So sometime a week or two ago I realized that I needed to write a children’s novel. I wanted to give my kids a book they can read when they were still young enough to really appreciate it. Something, that they would see the dedication and find their names and get a quick thrill.
I’ve always told my kids bedtime stories, and some nights I would read to them and others make them up off the top of my head. Some nights it would be me spinning on an old folk lore or fairy tale, and other times just my own whimsical mind running through so many interesting stories and ideas.
And I’ve gone back and forth on this idea. Of writing a children’s novel, I’ve been playing with such thoughts since I was a kid myself. And since my children were even younger, I keep returning to it over and over again.
But this time, I realized, I had to do it now and do it soon. My daughter just turned 13. Pretty soon she would be too old for these kinds of stories. And my son just turned 10…and he won’t be far behind. And once I started this story, writing it, etc. I couldn’t stop. It’s only been a week, and I’m a third of the way through.
Trust me when I say it’s really exciting. I’m pulling from all sorts of folklore and faery tales.