When I was young, I was really obsessive.
Being a writer means having many goals to aspire to.
Firstly, there are the obvious ones. The initial one that comes to mind is simply write lots of books. And then, once those books have been written, sell lots of copies and have lots of people read them.
A few weeks ago, as I first dipped a nervous toe into the unknown waters of 2019, I published my list of goals for the year.
You may recall that it wasn’t extensive. In fact, the only goal I was prepared to list was making progress on my current novel. The plan was to begin pretty much now. As you read this post, I should already be hard at work pulling apart and putting back together the fairly garbled prose of my first draft. Except I’m not.
I’m really in awe of people who can think on their feet. The kind of people who can come up with ideas in the middle of conversations. The kind of people who can hit you with a quick fire retort without any effort. The kind of people who can figure out how to do things right away, and then get on with it.
I like to write about stuff. Serious stuff.
I know. Aren’t I supposed to be a humorous writer? Isn’t my primary aim meant to be to make people laugh?
Well, yes, I suppose it is. But humour can be so much more than just funny stuff, good for a giggle and little else. Humour is also a great way to present serious issues. In particular, it’s a really great way to cut right down to the core of an issue.