Introducing Chester & Hugh

Introducing Chester & Hugh

These are the cute little bears that started this whole new endeavor to write. 

I'd gotten the inkling to try writing again a few months back and decided I would buy myself a writing journal. I would find pictures or quotes, anything really to help trigger the author's light bulb and provide inspiration for stories and just see what happened and if I really could enjoy it as an ongoing thing.

For Ewan's 2nd birthday his Great-Grandmother (GranNan) gave him a card with a picture on the front of two bears fishing from a boat made out of Newspaper. I looked at it and thought there must be a fun story behind these bears, and so I set out to tell that story that I imagined was speaking to me off the front of that card. 

Chester & Norm and the Newspaper Boat was born. 

I sent it to my bestie and soon as I sent it I knew that Norm was not the right name. Bestie and I tossed around a few other names but Hugh was the one that really stuck with me. 

I created some illustrations to go with my story (a little different in concept to the two handsome gentlemen above - I've done some tweaking with their appearance) and even wrote a sequel that I was more than happy with. Continuing the adventures of Chester & Hugh was a great joy and I found myself not just enjoying writing but being almost feverishly excited!

The style of writing I used for C&H then birthed Florence & Rose which I have already posted on this blog previously. 

It's a strange thing to create. I have become quite attached to these characters. I enjoy thinking about them; who they are/were and where they might be headed in the future. 

Chester is playful. He always finds the fun and is quick to lead the way into something adventurous. He's the sort of bear that would thrill at the idea of jumping in puddles just after the rain. He's the bear that blows bubbles in his milk, and plays hockey with his fork and the last pea on his dinner plate. He loves activity and loves making other people laugh and enjoy themselves. If I was to liken Chester to someone I know he would be a combination of my husband and my son :)

Hugh is a little more refined. He's older than Chester and he's very intelligent. He enjoys working the muscles of his mind. But his deep thinking mind is also lively enough that he is happy to tag along in tow of Chester's playfulness. Hugh doesn't mind trying his hand at a little play acting, in fact, he enjoys the mental challenge of taking on another persona. He's well educated and has great memory recall, and although he is happy to join Chester on his adventures, Hugh will spend the time furthering his mind by absorbing the experiences and enjoying the scenery. To liken Hugh to someone that I know would have to be my Dad :)

Now when I wrote these characters I had not intended on drawing from qualities of three of the most important men in my life, but perhaps that's another reason why I love these bears. Because they remind me of the men I love. 

Chester & Hugh's story was sent off to a publisher in South Australia. They say on the website that it could take upwards of three months for them to respond to successful manuscripts and that if you don't hear from them then you can assume that you have not been unsuccessful. 

And so it is a waiting game. Waiting for months just to see if you do not get any answer so that you can then try another publisher and probably wait again.

But when I wrote this story I said to myself "Even if this never gets professionally published, I will do up a book myself just so that I can have a story to read to my children with my name on it, and dedicated to them, so they can know that I was thinking of them when I wrote this story."

And that's what I'll do now. 

While I wait, I will draw, and I will try and put together my own illustrated version of Chester & Hugh and the Newspaper Boat and see what happens down the track!

Fingers crossed!!

Ninja... I got something!

My last blog post was a cry for help about the writing topic 'Ninja'.
Firstly, thank you to those that responded.
Secondly, my creative juices did get flowing again and I have now submitted a piece to the KBR website team and fingers crossed it too will be selected for publication on their website in May.

What got the juices flowing was actually writing out a Ninja story based on a concept that my lovely sister-in-law presented to me. When I completed that story I ended up writing a new story which is the one I have sent off.
So in recognition of my sister-in-laws creative idea I have chosen to share the first story with you and as promised I am dedicating it to her daughter E (my niece) and her cats, Rosie and Cleo :) This is the Ninja Kitten.

The Ninja Kitten by Elizabeth Paterson
(This work is Copyright to Elizabeth Paterson 11th April, 2015)

