In an effort to learn something beneficial to share with my class in 10 days at the Southern Christian Writers Conference in Tuscaloosa, I’ve been working and reading and thinking and worrying.
Mostly worrying.
Here is what I have figured out so far.
I do not know how to write humor.
But I’m not telling that to Dr. David and Mrs. Joanne Sloan who invited me. I plan to stand up straight and act like I know what I’m doing, and hopefully fool them. Hey, it has happened before. I pastored six churches for 42 years. I know a lot about sucking it up and acting like I’m capable.
By now you’re wondering why I was invited to teach this class when so many “real” writers with impressive resumes are available. You’re not alone. I’m wondering the same thing.
The short answer is that I come cheap. The longer answer is that I come really, really cheap. Like, I’d do it for nothing, you know?
Erma Bombeck and Art Buchwald couldn’t come, tied up as they are teaching similar classes on a much higher level. In heaven, actually.
I assume.