Cerrie Burnell: creativity, diversity and motherhood

The CBeebies presenter and author speaks to Danielle Woodward about what happiness mean to her

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Cerrie Burnell: creativity, diversity and motherhood

Interview: Danielle Woodward

We should all give more value to creativity; itโ€™s seen as something to do to unwind, but itโ€™s a whole other world thatโ€™s available to us, and itโ€™s vital to be exposed to it in childhood.

When a book youโ€™ve written is adapted for the stage, itโ€™s always different than you imagined. Snowflakes [at the Oxford Playhouse last year] was my third play and Iโ€™ve become better at stepping back and handing it over to the director. I also enjoy writing picture books, as they help hook a child into reading.

I love my work; writing is a chance to relive my childhood and create something new that encompasses everything I love about life now. Working with the CBeebies team is fantastic; we are like a family who are all supportive of each other.

Anything inappropriate makes me laugh! CBeebies is wholesome and educational, but I canโ€™t be that sincere all day. Weโ€™ll be rehearsing for the bedtime hour and Iโ€™ll mention โ€˜ginโ€™ as many times as I can on the read-through to lighten the mood!

I donโ€™t think disabled children have to accept their disability; they just need to get on with their lives. When I was growing up, I had to get a prosthetic arm fitted, which I hated. The doctor told me I had to wear it because, if I didnโ€™t, other kids might not like it. I remember laughing and saying, โ€˜Oh no, my friends donโ€™t mind at all, theyโ€™re always telling me to take it off!โ€™ That was his opinion; he didnโ€™t like it if I didnโ€™t wear my plastic arm. Dealing with attitudes like that at a young age made me resilient.

It pains me to ask for help. If youโ€™re a young child and you ask for help and someone sees your disability and says, โ€˜yes, of course, you poor thingโ€™, you get this awful misplaced sympathy. I refused help, and that made me feel invincible.

I didnโ€™t class myself as having a disability until I was in my mid-20s when I worked for a theatre company. I thought it was a positive label, not a vulnerability. I am disabled in that I have one hand, but there isnโ€™t anything I canโ€™t do. It means differently abled, not less abled.

I aim for grace in all situations. I hold on to the image of a ballerina or a swan in my mind; dancing or swimming through the turmoil, but looking calm and composed on the surface.

I canโ€™t stand it when children are treated unfairly, or their needs arenโ€™t understood. If a child is having a meltdown in public, thereโ€™s an instant assumption that the parent should be controlling them, but you donโ€™t know anything about that situation, so donโ€™t judge.

You can never underestimate what a wonderful thing diversity within a community is. The bigger the mix, the better; it helps us understand each other. Compassion is so important.

Iโ€™m wary of smugness, especially on Facebook. People can be obsessed with having to document everything, but being in the moment is whatโ€™s important.

There are so many different types of family. I had my daughter, Amelie, on my own, and there were times when it was difficult, but I have friends who are part of supportive couples who found it equally hard โ€“ motherhood can be challenging whatever your circumstances.

Iโ€™ve got multiple diversities: Iโ€™m disabled, have a mixed-race daughter and Iโ€™m dyslexic, but being a single parent is the thing Iโ€™m most proud of. Juggling is the hardest part; fitting it all in with the school run, my writing, my role on CBeebiesโ€ฆ having children is an extraordinary privilege and I feel incredibly lucky.

โ€˜Harper And The Night Forestโ€™ by Cerrie Burnell, illustrated by Laura Ellen Anderson (Scholastic, ยฃ5.99), is out now. 

Photograph: Pal Hansen for Psychologies

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