Mumma looked at her three very different kittens one fine morning and said, “It’s time you thought about what you want to be when you grow up.” She said very seriously, “Take some time to think about it; it’s a big decision to make.”
The eldest kitten scrunched up his face so as to think very hard and said, “Mumma, I believe that a kitten of my smarts would be best suited to a life of some sort of scholar or a professor.” So the eldest kitten walked off to lay down next to a book and begin his studies.
The middle kitten said, “I’m sure I should be a musician of sorts; I can’t help but tap my paws when I hear a good beat.” So the middle kitten walked off and began batting his paws against pots and pans to hear the sound they make.
The youngest kitten was black of fur, but his Mumma could not find him when she turned to him next. Suddenly he leapt out from behind her and said in a whisper, “I know what I will be, Mumma.”
But before she could ask him to continue he had somehow vanished again. She started when the youngest kitten stealthily dropped down right in front of her nose without a sound and landed into a crouch beneath her.
Mumma watched him carefully to see if he was going to disappear again, but he stayed in his low crouched spot in front of her. “Now, what is it that you think you will be?”
The little black kitten slowly stood and whispered, “I’m going to be a Ninja Kitten!” Then he once more disappeared in a blur of black fur.
When they came together for dinner she watched her children closely to see how they were getting on with the choices they had made. The eldest kitten yawned and kept rubbing his eyes. The middle kitten kept licking his paws; they were very sore from all the banging on pots and pans. Then the little black kitten moved with such lightning quick speed that before she could even notice a fly that had begun to circle them, the youngest kitten snatched it from the air with one paw and didn’t even blink.
Not long after they’d eaten, their human came to see them. He’d been watching them all day too.
“I’ve decided to give you names, little kittens.”
He pointed at the eldest and said, “You will be called Lazy, for you are always lying about in my books doing nothing.”
He pointed at the middle kitten and said, “You will be called Noisy, for you make such a racket all day.”
Then he pointed to the youngest kitten and said, “Oh, where did the littlest one go? When you see him Lazy and Noisy, tell him that I’ve decided to call him Ninja, because he’s so stealthy and quiet that I never know where he is!”

Ninja...I've got nothing!

I was so excited when I received the email. My breath was caught for a moment, and my face immediately cracked into a grin of joyful disbelief. I couldn't help  but smile. And then, I couldn't help but dance. I jumped up and was bouncing on my feet whilst I impatiently waited for the phone to dial my hubby. I just had to tell someone!
But he didn't answer. So I rang my best friend, because I really needed to tell someone!
But she didn't answer either. I was giddy with excitement and bounced on my feet some more and then dialed my mother-in-law.
"Mum it's me! I just have to tell someone. I'm so excited! My story has been selected to be published online sometime in April!"
When I hung up from sharing my great news with my mother-in-law, I burst into the song "I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it". I danced the most goofy moves I could think off, and Ewan joined in and cried out "Again!" when I had stopped singing and dancing. I didn't need any more encouragement than that, for I was still bubbling with excited energy and was more than happy to see him giggling at my bum shaking and arm swinging.
It was only my second submission, so I was surprised and overjoyed to have been given this tiny bit of recognition. My enjoyment in writing re-fueled.

Less than a week later when I checked the website, there it was: Grandpa's Attic by Elizabeth Paterson. It was the first one for that month to be published.

I thought. I have to try again, with next months theme. Ninja.

Ninja.

Nin-ja.

...I've got nothing.

I'm itching to write again, but I do not know what to write for a children's story about Ninjas.

So now I am on the look out for a muse. Some inspiration. A Gru-like "light bulb" moment. Something that can spur on the flow of writing for another successful short story.

Someone help, please. Be my muse. Hit me with some inspiration. Be the catalyst for breaking my little writers block moment here!

Your faithful ones

My greatest desire right now is that my children grow to love God. Not just because we, their parents, have told them to; but, because they themselves have experienced their own genuine and authentic encounter with the love of God and His great faithfulness. 

We pray that God will help us to lead them well, to walk in His ways and to know His purpose for their lives, but one day they will need to choose to make their faith their own. 

So I pray that He will guard their hearts as they walk in this world. I pray that they will seek to know Him and understand His incredible grace and mercy. I pray that they will perceive His enduring and unfailing love.

"We love because He first loved us." 1 John 4:19 

May our children be counted among Your faithful ones.

Behold, my God will make a way!

"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. BEHOLD [emphasis mine], I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I WILL MAKE A WAY [emphasis mine] in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." - Isaiah 43:18-19

Behold, my God will make a way.

And He has.

How many of you who call the One True God, Your God, cannot say that God MADE A WAY for you in your wilderness, in your times of trial.
The wilderness; that place of bewilderment; that place where everything seems to be smothering you, overwhelming you with it's thick canopy and you are left feeling confused, lost, and uncertain.
The desert; that place of desperation; that place where everything you thought you knew and possessed seems to be stripped away from you and you are left feeling desolate, empty, alone, and thirsty for life giving hope.

When you look back, did God not make a way?

