Imagination at Full Speed
I wouldn’t be the first writer to have been asked: “When are you going to write some proper books? Like, for adults?” Any children’s / YA writer reading this is now nodding vigorously and the room is shaking with the butterfly effect.
But that’s okay. Some people left childhood reading behind and have no desire to go back there. We can all just roll our eyes in a gigantic-sarcastic Mexican wave. What I find interesting is how hard I have to work to let my mind be as free as it needs to be to write something that will appeal to a child. Because their minds are different. Their imagination is such that while when writers hit the note the child has the imagination to fill in all the blanks, in the first place the writer has to remember what it’s like not to be so tied down in reality.
Take my son, who recently asked me: “Mum, how big is a thief?” “Um, it depends,” I said. “Humans come in all shapes and sizes.” He gasped, “You mean a thief is the same size AS A HUMAN??” “A thief IS a human,” I replied. He looked at me like I’d just come down in the last shower. “Mum, a thief is a creature. They’re quite small actually. Like the one who took my scooter from the porch when I was three. That was a thief, right?”
And at this point I thought to myself – do I tell him that the scooter-thief was a young man who’d just rolled out of a pub on a Sunday night? Or do I let him think there really are Borrower-types lurking around? I don’t know where he got his information from – he hasn’t actually read The Borrowers or seen the movie, and he couldn’t tell me how he knew about these creatures, these tiny devilish thieves. I suspect they’d existed in his head for two years, unchecked by the boring reality, perhaps influenced by other fantastical stories.
I did try to set him straight but I don’t think he believed me. After all, his story is much better.

I can imagine him taking the word “thief” and associating it with a small creature taking his scooter: it sounds right, doesn’t it? Like Elf. Thief. Pointy ears. Evil grin. Actually I had a similar experience when I went to school and over the weekend some kids had vandalised the buildings. I imagined these “vandals” to be little devil things, gleefully daubing graffiti everywhere and breaking windows, cackling as they went.
When I was little I knew of “robbers”, or people who broke into houses. I imagined them to be people apart from society: the sort who would barrack for Skeletor instead of He-Man. I couldn’t imagine how *anyone* could barrack for Skeletor, but reasoned that if someone was bad enough to rob a house I couldn’t put anything past them. They wore masks like the Hamburglar, incidentally.
And it’s funny I should read this the day I discovered my bike missing: some little “thieves” made off with it yesterday, lock and all…
And you know, if I tell Jonah that a thief stole your bike he’ll say: “I bet it’s the same thief that stole my scooter.” The world is small and sparsely populated in his head – and this is a child who has done several long-haul trips! I remember when Madeleine used to think “London” consisted of West End Lane, so when I’d walk her down to Kilburn she’d ask “Are we near France yet?”
I’m very sorry about your bike. You could borrow mine if you don’t mind looking like Angela Lansbury in Bedknobs and Broomsticks.
Who *wouldn’t* want to look like Angela Lansbury in Bedknobs and Broomsticks? “It’s lovely bobbing along, bobbing along on the bottom of the beautiful briiiiiiiney sea…”
Very funny Emily! Would make a good picture book
A
Hi Alexandra,
Yes, that’s the great thing about children – stealing their ideas
Kidding. A bit.
Emily