CheekySkirt Blog… Creative Writing Samples

Before there was CheekySkirt Media, there was the CheekySkirt Media Blog: these creative writing samples are fun, fresh and witty stories from the everyday of my life. Mostly, they’re just my way of having a good laugh, making fun of my husband—in writing—and getting away with it. Along with a few non-husband tales, below are some of my favorite creative writing samples (please ignore the lack of grammar and the casual colorful word).

I don’t blog so much for fun anymore – OK, not at all. The story goes… My CheekySkirt Media Blog received some really great attention and readers started reaching out asking me to write for them. Say, what? So, I have to give the people what they want and I just don’t have time to make fun of my husband, anymore.

For professional samples, please contact me here or through my LinkedIn profile.

 

  • Growing up in a tiny Northern New York town, kids get creative. Scratch that. Innovative. My friends and I – we took the cake. Or so we thought. It was late October, senior year, and we were feeling innovative. The air was unseasonably warm that night: perfect to venture out
  • I so badly wanna take that midnight train goin’ anywhere. I think I’d go alone. Yes, alone. For the ride, I’d bring a Walkman. Not an iPod – a Walkman. When I want to hear that certain song, I must work for it and be patient through the fast forward.
  • I’d been here several times… 57, if you count the walk-bys with friends who had no idea why I’d diverted them from the usual route. New York City, 1970. October, early. There are still warm days. A gentle breeze disrupts my ponytail and instinctively I tuck the loose strands behind
  • Every inhale sends my heart into pitter-patter mode. Every breath, involuntarily, my eyes close as the scent of Adirondack rain courses through me and I can’t help but smile. My lids linger, closed but soft, until I get to breathe it in, again. This… is home. Rain is different in
  • I shaved my legs yesterday… above the knees. You know what that means. Yep, clean sheets. I was counting down the seconds until my husband made the bed. Life. After 40. Immediately… immediately following the fresh shave of the first leg, I couldn’t remember which leg I had done. Basically,
  • November 1st 2007, I said goodbye to my grandmother. Actually, I said goodbye to her the night before at the nursing home—knowing she may not make it through the night. I woke up to the phone ringing early the next morning. My mom and I had made the trip to
  • This morning, I fed cucumbers to my dogs. They—the cukes—were getting soft and I wasn’t going to use them but I hate to throw away veggies. So, my canine garbage disposals volunteered to take one (two?) for the team. Well, the girls are messy. I have a somewhat high level
  • I made it 42 years without ever stepping into a police station. And let me tell you, there are many who just read that and are searching through their mental rolodexes to disprove me. Now, there was an ill-fated night at 16 when I spent the better half of an
  • I have saggy knee caps. It’s true. I saw them this morning. They almost fold over the knees, like an elephant’s trunk. I’d like them to stop sagging. I think if they moved up a couple inches—back to where they belong—it may ease up on the bathroom scale a little,
  • Coffee. Hot. Black. Naked. Overflowing. I’ve been known to include a word or two, maybe a dissertation or three about coffee in my writings. So, my apologies, but today of all days I would be remiss if I didn’t at least do a small, teeny little ode to my favorite
  • I bet you didn’t know I used to be a model; had a pretty regular gig, too. My showbiz mom would get the call, drop everything, brutally yank me from playtime with my friends and rush me down for my fitting. I didn’t mess around either; most days, they had
  • Kiki. That’s what they’d call me. Who? My massive tribe of foster kids. Big kids. Teenagers. Attitudes up the wazoo. Pains in the tushes. Obnoxiously selfish. Teenagers. Mine, all mine. Utopia 2.0. At 44, I’ve figured it out. Shit, it took me a long time but I know. I know
  • I miss my friends. I miss my life. I miss the simplicity of that life, back then, when I didn’t know that I would miss my friends. I miss naivety. I miss curfews. I miss innocence. I miss that night when he and I were watching Heathers and he kissed
  • Mom, do you still love me? Yes, but not as much as I did, yesterday. I’d accepted that… I needed to earn back the love I’d so brutally destroyed moments earlier. She was easy – I’d have it back, with interest, by noon. So, what was my wicked act that
  • I remember the first time I met her. I had just started dating my now husband and had driven down to Charleston to see him. I wasn’t halfway through the front door when she asked me to play Freddi Fish on her computer. She was seven; his daughter. She grabbed
  • I love to write. Writing, for me, is better than that first Christmas morning as a child, when you finally understand who Santa Claus is and you wake up wide-eyed at 5 a.m., run to the tree in all its gift-glory and rip through 20 presents so fast you get