Writing Humor Ain’t Funny

Okay, well maybe it is. I mean I do make myself laugh out loud at my own brilliance, except for the moments when I’m jeering at my total lack of talent.

I’ve never set out to write a funny book before. The four other novels I’ve written have had funny moments, which is what led me to believe I might actually have what it takes. But I’ve been known to deceive myself before.

Excerpt from today’s writing on Jazzy’s Ghost, my new work in progress:

Monty’s eyes followed the graceful figure of the alleged murderer collecting his date from the guru du jour, and thought back over the events of the last few days. A memory was jogged, Chelsea Palmier.

There may not be smoke there, but a simple fanning of smoldering coals might burst into flame.

Are you jealous, lover? Jazzy’s ghost spun a silky thread of herself from Monty’s mouth, a cool kiss blowing across his lips. Her long legs and delectable bottom coalesced in mid-air in front of his face and drifted down to hover just above the ground as he watched the rest of her naked body appear. His dead wife peered coyly over one shoulder, hands on her knees, and tempting as hell. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out to touch her.

“I see you,” cried Mrs. Wallingford from directly behind him, making him jump. “You naughty boy, you’ve been hiding all night.” She wrapped an arm through one of his, capturing his now frustrated attention. “You know, my oldest girl is only a few years younger than you, Monty. I’m sure you remember her? Jessica?” Monty was steered back into the throng of his party, Jazzy’s laughter ringing in his head sub-vocally.

Oh well. It’s making me laugh. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

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