It's been said many times before, but I will reiterate what I have heard from many pulpits and from many mouths, that the Psalmist says "EVEN THOUGH I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil".
EVEN THOUGH, not IF. It's a WHEN IT WILL happen, not if it maybe happens. Therefore, if our loving God does not promise us that we will have clear, smooth sailing when we accept Him as our Lord and Saviour, then what do we do with those valleys, wildernesses and deserts?
Let me put the emphasis then on another word: "Even though I walk THROUGH the valley..."
Did you get that? Have you heard it before and maybe glossed over it with the all too familiar voice in my head that has said "Yeah, whatever, Pastor. You don't know just how horrible a valley I'm in at the moment. You don't know how bad I have it right now."

The Psalmist recalls, not just that he was allowed to go through the difficult time, but that he knows that he can acknowledge that HE CAME THROUGH IT, that he didn't stay in that place. He continues with the great proclamation "FOR YOU ARE WITH ME".

His God not only made a way, but God was WITH HIM through it.

When you look back, can you not see how God was with you, how He made a way through?
Maybe it was a person; those timely earthly angels that God places in our lives to be a great source of comfort, encouragement and prayer support when you're struggling. Maybe it was a book; something that brought you a revelation that gave you strength to keep walking. Maybe it was occupation; something that engaged your time and gave you fuel to keep powering on for someone else's or something else's sake.
God is OMNIPRESENT. That means that He is EVERYWHERE. He's not just in one tangible place and therefore, you don't need to wait for Him to show up. He is already here. He is in that best friend that sent you bible verses to encourage you. He is in that book that spoke to you about God's enduring faithfulness and set your eyes back upon Him. He is that child that you were able to serve with your best self and know that you were still having a positive impact in the world, and that there are good things worth fighting for.
He was with you, even if you didn't notice the fiery pillar lighting the path ahead in the dark night. He was with you, even if you didn't hear his voice booming above you. He was with you, even if you didn't see the angels standing in your prison of despair to shake the chains from your ankles.
Even though we so often wish that He would, God doesn't always work in blindingly obvious ways.
But He still asks us to PERCEIVE IT.

Perhaps you do not yet have the beautiful God-given gift of hindsight. Perhaps you have not yet noticed how His hand has been upon you to guide you through.
Have you still been remembering the former things? Have you still been considering the things of old?
Turn around. Look forward to where you are going, and turn from looking behind you. See that God is doing a NEW THING. See that He has made a way ahead of you, to come out of the wilderness, to walk clear of the desert to lie down in green pastures and sit beside still waters. Let Him restore your soul.

"SURELY GOODNESS AND MERCY WILL FOLLOW ME ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE"! (Psalm 23:6)

Florence & Rose: The Crepe Paper Train

Copyright 12th February 2015 Elizabeth Paterson

Florence and Rose were both very fine rabbits;

They kept their ears brushed and had very fine habits,

And every so often they would bound down the lane

To jump up on board the pink crepe paper train.

The train started rolling with billowing steam

And Florence then served up some strawberries and cream.

They sat down beside a bright, clear window pane

And admired the views from the crepe paper train.

Rose hopped in excitement and Florence giggled with glee.

They ate lemonade scones and drank raspberry tea.

And they waved at the horse with the caramel mane

And leaned out the window of the crepe paper train.

Florence wore a sunflower hat on her head;                       

She'd tried to hold onto it, but it blew off instead.

It flew over the meadow and far through the plain

And then far from sight of the crepe paper train.

Rose saw a pot on the sill filled with Clover;

She would fashion a garland and hopped quickly over

To cover dear Florence's head with the chain

And rally her friend's spirits on the crepe paper train.

The train took them home to the dandelion hill

With the great willow tree and the old flour mill.

Florence and Rose, in the cool falling rain,

Waved farewell to the crepe paper train.

Milo's Library

Copyright 23rd February 2015 Elizabeth Paterson

Milo was a mouse who lived in a great library.

A library wasn’t usually a place for a mouse to feel welcome, but in return for his promise not to chew on any books, Ms Watkins, the Librarian, had given Milo cheese and a cozy shoe box to sleep in.

Milo also served as Ms Watkins’ reader.

Ms Watkins was an elderly woman who was now half blind; it had been years since spectacles had given her any benefit.

Milo enjoyed reading to Ms Watkins and the library provided so many books to choose from.

He loved them all.

His whiskers would twitch with delight as he read the lively rhymes of Dr Seuss, his paws would float jovially in the air as he pretended to be pulling on the strings of the puppet Pinocchio, and his nose would rise up in the air as he would imagine smelling the roses in the Secret Garden.

