Why Women Hate Me for Being Talented

*originally posted on Nights of Passion*

Inspired  by the brave woman who wrote this article a few weeks ago (Why Women Hate Me for Being Beautiful), I’ve decided to come out of the closet and speak out about my own suffering. So here it is. Why it’s so hard to be talented.

When I was six years old and first used my talent, my grandmother told me, “you’re so talented.” Ever since then, people have gone out of their way to do things for me.  Waiters are always bringing me complimentary water at restaurants. People return things to me I have dropped or say “excuse me” when bumping into me. You might be thinking that’s a wonderful surprise. But it’s not. Not for me. It’s not a surprise, I mean. It’s wonderful, sort of, but the wonder isn’t because of the surprise because it’s not a surprise at all. Let me clear that up. Yes, wonderful. No, surprise.

Anyway, I don’t even bother to ask why they do these enormous favors for a stranger – a woman they don’t know, which is what a stranger is. I already know why. It’s because of my talent.

You may be judging me as you’re reading this, making your own determination about my talent. But I’m not arrogant or superior – I’m just better than you.

But as great as I am, I’ve also lost many friends because of it. They’re jealous because, while their talent has gotten old and flabby, mine has stayed young and taut.

Doors have been slammed in my face. Literally. Usually by mothers of small children. They whisper “delusional” behind my back. The mothers, not the children. The children say silly, nonsensical things like “get a life loser” and “I hope you drown in a pool of your own vomit.” Poor kids. They’ll never be as talented as me.

I asked a lady on the bus if I committed some crime that made people hate me. She said “they hate you because you’re a stuck-up bitch.” I smiled and nodded cause she’s just a lady on the bus and doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Then when she turned around, I spit in her coffee.

I don’t work or else I’d have more examples of how hard it is to be talented.

Men never ask me on dates because they think “how can I ever keep up with her talent?” They even go out of their way to ignore me so their wives and girlfriends don’t get jealous.

I was following my best friend around the mall one day and she started giving me dirty looks. Later, I realized her talent had been one of those that got droopy parts and those little creases around the eyes everybody calls laugh lines because they don’t want to come right out and say wrinkles. Before that, she would barely tolerate me, now she was downright rude. Do you see what I mean? Do I have to water down my talent to be like everyone else? Is that what it will take to have friends?

One time I was at a wedding and someone noticed my talent and, in a fit of jealousy, said, “who are you? You weren’t invited to this wedding.” I burst into tears and ran into the bridal suite where some men in blue uniforms came to console me. They were even kind enough to escort me off the property. Another example of strangers treating me better because of my talent.

I’m probably one of the only people who’s looking forward to the decline of my sanity. Then maybe people will stop judging me on my talent and look at who I am instead. Which is, and will always be, better than you.

Slapstick and Sarcasm - what's your favorite kind of humor?

I wouldn’t call myself a comedy writer, but humor plays a big role
in my books. In my life, actually. As a parent of a child with special needs, I often tell people if I wasn’t able to laugh at myself, and sometimes our situation, I’d have slit my wrists a long time ago. Ha ha, just kidding. A little dark humor for ya’. But for me, laughter is that important. It’s even got a healing quality to it. Having a good laugh releases endorphins that give us a bit of a high. Like a natural upper. Many times when I’m feeling down, I’ll say to my husband, “I need a good laugh, do something funny.” To which he blankly stares. Then I roll my eyes and call my best friend.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, I think for the upcoming generation of readers, humor is essential – even if you write deep, dark, and serious material. We live in an ADD society. The audience for long, flowery narration like Jane Eyre is, for the most part, dwindling. And new readers are picky. If they hit a dull spot, they put down the book. And if they put it down, it’s very hard to get them to pick it back up. This generation moves fast and they want their books to also.

Again, where does writing humor fit into this? Well, one of the things I try to do is, when I have to inundate a reader with a long description or a backstory, I make it funny. That way it entertains the reader as well as giving necessary information without hitting a lull.

Now I’m no expert, and admittedly I didn’t do much (or any) research before writing this post, but in my mind there are several types of humor. Some you’ll be great at, some not. In my opinion, it’s better to use what you got than try to be good at everything. Maybe you already know what suits you best or what comes most naturally to you – if so, awesome and run with it. If not, I’ve listed the types (which I just made up) below along with an example of each. Take a look at what you find most funny then experiment with how to add more of it in your writing.

And I apologize that all the examples of humor are from my books. Number one, it’s my own material so I don’t have to worry about copyright infringement. And number two, I’m lazy.

Dry humor:

Marcelo knew from experience, human women did not like being ordered around by men. His queen had taught him that when she’d tried to kill him only a few months ago. And all because he’d forced her to drink blood and steal the throne from her twisted father. Women were so temperamental.

Sarcasm:

“Your ego is legendary. It’s like its own entity. No, really. We should name it.”

Dark humor:

“We’re not so different, you and I. You believe your loose morals dictate the right people to kill. I don’t.” With the knife, he cut straight through her shirt. “That’s the only difference between the hunter and the hunted.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is this how you’re going to torture me? Spewing philosophical bullshit? I prefer the knife.”

Silly humor:

“So? You made a good choice for once in your life,” James said. “Good on ya’. What do you want? A cookie?”

Maddox grunted. “She wants an apology, dumbass.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Now I want two apologies.” Folding her arms across her chest she added, “And a cookie.”

Visual humor:

When he crouched down into a fighter’s stance, he looked like a sexy tiger ready to pounce. When Sage did it, she looked like she was sitting sideways on an invisible toilet.

Banter:

“You’re a bossy little thing.”
“Me bossy? Ha! That’s funny coming from you.”
“Down here there’s a name for a creature that taunts a bigger one.”
“What’s that?”
“Dead.”

Pop Culture humor:

“Thanks for that, boy genius. Where’d you graduate from? Hogwarts School for the Mentally Unbalanced?”

Irony:

It had only been six days since she’d frozen in fear when the werewolves had attacked her and Marcelo. What a long way she’d come since then. Now…now she would have faced them with courage instead of cowering behind a man. Her head would be held high, bow in hand, strength down to her feet rooted on the ground. Yes, she was fae. She would never run and hide again.

Just then a giant snarling ball of muscle, fur, and teeth lunged at her from the trees. Oh, the irony.

Physical humor:

The next stall over is decent but cramped. It’ll have to do. I lift my dress and begin the process of liberating my curves from the torture device called Spanx. I grab the waistband and yank. And yank and yank. Down, down my body. At my hips, I reach some resistance. I wriggle them back and forth but the stall is so narrow I knock into the walls. I widen my stance, hovering above the toilet. Balancing on my too small heels proves challenging. I grunt and curse under my breath. Sweat drips down my nose. But I am going to get these damn things off if it’s the last thing I do.

Taking a more aggressive approach, I shove my hands under the waistband around my hips and pull down as hard as I can. Then I hear a loud rip and freeze. I look down. The lacy red underwear Nick got me is torn through at the side.

“Shit!” I hiss. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The sound of a throat clearing comes from the stall next to me. Double shit! Someone walked in between my grunts and thumping about? It probably sounds like I’m giving birth in here.

Witty humor:

Uhh…I don’t really specialize in this. I mainly use low brow and crass.

So. What’s your favorite type of humor to read and to write? Do you have examples you’d like to share? Leave a comment below and we can all laugh at you…er, with you