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“I write humor the way a surgeon operates, because it is a livelihood, because I have a great urge to do it, because many interesting challenges are set up, and because I have the hope it may do some good.”

-James Thurber

Steve Hely is the featured guest at this year's Birthday Gala.

Thurber’s writings have certainly withstood the times and continue to inspire laughter and the art of humor writing to this day. On Dec. 8, we’ll be celebrating his 117^th birthday by holding our annual Thurber Birthday Gala in his honor at The Westin Columbus from 6-9 p.m. This year’s celebration will feature the 2010 Thurber Prize for American Humor winner, Steve Hely, writer for shows like The Office and The David Letterman Show, and author of How I Became a Famous Novelist.

This is an evening you won’t want to miss out on! Click here to purchase your tickets by Dec. 5 (hurry, there are only a limited amount available!).

In addition to the dinner, we’re holding a raffle with the chance to win one of five prize packages. And there’s something for everyone! Prizes include a script and Season 6 DVD set of The Office signed by the cast (including Steve Carrell!), tickets to The Ohio State sporting events, an assortment of wine, overnight stay at the Westin Columbus, and more!

Purchase your raffle tickets here for the following prize packages:

For the TV Fan
A DVD of Season 6 of The Office and a script, both signed by the cast, including Steve Carrell, and a signed copy of Steve Hely’s Thurber Prize winning book, How I Became a Famous Novelist.

For the Sports Fan
Two tickets to one OSU Men’s basketball game, two Men’s ice hockey games, and two Women’s basketball games.

For the Romantic
An overnight stay at the elegant Westin Columbus plus dinner for two at the hotel’s High Street Grill and drink vouchers at the incomparable Thurber’s Bar.

For the Entertainment Fan
Two tickets to a ProMusica Chamber Orchestra performance (excluding their gala) plus a copy of each of their two new CDs. Two tickets to a performance by BalletMet. Two tickets to a performance by CATCO. Two tickets to a performance by the Jazz Arts Orchestra. Two tickets to any Thurber House Winter/Spring Evenings with Authors event.

For the Art & Wine Lover
A case of assorted wines and a signed and framed print of Thurber House.

Note, you do not need to be present to win.

We hope you’ll join us for this exciting evening of laughter, celebration and fun!

Today was one of those days—accidents fueled by an insane level of exhaustion (knives swashbuckling across fingernails that might have been fingertips; perhaps a broken toe). After awhile I decided to stay put on the stiff black couch and read Steve Hely's How I Became a Famous Novelist, about a wanna-be bestseller who eyes the novel competition, studies the stats, and bludgeons his way onto the charts with a novel he calls The Tornado Ashes Club (decode that, if you will). The wannabe wavers, for a brief spell, between writing an action-packed thriller or a literary hearttwist, and for the reasons he explains here, he goes with the latter:

It's easy at first, describing your hero's monumental chin and iron-core integrity and so forth. But slowly you discover it's like a complicated math problem, or assembling a bookshelf. You have to keep track of dozens of tiny parts, which good guys turn out to be bad guys, and which cars will get blown up by which helicopters....

With literary fiction, on the other hand, you can just cover everything up with a coat of wordy spackle. Those readers are searching for wisdom, so they're easier to trick.

All right, so that had me laughing (throbbing toe and ugly fingernails and all)—especially since, yes, yes (I hang my head, I apologize), it's true: I stand accused as a purveyor of literary fiction, some of which does indeed take inspiration from Mediterranean countries (a setting that comes under ruthless attack) and some of which includes invented words (not that many, I swear, or at least, not in every book). I'm also, at times, a book reviewer for the Chicago Tribune and elsewhere. Here's what Hely's protagonist has to say about that:

Book reviewers are the most despicable, loathsome order of swine that ever rooted about the earth. They are sniveling, revolting creatures.... They are human garbage.

Hmmm, I thought, as I sat on my couch with my blue, swollen toe and my peeling, unpretty fingers. Has reading become dangerous business, too.

And should I be writing thrillers?