Writing a Book for Your Kids

Books play a big role in my life, so I decided to write one for my kids.

Books are giants in my life. They overshadow my past; they guide my present; they direct my future. This was always true of the books I read and loved: The Chronicles of Narnia, The Princess and the Goblin, Pilgrim’s Progress, poems from Wordsworth and Coleridge and Longfellow. But it’s also been true of the books I’ve written. So much of my adult life has been spent writing—writing as I struggle with anxiety, writing as I grieve, writing as I grow in gratitude. And, in a deeper sense, I’m always being written by others, especially by my wife and children. Authors are not just those who write; they are those who are written. So, my whole life is a book. In fact, maybe books are giants in my life because life itself is a giant extended metaphor—a front and back cover with thousands of leaves between.

But given how important books have been to me, and after writing over twenty of them for adults, it struck me that I had not written a book for my children, who at the time of writing are 11, 9, and 6. I was reading books to them every day. And I was amazed at the gifts and insights of other writers, how they brought characters to life, scenes to color, and longings to linger. Stories haunted us; their characters grew into our ordinary moments like wildflowers. And our remembrance of those characters and what happened to them instilled wisdom.

So, I decided to write a book for them, and I committed to reading them each chapter as I finished it. They were elated, and I was thrilled (and nervous).

“What’s it going to be called?” they asked. I thought for a few moments and said the first thing that came to mind—something that captured my childlike dream of flying and my love of old things: “The Castle in the Clouds,” I said. And so the book began.

Crafting a Story

Of course, coming up with a title is one thing. But the best stories I’d read to my kids always taught something powerful, even if they did so indirectly. What was my book going to teach them? Given that much of my thinking and writing over the years has dealt with the different perspectives we can take on life’s difficulties, and how we learn much about God and ourselves by shifting our perspective, I thought it fitting to start there. “This will be a story about perspective,” I said eagerly to three smiling faces—at which point, they responded with blank stares. Kids don’t care so much what stories are about. That’s an adult thing. Kids want to know what happens.

So I set off to tell my kids a tale that would make them smile, laugh, and learn, giving them exclusive access to each chapter as I drafted it. I needed a main character and a central problem: Griffin Smalls is the main character, and his problem is his smallness (a bit on the nose, I know). Smallness often draws bullying in grade school, and bullying of all sorts continues to be a prevalent problem for kids. And from that problem emerged Brian Swanson, a freakishly tall blond-haired fourth-grader who makes it his goal to pick on Griffin.

But the story also needed a mysterious figure to take Griffin on a wild adventure in the clouds: an eight-foot giant named Baglire the Wanderer. Think Gandalf, but without the wizard’s hat and with a snorting black pug named Winkles as a companion.

Each time I finished a chapter, I’d call the kids into the living room. “I finished the next one! Want to hear it?” They’d gather on the couch, and I’d do my spirited reading. They were enthusiasts—listening, grinning, drawing pictures as I spoke. And they gave me some helpful feedback, too. I save that for another post.

I won’t tell you anything else about the story, but I will tell you what the story teaches children, something that I’ve found increasingly important in my adult years: where you stand can change what you see. The Castle in the Clouds is a work of “contemporary Christian fiction” suited for 8-12 year-olds. Its goal is to show, with humor and creativity, how the grandest and hardest things happening all around us are often unseen. We need something special to alter our vision.

In the End

So, now that the book is finished, how do I feel? I experienced something strange. When you have a narrow audience—in this case, just three children—and that audience is wildly enthusiastic, it doesn’t matter so much what happens after that. The readers are satisfied, and so the writer is satisfied.

Time will tell if The Castle in the Clouds retains a place in their memory. But the whole experience has deepened my appreciation for storytellers and the mysterious joy of caring about what happens to imagined heroes and faraway places.

If you have kids at this age level, or if you just love literature meant for children (as I do), give the book a shot and see what you think.

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