass the bottleneck of traditional publishing.  If I extrapolate Twain’s direct-to-consumer strategy to the present day, the publishing model that makes the most sense to me is to build a readership on Substack and then compile the essays into a book. 

Lesson No. 6

Leverage everything you write.  Mark Twain was a pro at repurposing all of his writing.  The chapters of Innocents Abroad first appeared as newspaper articles, which he then compiled into a book, his first. 

I’m all in on my man Twain.  I leverage everything I write into a podcast, which I post alongside my Substack blog entries.  The podcasts are also available on Apple Music or Spotify.  Search under Liza Blue Humorist. 

Lesson No. 7

Become a Storyteller.  Twain was a consummate story-teller.  It was part of his core identity.  His lectures were turned into stories, and his stories into lectures.  Even though it was totally out of my comfort zone (i.e. alone in front of my computer), I headed off to a storytelling workshop, which concluded with an open mike night at a bar.  Suddenly I was on stage, nervously telling my Bad Baby Shower story.  What a rush – people laughing where you think they should, surprising you with laughs in different places and then clapping at the end. 

I think of the woman in the front row at another storytelling performance who gasped as I told a story about falling off the boat.  She was truly scared for me.  I think of the total stranger at the crowded quilt show who tapped me on my shoulder and told me she enjoyed one of my stories from the night before.  Both provided me the external validation I was looking for.

Yes, getting my work published in an on-line magazine is a form of external validation, but once published, I have no idea of the readership or whether the readers enjoyed it.  All I know is that I have passed the bottleneck of the editor.  Storytelling feedback is immediate and much more satisfying. 

Lesson No. 8

Create a brand.  Twain’s iconic brand is recognizable today.  White suits, flowing hair, exquisite moustache.  And then of course his name itself - Mark Twain is more familiar than his given name of Samuel Clemmons.  Following Twain’s advice, I decided to rebrand my given name, Elizabeth Brown.  It’s too ordinary.  I wanted something peppier, more recognizable.  My brother once suggested that our family consider a different color for our last name and swap Brown for Blue.  I glommed onto this, trimmed my given name of Elizabeth into Liza and now use the  writing name of Liza Blue.   It’s a name with rhythm and personality.

The average length of my essays is between 1,000 and 2,000 words, which takes about ten minutes to read.  My presumption is that ten minutes is the attention span of reading on the small screen of the tablet or phone, far different than spending quality time with a traditional book on your lap, riffling through the pages.

Once I posted an essay and then left to pick up my son at the airport.  When I met him at the curbside, thirty minutes later, he told me he liked it.  He had read it while standing at the back of the plane waiting to get off. 

This is my brand – quick and quirky reading material to fill those moments of forced idleness. 

The airport is full of these opportunities, waiting for a mammogram is another.

Lesson No. 9

Networking.  Over the past 15 years, I have distributed my essays to family and friends through my own email distribution list.  This year I decided it was time to expand this audience.  I want to “find my strangers.”  I’m always amazed at the vast list of acknowledgements at the end of a book.  That is some serious networking. 

Even if you are lucky enough to get a traditional publisher, unless you are a kick-ass writer with an established fan base, you will be asked to do your own promotion, set up your own readings at bookstores, libraries, etc.  In considering your manuscript, a publisher will ask you to describe your “platform,” i.e. a social media presence you’ve built yourself.    

Mark Twain was an excellent networker.  He cultivated a vast array of writers and notables, including, among others, Helen Keller, Ulysses Grant, and Nikola Tesla.  For me, networking has been the elusive piece of the total Twain package – one that requires a different set of skills than the writing itself.  When I watch one of those singing competition shows, I am routinely amazed at the stunning voices – so much hidden talent out there, but talent that will stay hidden because of lack of the required networking skills. 

Now I think I’ve found a way forward.  Substack has given me the tools I need to build a community.  All the pieces have fallen into place.  I’m grateful to my mentor Mark Twain and hope to make him proud.