BULLETIN: Today I am funny. One good poem in the bag. Now for two. Gulp.
I’m working into a collection of funny poems. Only so far not a single one is funny. Everything I’ve done is trite, lame, forced, common. I cannot keep any of these. I’m not feeling funny. I haven’t found my groove. It is SO hard to be funny without finding that sweet spot. How on earth do the comedians do it? They work their socks off and some come unglued from the strain.
Think about the truly funny children’s poets among us. Make a list. It’s short. Plenty of clever ones. But funny? Not so many. How do you write funny? I’ll talk about that during the workshop later this month. Being funny is serious work. The wind has to be just so, the coffee or tea or wine or sandwich perfect, the stars lined up in the right order. It’s complicated, isn’t it, being funny?
At Hallmark years ago for a brief time we had a comic genius on the writing staff. He was a former cab driver, restless, talkative, always on his feet. He’d wander around the department all day, interrupting other writers, telling jokes, apparently stealing time from the company.
Then at some point he’d sit down and jot off something so zany and off the wall you just had to laugh and share it with everyone else. How the devil did he do that? I finally had to run him off, and I hated it. He just could not fit in; maybe he never did anywhere. Sometimes I think about him and wonder what happened to him. He was so funny.
But back to me. After all, it is my blog. And I’m not funny. At least not today. Tomorrow I might be. It just didn’t happen today. And that, my friends, is no laughing matter.