inspiration and imagination

I love escaping into books—from Hogwarts to Christian Grey’s red room—but I also love it when books escape into my real life.

I can’t be the only one who reads a story about a woman with glossy hair—and now I want glossy hair. And I go buy a hairbrush that’s supposed to make your hair shinier, as well as glossy serum and pretend I’m living the life of the heroine.

A book mentions the masculine scent of a body wash, and I buy it. Maybe even not pretending it’s for my husband and acknowledging it’s for me.

A character listens to a song, and I look it up on Apple music. (Example, Gold by Chet Faker, from Top Secret by Elle Kennedy and Sarina Bowen). A character watches Call Me By Your Name—Farrow Keene in Headstrong Like Us, if you must know—and I buy it.

And love it.

I know I live in my head a lot of the time—and I try to record my thoughts for others to enjoy in stories. But I’m now coming to acknowledge that it’s so much fun when the lines of imagination and reality get blurred.

Playing for grownups. Fairy tales for adults.

Life is too short not to have fun.