Tim Relf

part of a joke in three acts for drinkers and writers

1 Setup

The human brain responds well to patterns. It’s why we like stories, and stories have to start
somewhere. But the further you go back, the less trustworthy they become. We won’t,
therefore, begin this decades ago. Also, let’s avoid any cliched attempt at an attention-
grabbing opening. You know the sort of thing. ‘It was 3am when the phone rang’ or ‘I
shouldn’t have got in the car that night’ or ‘I first tasted alcohol on 21 June 2005’. I could just
begin with ‘My name is…’ Or maybe with some humour — because there was humour back
then. A lot, in fact. That was part of the problem. So how about a joke? It begins: ‘A man
walks into a bar…’

2 Confrontation

For a narrative to work, it’s important that its characters change. But what if nothing
changes? What if the same thing happens over and over? What if that character, our
protagonist, keeps walking into a bar? Strike out repetition, editors tell you — but sometimes
there is only repetition. It’s also vital to show not tell. Saying ‘everything fell apart’ is not
enough. We need detail. Tears on platform 4 at Birmingham New Street or the shapes mould
makes on a wall. You probably want more action, more intrigue, maybe scenes on multiple
continents. There were all those things, but they were secondary to the love interest. The love
interest was called Smirnoff.

3 Resolution

Readers like twists. But it’s not much of a twist, is it — years of a man thinking, every time he
walked past a bar: Don’t. It shouldn’t be that hard — just to keep walking. But it was. It is.
That’s another thing he… OK, let’s quit the he / you / I charade… I’ve always struggled with
in my writing. Tenses. Right now, I feel an urge to write ‘the end’, but what if we’re not there
yet? What if this story flashes forwards or back? The best endings are the ones the writer —
like the reader — never sees coming, but seem inevitable when they arrive. So, as we wait for
the inevitable, how about we conclude for now where we began (always a popular trick
among storytellers) with the first few words of a joke. The punchline can come later. ‘A man
walks into a bar…’

Tim Relf’s work has appeared in Banshee, The London Magazine, Acumen, Bad Lilies, The Rialto, Stand, The Frogmore Papers, Poetry Salzburg and The Friday Poem. He is an alumnus of Faber's Advanced Poetry Academy and Writing East Midlands' mentoring scheme. His most recent novel, which was published by Penguin, has been translated into more than 20 languages. 

Tim wrote the following about his poem:

Compelling novels often follow set structural patterns. It’s the same with films and TV shows. Even jokes. The stories we tell about ourselves are often less ordered, though — partly because life isn’t ordered and partly because our memories are unreliable narrators. I had such notions in mind when I set out to write a poem about alcohol — because storytellers, like raconteurs and drinkers, can be slippery characters, presenting ‘truths’ rather than ‘facts’ and playing with perspective and time.