I am about to head out to an hour-long humor writing workshop. This will be the first writing class type thing I have taken in roughly 15 years (not counting graduate school, which is perhaps not very fair, since I learned a hell of a lot about writing there) and I’m a little nervous. Not because of the writing, but because I’ve never really thought I was funny. Not really.

I remember having a conversation with my college roommate our senior year, and I was making her laugh (we were talking about our failed relationships, as though we were already in our 30s), and all of I sudden I stopped and asked her, “When did I get funny?” I was not funny in high school. I always WANTED to be funny in high school. I wanted the comic character actor roles but was consistently cast as the leading lady. I’m not complaining, mind you — but I would’ve rather been thought hilarious and sharp than romantic and sweet.

I mean, today I think I can hold my own, some of the time. Mostly with nerds. (I’m funny, but I’m not normal-people funny.) I do occasionally crack myself up. (I’m funny, but I’m not other-people funny.) Mostly when I make people laugh it’s because of the way I laugh — somehow, and I have no idea how, but somehow I have developed a snort. And it amuses people. Hell, it amuses me. (I’m funny, but I’m not witty.)

You see what I’m dealing with here.

Anyway, I’m dealing with some residual high schooly “everyone will be cooler and funnier than I am” issues that I will always have no matter what, but I’m also excited and I mean hey — it’s free and it’s only an hour. I’m interested in what I’m going to find out about humor writing in an hour. Hopefully more than “the kids nowadays tend to favor the all-caps as a means of emphasizing the humorous” and “OMG CATS AMIRITE.” Because I think those two things I have down, pretty much.