Music in the trees
Prose on the water
A poem at the flower tip
I look around
Who knew I would ever produce a children’s book? Certainly not me. Just because my stories read of magic and whimsy, of fairy tale-like worlds and creatures, of simple hopes and dreams, doesn’t mean they were written for kids. In fact when I write, I just write. But when my friend described to me the images and scenes he saw when reading my story, well , it took on a life of its own — a life of a children’s picture book.
Now while it is being sent to publishers and agents, I’ve been turning to my other stories and giving them a ponder. What if instead of my characters being a woman or man, they be a squirrel or a raccoon, a duck or a swan?
I walk around my nearby lagoon each day where each of these animals live . And each time I can’t help but stop and watch them- in awe. They do have such personalities. The way they scamper or waddle. The way they protect their young. The way they sleep and play. They easily carry a story, we’ve all seen that: The Wind in the Willows, Winnie the Pooh, Watership Down. But could they carry my story.
Hmmm… Why not let them try?