"Sunshine and a brand new book. Perfect." —Bridget Zinn
I've tried to write great works full of seriousness and sobriety, but the fact is, they always seem come across as anything but. I would like to think that people who read my work are laughing with me and not at me, but it's increasingly difficult to maintain this illusion when I'm quite certain I've handed over a VERY SERIOUS piece of writing.
In other words, I probably wouldn't be the best person to, say, write your epitaph. Unless you want people snorting and giggling in an unseemly way throughout the funeral in which case we might get along just fine and I'd be delighted to do the job.
Possibly my choice of subjects is the root of the problem (though curiously even when I write about murderers and malcontents people seem to laugh. For no good reason). Apparently, other people don't see the importance and gravity of such things as buying the perfect new pair of boots.
Fortunately, I adore funny books myself, so I've learned to live with my Lack of Seriousness Defect.