In my quest to expand my creativity, I set my notebook and pen on my night table. I frequently started writing as soon as I woke up, spending 10 minutes creating children’s stories to share with my kids some day.
After a few weeks, I finally had the courage to read one to them. It was about a friend of theirs who had lost something. My two sons were the Super Sleuths and helped their friend find the lost object.
Their eyes seemed to listen as much as their ears: They loved it.
I might as well have climbed Mount Everest! Not only did they request it again, but they created their own series: “The Friend Story.” Like any true series, it has a standard plot line and the same characters. They alternate turns giving me a sentence to add to the story, and I write down as best I can whatever they tell me. We write their children’s stories evenings, after our reading time and before sleep time.
I eventually suggested we write a story for their grandfather. The plot line was the same: their grandfather lost something (his bed), looked everywhere, and eventually found it (under some books). I typed it up, spread out the sentences over about eight pages and printed them. Then I asked them to draw the pictures. They were in a bit of a silly mood, and you can tell! (I also added in my own story at the end as a way of saying, “I’m back!”)
After spending a fortune laminating the pages and having everything bound, we had a finished, published children’s story. I could not have been happier, and neither could their grandfather.