I Write Humour Because I Get Sad Sometimes

That’s me, the sad clown in the picture.

It’s not that I can’t be serious.

I’m a pretty level-headed person in real life. Some might go as far as to call me grave in personality. I write grocery lists and fret endlessly about the world and whether or not I am raising my children in the right way.

As writers, what are we striving for?

I will never be an Ayn Rand or Herman Melville. My stories are too on the nose and, frankly, shallow to hold anything more than a few laughs while poking fun at my many idiosyncrasies.

Of course, the dangerous thing about humour is that there will always be some who don’t get the joke.

Or, simply don’t like the joke. I don’t know which is worse. Writing humour is often a precarious game. There’s less of an audience, and the prose must be honed perfectly for the results to land.

It is crucial, as storytellers, that we continue to write from the truth.

Of course, I’m sure I could come up with articles that may please a larger audience with a more relevant subject matter, but would it feel authentic? Probably not.

Mother, writer, user of too many hashtags.

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