I can’t write comedy. It’s quite tragic, but upon expressing my lamentations to an English teacher I was simply told, “Well a lot of people can’t write comedy while young. You need to empty yourself of all the serious topics you want to write about first.”
I apologize, she was probably more eloquent than that.
A large part of me wanted to yell, “BULLSHIT!” in her face and walk off in a huff and return an hour later with a masterpiece; something early SNL writers would trip over each other for. The larger part of me said, “Oh, I see,” and continued showing her my Common Application essay.
Perhaps it’s partially me – I’m more A type than I like to admit. I know there are many young writers who can make me chuckle. But me? When I was five I told my mom that I wanted “real homework.” That is, I might add, the first and last time I uttered that phrase.
I suppose until I strike comedy gold I’ll stick to family drama and pondering the universe like a stodgy, old professor. Sounds like a plan.