Rowena Cherry

I'd rather say what excites me about writing!<br><br>When I read one of my own lines and it makes me laugh, even though I've read it a few score times. Although I shouldn't, I admit to laughing at my own jokes; sometimes I bring tears of mirth to my own eyes….but I can't do it to order.<br><br>Two examples. <br><br>I've never been sure about fictional bathrooms on spaceships that appear out of nowhere at the push of a button. Walls move. Space is created with no discernable impact on the size of the living area. Solid bathroom fixtures appear. How? Is the bathroom like Dr. Who's Tardis? I could accept a shower, but not a jacuzzi, I guess. But, then, I am not a plumber.<br><br>Why push a button? What about a Clap-On Crapper? What fun if the alien-romance's human heroine were to clap her hands in delight over some unrelated matter, and the toilet would shoot out of the walls, slosh and retreat, and reappear until she had the wit to stop clapping!<br><br>Another "well-worded" jest I made recently was about my brother. I was on a loop and we were discussing reasons why our parents named us as they did. I said, <br><br>My brother was born in a gale. My parents were going to call him Gail, until they saw his penis. They called him Miles instead.<br><br>Luckily my family does not spend a lot of time on the internet.