Now and then, I get an idea for a story that seems to come out of nowhere. Other times something will prompt it: a piece of artwork, poetry, or the lyrics of a song, a movie scene, or a vivid dream. Occasionally it will be a conversation or even something inanimate that just gets the juices flowing. The latter possibility is what prompted this blog post, but I need to give you the background details first.
My younger grandkids have an excess of toys now, things they've been given by relatives over the holidays and for birthdays and special occasions. Many are no longer being played with. So Mom, Dad, and Uncle Jason who have to deal with that mess on a daily basis have asked them to pick through what they have, decide what they should keep, and either pass on the rest to younger relatives or donate the excess. It's a slow process and kid-driven, because young children (they are a 6 and 7 year old sister and brother) have a tough time parting with anything. My granddaughter is the youngest, and she loves her baby dolls and stuffed animals, so it's especially hard for her. So I was visiting one day and she told me about how they were going to thin out the toys, but then went running off and came back with a light colored, fuzzy teddy bear. She wanted me to take it home in case I got lonely when I couldn't come over, so I'd have something to hug and I wouldn't forget her. I thought that was very sweet to worry about Grandma being lonesome like that. Naturally I forgot to actually take the teddy bear with me when I left, but she did not forget, and on my next visit she brought it to me again. This time, it went home with me.
Grandma is sentimental about such things, and the gift of a grandchild to me is a token of love that I hold near and dear to my heart. That teddy bear was going to be cherished. It did not have a name, and obviously was never played with much, but to want to give me a part of her collection showed how important I am in my granddaughter's life. So I set him on the bookcase headboard of my bed, where he managed to fall into bed with me almost every night. He's not that big, so I didn't notice until the next morning that I was sleeping with a teddy bear. I've slept with worse, but that's a story for another day. 😉 Anyway, I have a writer's imagination. and so it didn't take long before the teddy bear began to talk to me. He told me his name was 'Tucker T. Bear' and that he had some stories to share.
Oh yes, Tucker has stories! Once you open that magic door to inventive imagery, they all start tumbling out like an overstuffed closet. I found out that Tucker came to life when three tears from a grandmother and granddaughter dripped down on him at the same time. He resides with an elderly lady who writes greeting card poems for a living, in a big house full of marvelous things. His best friend, confidant, and mentor is an elder Scottish Terrier named McTavish with a very long and detailed pedigree. Tucker goes everywhere with his rather excentric mistress, who vacations all over the world. She often travels to greeting card conventions and dresses up for cosplay as any one of a number of characters her cards feature. So having a walking, talking, adventuresome teddy bear at her side is not going to stand out there. Just imagine the possibilities!
I actually dreamed about Tucker several times, but can only remember a couple of snatches from those dreams. He seems to have some sort of utility vest that he carries things in. In one dream he was riding a camel in a desert scene with pyramids in the background, so I assume they were vacationing in Egypt. In the another, it was a night scene where it was dark and foggy except for an overhead streelight where the illumination came down in a cone shape. Tucker was holding a sword shaped letter opener outthrust to keep the 'bogeymen' (dark shapes with glowing eyes) away. There was also something about having to ride in a hot air balloon to get over a dificult area—I could see him looking down in wide-eyed wonder and perhaps just a bit scared. That's pretty powerful incentive when you start dreaming ideas for a series of written adventures.
No matter whatever else I was writing, I couldn't stop thinking about Tucker and his stories. And believe me, I am plenty busy with three novels of my own in various states of completion, a fourth one I am editing and cowriting with someone else to finish for a deceased friend, and some other editing and writing projects begging for my attention. But Tucker refuses to take 'no' for an answer, so I am going to start picking away at his initial story as well. I've learned over the years to not ignore those probing pokes in the brain from the muse because some of the best stuff comes from random ideas that refuse to wait their turn. I won't drop everything to do it, but I will have to give Tucker's tales at least one day a week. Otherwise he's not going to let me sleep! Whatever I can get down on the pages can always be expanded later on.
While I primarily write for older teens and adults, I'm not the least bit daunted by having what amounts to a children's book idea crop up. My earliest writer training was in writing for kids, and I do have Companion Dragons Tales, which has an all ages appeal. This one though I want to be more accessible to beginning readers and listeners which are those youngest kids that adults read books to. I'd love to do picture books if I had the art background or had a dedicated artist to work with. I know what Tucker wants though; an ongoing chronicle of all of his exciting adventures in exotic locales where he can be whatever he wants to be. I think that's why he came to live with me, so that I could write his stories for him. There's nothing I'd love better than to hand my grandkids a book I wrote that has a teddy bear that used to live in their house as the main character. We'll see what happens, but right now I have got to get to work. Tucker expects more than a blog post from me today.
Writers... we get away with things that other people get medicated for! 🤣
You all keep reading them and I'll keep writing them,
~Nancy
