A few weeks ago my dad commented that my writing style was ‘rather gloomy’.  Granted he was reading the grittiest novel I’ve written so far, but it made me stop and think.  Since then, I have been making every effort to inject some humour into my writing, but to be honest, it does not come naturally.  It’s like a best man trying to make people laugh with his speech when he is just not that funny any other time.  Thinking about it, my dad can be hysterically funny, but he is always quick to paint the most pessimistic view on things too.  I’m afraid that side of him, and of my mum as well, has come out on top with me.

A silly thing happened to me last weekend.  I was trying to paint black over the cement beneath our fire-place.  I tried, but the brush was far too stiff.  I came back into the kitchen saying, ‘I can’t do it.  This brush is ruined.  It wouldn’t work at all.’  As I washed the paint off, I realised that I had been trying to paint with the wooden end, and was holding the brush end in my hand.  I looked at it, looked at my husband and burst out laughing.  Typical me, expecting the worst, and not seeing the better side of things, counting the dark clouds and ignoring the blue skies pushing in.  Maybe that’s why my other book was ‘Glimpses of Sky’ and not ‘Blinding sun’.

Sorry everybody, this girl will always have a bit of dark in her, but I’m definitely getting better at finding silver linings too.  And let’s admit it, Winnie the Pooh would be fairly flat without good old Eeyore –

“It’s snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.

“So it is.”

“And freezing.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven’t had an earthquake lately.”