humor


Erma Bombeck

I just spent a fabulous 3 days in Dayton, Ohio (yes, it’s possible to have a fabulous time there.)  I attended my first ever Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop, a bi-annual coming-together of humor writers.

Attendees run the gamut of published authors, screen-writers, bloggers, social media fanatics and those who were just dipping their toe in the stream of writing.  There was a fantastic line up of presenters and speakers, including, but certainly not limited to:

W. Bruce Cameron-author of my favoritest-ever (yes, that’s my word) book, “A Dog’s Purpose.” (Which, by the way, will be made into a movie soon.)

Craig Wilson-USA Today feature writer and author of “It’s the Little Things: An Appreciation of Life’s Simple Pleasures.”

Adriana Trigiani-writer for The Cosby Show and A Different World, and author of “Lucia, Lucia” and “Big Stone Gap” which was where Adriana and I both began our lives.

Irene Beckerman– whose writing career began at the age of 60 (Oh, thank you, Irene- there is STILL hope for me!)

Alan Zweibel, one of the original writer’s for “Saturday Night Live.” He also wrote  for “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show,” “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” and the movie “North”, among others.

Dave Fox-author of Globejotting and Getting Lost, and who I consider responsible for my enthusiasm about writing humor. I’ve taken 2 of Dave’s online humor-writing classes, and he encouraged me to go to the EBWW conference.

There were many more inspirational presenters at the conference, and, perhaps most inspirational of all was Erma’s family. Each family member read one of their favorite columns written by Erma, and gave us a piece of their own life with the woman we all consider “Mom.”

The presenters were unique, but the message was the same. Keep writing. Do what you love. Persevere.  “Overnight success is a myth, so don’t give up!”  That is exactly what I needed to hear. Muchas Gracias!

My roommate, Angela, was a former classmate in Dave’s online humor classes, and, although we were virtual strangers, we at least had a clue that we would get along.  She knew my penchant for wine and dropping the “F” bomb, and still agreed to let me room with her.

One problem.

Angela is a “low talker.”  (Remember Seinfield’s Puffy-Shirt episode?)

I am deaf.

No, not totally deaf, but I struggle to hear, much less understand, anything quieter than a passing fire truck or dynamite blast.  I have no idea what I nodded and smiled about for the first hour in our room, but after showing her my hearing aids and asking her to please yell at me, we hit it off. We’re even talking about taking a trip to Asia next year.

Polly arrived 8 ½ months pregnant, but other than that she seemed normal.

Then the truth came out.

Polly is a Mormon.

I’m from rural Appalachia. I’ve never met a real Mormon in person. My exposure lies in the endless TV ads that have ambushed us every 5 minutes, ever since Mitt Romney began his bid for president. You’ve probably seen them: Drug addicts, ex-convicts, Walmart greeters…  Each commercial ends in “I am a Mormon.

Maybe they should get Polly on that ad, saying she’s a Mom and a writer. It would have laid my fears to rest, for sure.

The bottom line is this. Last weekend I was exposed to some of the funniest, funnest, coolest and genuinely warmest people I’ve ever met. Thank you, Erma, for your gift.

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The Cracker Queen

This weekend I attended an excellent and entertaining workshop presented by the Atlanta Writer’s Club. I’ve been working on a couple of writing projects for awhile, now, and seem to have hit a wall.  Lauretta Hannon (The Cracker Queen) spoke on the importance of platform for writers. She kept us on our toes with crucial tips to getting ourselves “out-there.”  I totally love that Lauretta, like myself, is a “Whup-Ass Southern Woman”.  The “anti-Southern Belle”.  I am looking forward to reading her book “The Cracker Queen”.

2 hours into the workshop, our break was announced. Immediately,  100 women ran to get in line for the 2 stalls in the bathroom. Thankfully, I’m retaining water, (another symptom of Mental Pause,) so I wasn’t so desperate to pee just then.  So I took the opportunity to buy a book and get it signed. While in the book line, I had a brief conversation with a nice 70-something gent about the book he is writing.  Then I  got in the (now shorter) bathroom line.

As soon as I came out of the bathroom,  the man approached me.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” he asked.

Shit! 

“Well, I’m married,” I replied.

He looked at my hand.  “You are? I don’t guess that would sit too well with your husband,”  he replied.

I held up my naked ring finger. “Oh, well, see, I don’t have my wedding band on because I’ve gained so much weight, I don’t know if it’s water or age or what, I had to take it off and I just can’t get it back on and it cuts off my circulation and I’d hate to lose that finger and all, I tried to get it re-sized but it was too expensive so I probably should just lose weight but it’s really hard…

I have no idea the purpose of that aimless babble. We both stood there for an awkward moment before the lights flashed, marking the end of the break.

I dashed back to my seat and pretended to scrutinize my notes.

I felt bad for him, sort of. I mean, he put himself  “out there,” which, I bet, is really hard to do. Especially when you’re, um, old.  Then again, good for him. I admire his balls. You know what I mean.

After the conference, I ran into him in the doorway.

“Good Luck,” I smiled, not sure if I meant with his book or finding a date.

On the drive home, I thought about the day. The workshop. The man. The necessity to “put ourselves out there” in order to achieve what we want. I vowed to make more of an effort, even at the risk of rejection, to accomplish my goals. Yep, starting now, I’m gonna put myself out there. Thanks, Lauretta. Thanks, Mr. Man.