Indulging in Nostalgia to Escape
My new book is set in 1988. I was nine for most of that year. Although the protagonist in this story is 14, I’m drawing on personal memories to recreate that time period. But I’m almost 42 now. And I was 39 when I started work on this manuscript. So my childhood wasn’t exactly yesterday. How could I inhabit the past, the world as it was in 1988?
Fortunately, indulging in nostalgia achieves this goal quite nicely. And it’s something I’ve been practicing for decades. It started when I hung onto childhood toys there was no reason for me to keep, hauling them around from apartment to apartment. I’ve been thrifting vintage clothing since my teen years, hanging them carefully to extend their lives instead of tumbling them in the dryer.
I still have a moderate-sized collection of VHS tapes (which I now use to bore my children) and I like watching old television shows that stream on Roku. I’ve also resurrected my collection of vintage stickers. And I handed over my vintage toys to my children, allowing them to re-enter society instead of laying frozen in shoeboxes.
From to time, I put on an old sweatshirt, thinking about how long I’ve had it. I watch those VHS cartoons. I flip through that old album of metallic stickers. I hold one of those old toys now loved by a new generation.
Eventually I noticed that something special — almost therapeutic — was happening when I let the past trickle into my brain. Those little pieces of my life almost always release a rush of endorphins when I hold or even look at them. It’s as close as I’ll ever get to time travel. You can see where I’m going with this.
When times get tough, the need to retreat back to when life was good is shockingly powerful. Whether it was long days at mundane jobs, endless nights with tiny babies, or now, staring down the barrel of a global pandemic, sometimes leaving the present looks like a fantastic choice. And I’m not suggesting anyone should give into this on a wholesale scale. The past had amazing moments. For the occasional moment, you can set your current life on the shelf and soak in memories like an herbal bath.
You’ll need to come back eventually. Everyone does. But while you’re there, it’s downright magical.
It felt surreal to travel back to 1988 every time I worked on this book. Although the chance to visit an alternate version of the world I grew up in was reason enough for me to finish the story, I also hope anyone who reads it will experience (and enjoy!) the past to some degree too.
If you’re following along with my new book journey, stay tuned for a cover reveal and more on the surreal side of the world-building needed for this story.
