About c.l. charlesworth

Back Porch Storyteller. Inspired by music, art, books, and people who have something worth saying.

The Rabbit Hole

I believe solitude reflection has given me freedom to define my next steps as a writer. As I edge for a seat rejoining the poetic authors—I will pace myself and eat from the smorgasbord only what I absolutely need.Trying to reconstruct one’s life over a period of time sometimes proves difficult—not always because you can’t remember—but maybe the memory of past events makes you reflect—and you just shut down.

It’s been over a year since my last blog post. I’ve thought about it many times. Honestly, I didn’t have the energy, time, or thought process to write anything. Social Media, to me, is one big smorgasbord. Some feast hourly, daily, and weekly piling on plates full of opinions, ideas, and endless advice. The internet is packed like a rock concert—full of poetic authors requiring no reservations, just a commitment to come and join them. Continue reading

Why did I write a romantic fiction story . . .

Why do I write? This is a question all writers at one time or another are asked and have asked themselves. My answer is not complex or earth shaking. I’ve always come back to the same answer, played over and over in my head like one of those jingles you can’t shake. I write because it makes me happy—a simple answer for a complex journey.Why do I write romantic fiction?

As I’ve said before, I’ve been a closet writer for years, with a number of half-written stories stored away in boxes, always jotting down ideas on what happens next, or for new stories I’d like to write some day. Completing The Ears That Have Eyes was hard work, but I finally did it.  That makes me happy. So far the reviews have been good, too, and that makes me very happy! Continue reading

Welcome to C.L.’s Blog

Welcome to my personal journal

The Ears That Have Eyes by CL Charlesworth.

How do I start? I guess, first, to say welcome to my world full of nooks and crannies, full of treasures, adventures, and secrets.

As a writer, I use my imagination to paint vivid imagery that’s page-turning fiction. My natural gift of storytelling was opened years before I thought about being a writer. It started in my hometown, Youngstown, Ohio. My father, a steel mill worker, had certain television shows he loved. Aside from our many family road trips — TV was Dad’s escape from a dangerous job that eventually killed him at age 52 after he contracted black lung disease. When his work schedule interrupted, Dad asked me to watch his favorite programs and tell him what he missed. I was finishing elementary school, when I perfected the on-the-spot-jaw-dropping- storytelling. I amazed myself at how I could hold Dad’s attention as if those television characters were our neighbors. Continue reading