“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.” – Mel Brooks
Just a quick note, as I’m sick of looking at the entry on the organization of library materials.
I just sat here and created a new blog entry, but I’ve decided not to post it. I will however give you the last line, which in itself will explain why I chose not to publish it. Ahem:
“Sorry, everybody. I’ve just subjected you to a great deal of whining that could have been tidily pared down to ‘Jessica’s despressed, and the weather’s hot.’ “
Thing is, I love to read fiction about despair and death and wretchedness, but I don’t want to sit through a real person’s account of being miserable and neither do you. I’ll make exceptions if the misery involves humorous episodes (“That part where she fell down the sewer was hysterical“) but I haven’t done anything especially funny recently, so I’m not going to make you read through an account of my existentialist hand-wringing.
So yes, if anyone at home is keeping tabs, Jessica is officially miserable, but that’s nothing new. And also it’s hot. Moving on:
I have decided that, when I grow up and become a writer, the person I most want to be compared to is Terry Pratchett. I want the blurbs on the back covers to liken me to him, especially concerning the similarities in humor. Because I do not watch television or get out much and because, essentially, I live in a cave (me and three kitties in a cave, it’s very cosy, if somewhat gravelly) no one will ever say “Ah, that Jessica Zellers infuses her works with clever cultural references, just like Terry Pratchett does!” but I invite future critics of my many novels, not one word of which has yet been written, to kindly bear in mind that I will graciously invite comparisons to our similar aptitudes for the comedic.
So now all I have to do is write a book that is sidesplittingly funny. Perhaps… I know! Someone should fall down a sewer and die! Okay, there’s my plot, this thing’s practically gonna write itself!