Create a Family Fairytale

It's now a second draft of a juvenile novel, but when I first dreamt up The Mystery of the Winds, it began as a simple bedtime story for my three boys while they still shared the same room.

They lay listening, two in bunk beds (the eldest on top, of course, lord of all he surveyed) and my youngest afloat in midroom, on his own bed. And they loved this particular story more than anything I'd ever told them before. Why? Because they were in it. They were the stars.

Prince Elan of Oasis City
Or, at least, their alter egos were. Prince Elan, the hawk-eyed big brother, decisive and impulsive. Prince Grey, the calm middle brother, inventive and insightful. And Prince Tal, the baby, trying his best to keep up, but replete with his own unique gifts. They were the three sons of King Talak of Oasis City, and they could do just about anything.

My kids devoured each episode, recalling exactly where I'd left them in dire straits the night before.
"What did I do then, daddy?" asked Chris, my youngest.
"You mean Prince Tal?"
"Yes."
"Well, Prince Tal swung his rope up through the window. Suddenly though, something grabbed the rope and hauled him up and out of sight in an instant."
"It was a monster, wasn't it?" spouted Chris.
"No, it wasn't," I answered. It was near the end of the night's episode. I was getting tired. Besides, I hadn't figured out what it was either and didn't think my forebrain would last much longer.
"Then what was it?" Jon, my eldest asked.
"Let Dad tell it, Jon," Gavin, my middle son cut in, knowing full well what his alter ego would do in that situation but being too polite a child to blurt out suggestions.

I decided I didn't really know what it was either — that thing beyond the window. And I wouldn't worry about it until tomorrow night, once the three had refreshed my memory with details of tonight's cliffhanger.

The family fairytale
So that is how I told stories to my children, at least the ones I made up. From experience I know that at certain ages, children adore this experience. It goes far beyond "ownership", too. It thrills their souls. On the parent's part, it is an act of love (Lewis Carroll called Alice in Wonderland a "love gift") which your children will always remember.

Now you don't need to tell any sagas to do this. Even substituting your child's name and a few personal details for Goldilocks, or even Jack — if at some level you don't mind being the Giant — is fine. And don't be shy about taking bits and pieces of stories you know and knitting them together on the fly. This is called the Folk Process and is responsible for the hundreds of interrelated folk and fairytales dreamt up by parents over the centuries.

The famous ones were simply written down at some point. But that's not to say that a story you create some night, when your child is profoundly listening, can't be as good — or better — than anything out there. Especially if it stars your child.

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