Writers are Easy

I’ve been in a mood all day – not a good one and no real reason for it, at least nothing that wasn’t around yesterday. By evening I was as wound up as…as a muppet (and Jack Black!), one trigger word away from flipping out…

… so I stepped out for a bit. Ended up at my sister’s where I hung with one of my little nephews for a while, the worst of the mood sloughing off between one thing he was excited to show me and the next.

Eventually, I had to be the responsible grown up and remind him that it was bed time. I asked if he wanted a story before I left and he said, “yes, the one you wrote for me”. That request brought a smile to my face. This had never happened before.

The story is a bedtime story in verse. I wrote it a few years ago after a conversation with him where I just let his imagination – and he has a very poetic imagination – take the lead. The story was in part inspired by his mom’s complaints about how hyper he can be at bedtime – like now. I wrote it for him, and, in a sense, about him, his imaginative leaps, and their bedtime ritual. And after having it printed on coloured hard paper with art work – well a writer’s version of art work, laminated it and gifted it to him. Needless to say like any 5 or so year old more interested in remote controlled cars and the Flash, he was unimpressed.

But this boy-hulk who has destroyed many toys since then somehow still had the laminated story posed up on a stand at his bedside. Go figure. I picked it up, oddly nervous. He settled in bed. And I read, hoping to get the rhythm right so it would come alive for him and at the same time lull him to sleep.

As I read, I felt happier than I’d felt all day, all week. It was a fulfilling moment as a writer and an aunt…a writing aunt…this exactly was the reason why the story had been written. This moment.

I was happy that he had come to appreciate the gift and him letting me read it to him felt like a gift to me.

Now that I’ve entered the children’s picture book market, this is one of the stories I hope will some day bring joy and sleepiness to other children. I mean, not this particular too-hyper child, he was still up though he was pretending not to be, but still, it made me happy. What can I say writers – and aunts – are easy.

5 thoughts on “Writers are Easy

  1. I enjoyed this anecdote, Joanne. As a mom of 2 boys, I’d have to say that bedtime stories is a treasured part of my day. And as a writing aunt, you will always have a minor celebrity status with him. My husband’s aunt is a children’s book writer, and even as we give away books that they have outgrown, we hold on to hers, so that one day the boys can read them to their kids. When we create something, and send it out into the world, we do not always get to see how far out the ripple effect goes, but every now and then we get a nice surprise, like the one you described.

    • Not sure about the minor celebrity status lol but it did feel special being able to read something I wrote to him especially as it was something inspired by him. Fingers crossed for it to land a good deal and travel far. Speaking it in to being. Thanks for reading, Donna.

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