For the first 26 years of my life, I was seriously intent on becoming a lawyer. In a weird series of events though, life took a sharp left turn. Humor writing is my passion now, but what a weird road it was to get here.
It started with running into a former teacher. He introduced me to his wife and said, “I always thought Christy would have made an excellent stand-up comedian.” Very literally, I assumed that he had been drinking his infamous coffee … if you know who I’m talking about.
Shortly after that, I saw another person from my past who also mentioned how funny that he always thought I was. “I’m funny?” I thought to myself. “How am I just now learning this?” Sure, I crack myself up on an hourly basis, but other people find me funny too?
Around that same time, my oldest daughter started talking. If you have never talked to that girl, you need to because I cannot possibly explain how her random, outside the box, hilarious mind works in a short column. Regardless, someone who knew her suggested that I start writing about her. I ended up writing a successful humor blog titled “Worst Mother of the Year” for years (until CPS ruined it), which paved the way for a lot of other small humor writing jobs.
In May 2013, I got my own humor column in this very paper thanks to the lovely editor at the time, Mark Couhig. A few months into my column, I asked another editor for advice on how to go big with humor writing. He suggested writing a book.
I started working on one immediately. Then, I started another book. Then another. I never finished any of them, partially because I work a lot already, but mostly because I was/am very scared. Being broke and out of work for six weeks does amazing things for people though and so I finally finished a book … and published it … in an attempt to pay some bills.
My first book, “The Funny Thing About Epilepsy” is for sale on Amazon now. I decided to make some money off my disorder, while also lightheartedly educating those not familiar with epilepsy. I’ve done the math and if I sell 3,434,655 books, I should recoup the amount I’ve spent on seizure medicine.
So, here’s an excerpt to entice you into buying a copy (remember, I need to sell 3,434,655):
“We quickly ripped off my pants, which would be a really good line for a different kind of book. With no pants on, the mystery was solved. The burn was discovered.
“Where the heck did that come from?” The doctor asked while he began treatment.
Still a wee bit foggy from the seizure, I could not immediately give him an answer, but soon I came to the conclusion that it was probably from the hot cooking pan. My theory was quickly confirmed by someone who was with me during the seizure.
The burn ended up being classified as a second degree burn. It resulted in my first (but not last) scar. As they say, chicks dig scars. That doesn’t really benefit me unfortunately, but I do have a really cool story to go along with it. So that’s good.
But please, let this be a lesson to everyone out there. Those with epilepsy should never, ever cook anything beyond toast and toast is really pushing it. Cooking is far too dangerous for those with epilepsy.
That’s what I try to tell my husband anyway …”