I'm not so sure it was the best idea for my parents to let me watch as much Scooby-Doo as I did growing up. For one thing, I am a scaredy-cat. Not as obvious about it as Shag and Scoob, but I cannot handle being afraid. The second bathroom at my parents' house is in the basement — the dark, scary, unfinished part of the basement. All the way at the back. Specifically, in the furnace room. With one of those single lightbulbs attached to a single, thin string. Terrifying stuff, even for me now. As a kid? I would turn on every single light I passed, run to the bathroom, leave the door open, and do my business as fast as humanly possible.
Now, add watching slightly creepy shows to this, and you end up with one neurotic child...albeit, a child with a fantastic imagination. I guess I have Scooby to thank for my current career as a children's book writer. I was actually lucky enough to work on two Scooby books here at work. Maybe I'll post those someday.
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