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How to Write IRONY

Published by Scott on June 4, 2021

Writing a story with irony without knowing what irony is would be… ironic??

Let’s chat about irony, then write some short ironic tales together!

During the last stream, a subscribers requested that we go over how to write irony.

How to Write Irony

  • There are lots of different kinds of irony that can be used for different reasons in stories
  • Let’s take a quick look at a couple of examples, then practice writing a story of our own that uses them
  • The inspiration for today’s stream came from this video by Shaelin, a writing YouTuber, so check it out!

#1. Dramatic Irony

  • When the reader knows something the character doesn’t
  • Typically this is used for comedic/tragic effect
  • Example: At the end of Romeo and Juliet, when Romeo kills himself because he thinks Juliet is dead, but the audience knows that she’s only sleeping, it heightens the dread

#2. Situational Irony

#3. Verbal Irony

  • When the actual meaning of a statement is the opposite of what’s being said
  • Typically this is used for comedic effect/character voice
  • Example: In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, when we first meet the Weasleys, we get this dialogue between Percy and Fred/George:

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” Percy said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—”

“Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

  • That underlined sentence is verbal irony
  • Not only is it funny, but it also contrasts the twins with the rest of the group, making their personalities immediately stick out

After that, we got a random Wikipedia image for inspiration to write some stories with irony in them. Chat voted on this one:

The New Ulm Enterprise, a half-German newspaper from July 20, 1917

We actually came up with TWO story ideas using irony.

Here’s the first one we wrote:

SITUATIONAL IRONY

Henry made his way down to Edward T. Jenison, the local optometrist in Brenham, Texas. He’d been recommended the specialist by everyone in town — Jimmy at the cash register at Brenham General, Georgie from the watering hole, Gunther from the gun parlor — and each one had only splendid things to say. Not to mention a splendid pair of seeing-eye glasses resting on the bridge of their nose.

“Mr. Jenison can fix you up real nice,” Gunther had said, his eyes big as eggs behind his spectacles. “Much better than that old quack Dr. Chamberlain down Durden Street. Ain’t done nothing for my headaches besides a bunch of snake-oil pills!”

With a bit of pep in his step, Henry entered Mr. Jenison’s fine establishment and was greeted with a hearty handshake. Hopefully a sign of good tidings. He told the kind man that he’d been having trouble seeing things farther away than usual. 

“No worries, my son,” Mr. Jenison said, bug-eyed with his own coke-bottle glasses. “Let’s slap some blinkers on you and you’ll be right as rain!”

Illustrations by cozyrogers

Soon enough Henry found himself sitting in the chair, staring at the ABCs on the wall. The good Mr. Jenison was popping frames on and off Henry’s face before he could even say if they were better or worse.

“No worries, no worries,” Mr. Jenison said. “I been in this business long enough to know which one’s best by just looking at ya. Ah! Here we go. Told ya. Bet you’re seeing a lot better now, huh?”

Henry blinked through the final pair of lenses. They were so thick and powerful it felt like two telescopes resting on his nose. The ABC chart was still a little blurry, but if he squinted he could make it out more easily than before.

“Atta boy!” Mr. Jenison said, slapping Henry’s back. “I like to call squinting ‘eye exercises.’ Good for the ocular muscles!”

Henry stood and thanked the kind Mr. Jenison, paying the full two dollars for the glasses. As he was making his way to leave though, he felt a storm cloud brewing behind his forehead, and pressed his fingers against it.

“Ah, you caught the headaches that are going around,” Mr. Jenison said. “I got them myself, and that Dr. Chamberlain, his pills haven’t done diddly squat. You’re welcome to take mine if you want, I don’t trust the man anymore.”

Henry said he’d love to at least try them, and Mr. Jenison waved to several glass pill bottles on his table.

“I’ll leave it to you then to pick them out,” he said. “I myself, I can’t see well enough to read the labels.”

Here’s the second one:

DRAMATIC IRONY

July 20, 1917. America had been at war with Germany for four months, and things were not easy for German-Americans back home. Simply having an accent, or Schmidt or Schneider for a last name, invited questions asking if you were loyal to the kaiser. Once beloved members of communities were now spoken of as merely “hyphenated Americans.”

Among them was Franz Braun, the editor for the local German-speaking newspaper in New Ulm, Texas. As an American-born patriot, he’d held his head high as angry grumbles and hissing whispers about his ancestry slithered by him on the daily. He’d act as a shining example of what all proud German-Americans should be!

And he was repaid handsomely, getting more offers than ever before of advertisements for his newspaper, the New Ulm Enterprise!

“Put this in your newspaper,” the chairman of Carmine baseball stadium said. “Tell everyone that German boy, ‘Fritz’ let’s call him, he got himself a hit. They can come on down and see if he’ll do it again sometime!”

Usually Franz had to make do with the classified advertisements, selling limp horses and hiring servant girls. He’d never so much as spoken to a big name advertiser before, so much as had an offer from one!

“We’ll do our darndest, sir!” Franz said. “Give it an illustration and everything.”

But that was only the beginning. Later that day a doctor — an actual doctor! — showed up to give Franz an exclusive opportunity to advertise his latest discovery.

“I call it Dr. Chamberlain’s Colic and Diarrhea Remedy!” he said. “It’ll be the talk of the town soon enough, and I want you to get the scoop.”

Franz was honored, but his journalistic integrity tugged at him.

“Thank you doctor. But would we be able to publish your medical credentials along with the advertisement?”

“No need, my boy!” the doctor said. “Just put down that John. F Jantzen vouches for it. Everyone knows John. His word’s stronger round these parts than any fancy diploma-waving dickeroony!”

“Thank you, sir,” Franz said. “We will make you proud.”

Just as Franz was wondering how he was going to fit all these wonderful advertisements onto his single-page paper, the final offer came in from the least expected source.

“Name’s Richard Johnson,” he said, extending his hand to Franz. “Manager of Muesse’s Hall. You might’ve heard of it?”

Of course Franz had heard of it! Muesse’s Hall was where they showed all of the moving pictures. He’s never been able to afford to go himself, but he’d heard about it all the time.

“We have a great new flick coming in,” Richard said. “Called ‘The Fall of a Nation.’ Beautiful. Gorgeous. Gonna be huge! July 15th, one week, I want your paper to tell folks to be there.”

Franz had never felt more proud of his town. His community. Maybe other places made “hyphenated Americans” feel unwelcome, but not here in New Ulm.

“And I don’t just want your newspaper’s audience there,” Richard said, banging his knuckles on Franz’s deck. “I want you there too. Opening night!”

All week Franz couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, and he showed up to Muesse’s Hall right on the dot, at the start of the premiere. So many of his newspaper’s readers were there too, in the lobby, telling him how they’d saved some money to come see the flick thanks to his advertisement.

Then they all shuffled into the theater, the lights dimmed, the picture started moving on the screen.

And Franz’s week-long smile died.

The “European Confederated Army,” headed by Germany, invaded America and slaughtered children and war veterans alike. Franz couldn’t even hear the music playing over the growing howls from the audience. The American audience.

All of them seething and spitting at the hyphenated Americans.

If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.

And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.

Hope to see you next time, friend!

Top images: Pakutaso

 

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