Friday, September 23, 2011


There are days when I wish I was a clever writer. Or witty. Or even just amusing. Then there are other moments of temporary brilliance when a funny line pops out--usually by accident more than design.

For the most part, I'm not a funny person. For the most part, I'm not even mildly amusing. So when a funny appears in my writing, I have to take a few moments and query the origin. Where did that come from?

More than likely it was hiding in the darkest part of my brain waiting for the epic opportunity to make its escape. Then when my attention is directed at such things as plot or character or goodness knows even story arc, there's the chance! The one-liner zips out of hiding.

The only time I ever intentionally allowed the critturs in that dark part of my brain to escape, they went wild. I ended up with a series called the Flowers of Camelot. Strange things happened. Odd characters grabbed the plot and ran as though escaping the great zucchini peeler.

Why does that happen, I wonder? Am I tired? Am I bored? Where has my funny gone? Or are all the one-liners cowering in the dark, terrified of what will happen if I allow them the freedom to leave?