But his favourites were the Tales of Beatrix Potter. As a mouse he found a common ground with books that told of rabbits in jackets, ducks in bonnets, and yes, a mouse in a dress and apron!

He knew the smell of those pages as precious and individually unique to the other books in the library.

But today the beautiful collection of complete tales was missing. At least, it was not in the place on the shelf where it should be and he didn’t think it had been borrowed; on those days he would content himself with “The Wind In The Willows”.

To ask Ms Watkins if she’d seen the beloved book would be a waste of time. Her poor eyesight was worse some days more than others, and as Milo now watched her pouring her tea into the biscuit jar, it seemed to be a bad day.

If only he could prick up his round ears and hear Mr McGregor shouting “Stop thief!” through the pages.

He knew it so well he could almost taste the lettuces, and smell the radishes.

Smell! That’s it!

Milo knew the smell of that book like a blue cheese. He lifted his nose to the air, not to smell the roses in the hidden garden of Misselthwaite Manor, but to catch the scent of those pages.

It was there. The scent was caught amidst the dusty air of the library.

He scampered quickly across the great carpet and followed the scent as though a string was pulling on the end of his nose, passed the Wizard of Oz, to the large round pillow on the floor next to the children’s books.

A young girl was curled up with the book, and when she saw Milo, she gently patted the spot beside her, inviting the little mouse to join her.

He bounded up to her side, and with great anticipation he watched her turn the first page.

“Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were –“

Flexing Muscles

Someone wrote a few tips on a creative writing website I read recently. They talked about treating your writing like a muscle. USE IT DAILY, they said. Write a letter, an email, jot down a short poem, scribble a note to a friend, or if you really have the motivation, tackle a chapter of that great novel you've been dreaming about. Whatever the medium, flex your writing muscles and strengthen them with daily use.
Well, the idea of daily seems out of reach given the fact that I'm a stay at home Mum to two gorgeous children and other commitments, but perhaps I can ascribe to the 20 mins a day 3 times a week strategy they used to encourage for physical fitness.

So far I have been writing mainly children's stories. After reading so many books to my two year old son, who I will call Ewan for privacy, I started to become a little frustrated with what I was reading. I was even more disturbed about things that I have been seeing on the ABC 4 Kids television shows. I feel as though whoever produced 'Yo Gabba Gabba' must have been taking illicit drugs; the psychedelic themes make my head hurt. Then there is the absence of educational value in ridiculous shows such as 'In the Night Garden'; "Oh look, we're going to ride the Ninky Nonk", (next day) "Oh look, it's the Ninky Nonk", (next day) "Oh look, Iggle Piggle is on the Ninky Nonk". Can you hear the beat of my head thudding repeatedly on the table?
Alas, they fall very short of the expectations I had when I entered Motherhood, and perhaps that's more where the problem truly lies - my expectations.
Of course I don't remember what my interest in books was like when I was two, or if my mother let me watch much tv except for Play School (or if there was much else other than Play School for toddlers to watch in 1989). But as I grew a little older my mother would read to us books such as the Chronicles of Narnia, The Secret Garden, and Beatrix Potter's tales.
I've realized that these books are really beyond the interest of a two year old. Beatrix Potter will be the closest bridge in the gap between simplistic writing and pictures that aim to get a child to develop a love of books as they grow, as Beatrix Potter combines a more sophisticated vocabulary, more engaging themes, and has the benefit of drawing further attention with beautiful illustrations.
This is how I wanted my writing to be when I decided to write something for Ewan to read and enjoy someday. I loved the idea of having beautiful illustrations with words themselves that induced vivid imagery in the readers imagination; perhaps vivid enough that the pictures would be made a little redundant. To foster the imagination. To encourage the idea of constructing things in your own mind without being spoon fed what everything is supposedly meant to look like. After all, if our children can't learn to challenge what's given to them then we are essentially deviating towards a totalitarian society. Dramatic, perhaps, to suggest such a degradation of life as we know it, but it is something to ponder. Where exactly was it that changes in our society happened? There is not always a clear big event that changes in history have pivoted around but something more invisible; in the daily little things where we decide to make change.
Can we keep creativity alive? Can we nurture curiosity that leads to invention and innovation?
Just spare me another riveting adventure of the Ninky Nonk because I already know that Iggle Piggle will be the last one to get to bed.

Whoa what a workout... muscles flexed...must be time for chocolate :)