We are very excited to welcome our friend, Renae Kaye to Two Men, talking about a topic very close to her heart!
Give me some more of that humour!
Everyone has a sense of humour. But there are a lot of different senses, and a lot of different humours. As a woman, I don’t get fart jokes. I just don’t. Men seem to adore them. I blink and change the subject, really quick. Ejections of (often) smelly air from our bodies in loud, noisy ways do not tickle my funny bones. Yeah. Umm.
My mother tells me I share the same humour as my father – and I have to concede she is right. Some of my precious memories are of sitting over breakfast, passing the comics back and forth with my father and laughing so hard I was snorting milk. We would try to make Mum join in, but she never got it. Her humour is different from ours.
Humour is often selective like that. People describe humour with terms such as “dry wit” or “sarcastic comebacks”. You can be jovial or straight-faced or even droll. I’m not really quite sure what I am. I just know that I find humour in all types of places.
The ability to tell a joke or a funny story is something that some people have – or conversely, don’t have. My mother-in-law cannot tell a joke. She. Simply. Cannot. We shake our heads despairingly at her. She’s one of these people who forgets what she’s saying halfway through, and has to stop and think about the joke while we all sit in horrified fascination at how badly she’s stuffing up the story. When I first met her, I didn’t understand this. Now, some of the most traumatic moments of my life occur after she speaks the words, “I heard this joke today…”
Sadly for me, my husband is exactly the same. He often tells the punchline first, completely missing the impact of the joke. I race to catch up, trying to work out what he’s trying to say. There’s an awkward pause while I run through the joke in my head (in the correct order), then I laugh. About twenty seconds too late. Yeah. Umm.
Me? I love telling jokes. I’m a bit of a performer and in my childhood I did some amateur theatre. My first role was playing a girl who talked to herself. Often. Then I played Dracula’s crazy mother who had to be locked in the dungeon. I rounded off my acting career by playing a teacher whose students gave her a nervous breakdown. I guess you could infer that I play the crazy quite well. Yeah. Umm.
I think that my humour comes from desperation. Sometimes, unless you laugh at yourself, you’ll go crazy from the depression. And that’s never a good look.
So, do I use humour in my books? Umm, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. I don’t think I can turn it off, and do you know what? That’s okay. I’ve heard people say they can’t take any more angst. Or any more sadness. Or any more depressive, maniacal horror. I’ve yet to hear someone say, “Oh, my gosh. I don’t think I could take any more laughing. I’ve read three comedic books in a row, and I’m just so sore from laughing, I’m going to burst.”
My second novel, The Blinding Light, was released on the 14th of July, and I am so proud of that puppy! It has been well received and my heart is glowing from the love it is causing. It even made the “Movers and Shakers” list on Amazon for its strong sales. And I am so happy about that, and I love that people love it. Because love and happiness is what we all need.
So if you would like a dose of happiness today, check out what I’m talking about. You won’t regret it.