Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

Why I'm writing while watching—and rewatching—Dirty Dancing

Hello friends!

For the last couple of months, I’ve been writing while watching—and rewatching, then rewatching again—Dirty Dancing. And I’ve delighted in every moment.

The film’s opening sequence, with its slow-motion dancers in close-up, I’ve seen at least twenty times since January. I can recognise all the facial expressions, all the movements. I’ve memorised every beat, word and breath of the first songs. I’ve seen the Housemans’ family car on the highway to Kellerman’s resort and can pinpoint the exact moment when the main character’s voiceover begins: That was the summer of 1963. When everybody called me ‘Baby’ and it didn't occur to me to mind.

Here’s Baby reading on the way to Kellerman’s resort in Dirty Dancing

Dirty Dancing—a romantic, summertime rites-of-passage story about a young Jewish woman, Baby, who falls in love with Johnny, a dance instructor—is my source material and inspiration for a new writing project. My final piece might be short stories, a long, personal essay, a novel or autofiction, but at the moment I’m simply putting words on the page.