About a year ago I made up a story for my kid, and it was wonderful.  Now, of course, I remember it like a dream.  Why didn’t I start this sooner?

  • One character had a piece of fabric that looked like the night sky one one side, and the day on the other.  When she shook it out, it would suddenly bring her back and forth between the day and the night (alternate magical dimension).
  • At one point she was running to escape something.  She dropped something on the forest floor, and it fell into the soil.  She shook out her fabric and in the night dimension it grew into a tree that went into the sky.
  • Or maybe it was the tree that grew a nut, and inside the nut was the fabric?

Last night I finished reading “Lucky Break” by Roald Dahl to my daughter, who was very interested and patient despite being four.  He describes his little book of ideas, some of which grew into his wonderful stories.  

This was part of the reason for starting this.  My interests are diverse and random, and my ideas are frequent throwaways, and why not keep them together somewhere?

I once thought I’d write for children.  Maybe I will someday.  I’ve always loved folklore, and words, and rhyming.  I go crazy for a good portmanteau (coined by Lewis Carroll!) and one of my great recent sadnesses in life is that The Internet Anagram Server has implemented the worst invasive advertising I’ve ever seen to use the service (I had to answer NINE survey questions about grass-fed beef to find out Amuse Cerveaux anagrams to A Mauver Excuse).



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