I’m a nostalgic person. I enjoy looking back to days gone by and sometimes even pretend I’m my own therapist. Yeah, I know that sounds strange, but I’m an odd human being, so it works for me. I study the life-changing events I endured, the stupid things I did and wish I didn’t, the tender moments that touched my heart, and the people I counted on for a soft place to fall.
Memories light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories of the way we were
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were
These memories oftentimes inspire my writing. Though the stories and characters I create are fictional, I draw on past experiences, emotions and relationships. I write-what-I-know and this (hopefully) allows me to construct evocative, believable stories.
Every summer, when I was little, my sister and I lived to play with Barbie dolls. (Mom called it our obsession.) We actually set our alarm clocks before going to bed, to make certain Barbie, Ken, Francie (my favorite, because she had real eyelashes!) and Midge made it to work on time. Skipper usually slept in until the twins, Todd and Tutti, woke up.
Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time rewritten every line
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me—would we? Could we?
Not only did I obsess over dolls, but I wrote extensive scripts for them too. What they’d say, where they’d go and what they’d do once they got there. Filling note pads with dialogue, scenes and plot twists consumed so much of the day there was little time left to actually play. Planning their day on paper was more than half the fun! Who knew Barbie and her friends were capable of birthing the author within me?
Creating stories as an adult is much the same as when I was a child—I just use imaginary characters to perform in them instead of plastic ones with removable heads.
Thank you, fabulous Bad Girlz! I’m thrilled to be your Bad Girl of the day! And because I’m oh-so-bad, and giving you only one song to continuously bang around in your heads isn’t enough, I’ll close out with another…
Because I’m Bad, I’m Bad—Come On
You Know I’m Bad, I’m Bad—You Know It
You Know I’m Bad, I’m Bad—Come On, You Know
And The Whole World Has To Answer Right Now
Just To Tell You Once Again
WHO’S BAD . . .
(Cheryl) C.E. Hart