Writing fantasies.

“You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.”
― Madeleine L'Engle


Writing for kids has been simple, thus far: I'm targeting my own grandkids. So, I cannot say that I'm intentionally taking something complex and reducing it to its least common denominators, yet, I must admit that Madeleine L'Engle makes a profound point: there are often profundities that lurk just under the surface of "kiddie lit." If you question L'Engle's point, then I do wonder if you've not read her books or the Narnia Chronicles lately?

My intent is not to imitate L'Engle, MacDonald, Lewis, or Tolkien (as if???), but to take away from them their delightful sense of wonder and playfulness. I particularly enjoy the avuncular asides that Lewis drops in, such as, "...for everyone knows it is very foolish to shut oneself inside a wardrobe."

My hope and prayer is that my stories for children might have something in them for readers of all ages. Here's a portion of one of my Nativity series:

The Dogs of Christmas
   Arf and Yarf had wandered their way across the country. They didn't exactly know where they'd started from, because, of course, they didn't have a map and there were no street signs. But, they did know where they were now—they could read, which is, of course, a well-kept secret among dogs (see, they kept it secret from you, too!) The sign read, The Bethlehem Inn and Stables.
   “Fancy name,” Arf growled.
   “For a not very fancy place,” Yarf added, pawing at the dirt on the front doorstep.

   The dogs were slender—they had been surviving for weeks now on what they could hunt up, or the occasional handouts from shepherds whom they'd met along their wandering ways. Of course, the shepherds hardly had any more wealth than the dogs! Some shepherds were kindhearted, and would scratch and pat the dogs, and share morsels of bread and cheese. Other shepherds started hurling insults and sticks and rocks as soon as the dogs came into sight.
   “Good to be back in a town again, Yarf.”
   “True. Townies are usually kinder than shepherds,” Yarf added.
   “And they're usually no good with a sling—my tail is still sore from—“
   At that moment, the innkeeper appeared from around the corner, where he'd been checking up on the animals in the stable. Seeing, him, the dogs wagged their tails and put on friendly faces. The innkeeper waved his arms and yelled at the dogs, who tucked their tails and ran.
   “So much for the 'friendly townie' theory, Arf.”
   Arf looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Still, he's not slinging rocks!”
   The dogs darted around the next building, slowing immediately. In their experience, only man-cubs would keep up a chase. They sat and panted for just a moment, more for relaxation than because they were really out of breath—sometimes it just feels good to simply pant.
   “Let's check the back of a few houses before we check out behind the inn.”
   “Fine, Yarf, but, you know that the inn is usually the only place in town with a decent slop-pile.”
   “Right-o, lad, but we don't need him seeing us lurking,” Yarf concluded.
   The town was small; they checked behind every house and shop. They raided a few moldy bread crusts and found a good puddle in the otherwise dry wash on the north side of town.

   About an hour later, they noticed some distant sounds.
   “Music?” Arf yelped. “Let's check it out.”
   They raced over the fields in time have a distant view of...
   “What are those, Yarf?”
   “Dunno, Arf, never seen anything like it. Let alone, heard anything like it!
   Arf nodded in agreement as they trotted closer.
   Yarf put back his head and howled, and Arf joined him in a nice harmony. They howled and yowled and had a great time singing along with the angels....

Complete story here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1negtwdDvhM80jtWJi4Q7vvyZV2UHicxZUoHqPwi-ClU/edit

Do let me know what you think. Thnx for reading.