My project in Children's Novel Writing for Beginners course

My project in Children's Novel Writing for Beginners course

(Cover photo by SenuScape on pexels.com —not quite a UK scene to fit the story, but pretty nevertheless)

A writer’s Journey (part of a longer story, perhaps)

Millie and Maddie stood on the train, waving wildly through the window, at their mother on the platform. The train stumbled forward before accelerating smoothly away.

“Hurray. Beach, here we come. Mountain bikes, here we come…” cried Millie still on her feet and pointing straight ahead.

“Ice Cream?” suggested Maddie.

“Ginger and Pineapple Ice Cream, that is, here we come,” said Millie before they both allowed themselves to fall onto their seats, giggling.

They looked about the carriage, but there were few passengers to be upset by their noise. The rhythmic sound and the sideways wiggle of the train soon settled them, and they sat silently, until the conductor arrived.

After a quick conversation, the conductor parted, wishing them a pleasant journey and enjoyable stay at their aunt’s.

“Shall we open the first present?” said Millie.

They looked inside the identical cotton bags their mother had handed them on the platform, after that is, the embarrassing hugs and kisses.

“Here’s mine. Day One,” said Maddie reading a label.

“I’ve got mine too. They look the same. We best open them together,” said Millie.

Maddie unwrapped hers carefully, while Millie tore into hers. They revealed notebooks, covers decorated with seahorses and shells, and a set of pencils each.

Both books had a small note slipped inside which read, “To my dearest daughters, fill these with words and pictures, to help you remember happy days . Enjoy yourselves, Love Mum.”

“I do feel a bit bad now,” said Maddie

“What is there to feel bad about? I am going to fill mine with sketches and you can write stories in yours.”

“I feel bad that we were so pleased that mother wasn’t coming with us. And she doesn’t look well.”

“Maddie, mother couldn’t come and she’s fine. Just think, we can do whatever we want, this time—well near enough, Aunt is so hopeless at telling us off. Mum wants us to enjoy ourselves.”

“True,” said Maddie but she looked away and followed the movement of the passing countryside through the window.

Millie quickly completed her first sketch of a passenger dozing further along the carriage, before the squeal of brakes and the slowing of the train awoke her subject. As the train pulled into the next station, she was twisting and turning the notebook in her hand, trying to assess her drawing. Through the window, Maddie watched a handful of passengers lift bags and edge towards the train.

A lady under a large-brimmed hat with an obedient black Labrador appeared in their carriage and sat at an empty table not far from theirs. The hat along with a colourful tote bag were placed onto the table and out of the bag came a large notebook, a couple of pens, a flask, and a mug. The dog snuggled down on the floor, head on front paws.

Maddie’s gaze now turned inside and drifted towards their new companion and her dog. The lady smiled at her, and Maddie smiled back. The train drifted on through the warm sunshine.

“Stop staring at her,” whispered Mille, leaning forward.

“I am not, but she…I have seen her somewhere.” Maddie whispered back.

“Perhaps, you have seen her in one of your stories you never finish,” said Millie.

“Perhaps…” conceded Maddie. “Actually, I’ve remembered. It’s Angela Bradshaw.”

“Who?”

“She’s a writer (and she’s writing now, so, it must be her). She’s very successful—some of her books have been made into films.”

“Isn’t that dog lovely. I wish mother would let us have a dog,” said Millie.

“It’s from Battersea Dog’s Home, I guess.”

“How do you know that?”

“It says it on the lead.”

“That’s cheating. Do you think Angela Bradgate...”

“Bradshaw.”

“Well, her as well. Do you think she would mind if I drew her and her dog? She might even buy the picture from me.” And Millie re-positioned herself with her notebook to have a more direct view of her subjects.

“Millie, stop it. Excuse me, we were just talking…and are you the writer Angela Bradshaw?”

The lady smiled at them both before replying, “Ah, I have been found out. I am.”

“Sorry to interrupt you. Are you writing a new book?”

“What a lovely dog, can I stroke her?” added Millie.

“Yes, to both questions. Her name is Nellie or Nell, both are fine.”

Millie got up from her seat and sat facing Angela, so she could stroke Nell”

She leant across the table and whispered to Angela, “My sister tries to write, but she never manages to finish anything. I like to draw. Would it be all right if I sketched you?”

“I would be honoured — perhaps, your work will be in the Tate one day.”

“Do you think so? Oh, isn’t that wonderful.”

“If you are going to draw me, I will need to keep still and so I think I may need to take advantage of the facilities first. Would you be so kind as to keep an eye on Nellie, and, also, my notebook and pens?” said Angela rising from her seat. Nell raised her chin slightly and lifted her eyes. “You stay here. I will be back in a moment,” said Angela, with a reassuring pat.

“Of course, we will.” said Maddie.

“Thank you,” said Angela who started to step away, with an air of hesitancy, before turning back to explain further.

“Usually, I pack them away— the notebook and pens, that is. I know it sounds strange, but I don’t like anybody looking at my writing—not until its finished. There’s a certain magic…Anyway, I am a bit superstitious about my writing. I don’t even like someone touching my pens.” and she looked wistfully back at, what appeared to Maddie and Millie to be, a couple of very ordinary of pens. “I know it sounds odd, but perhaps, you have to be odd to become a writer.”

As soon as Angela had left the carriage, with Maddie now wondering if she was odd enough to become a writer, Millie looked mischievously at her and said, “Go on. Have a look. Quick before she comes back. You never know some of the magic might leap off her page and onto you,” she added with a smile.

“I can’t”

“Go on, she’ll never know. Go on” urged Millie.

“All right, I won’t get close. I’ll just have a glance.”

Maddie took a few furtive glances down at Angela’s open notebook from the aisle, when Millie gave her such a shove from the side that she fell awkwardly across the seats. While Millie dashed back to her seat, laughing, Maddie got to her feet, placing her hands on the table. At that moment another train shot past, giving Maddie a jolt. She gasped in horror, realising one hand was touching the notebook and one the pens. Scrambling back to her place, she scowled at Millie, who turned away, trying to hold her laugher back.

They soon saw Angela wading back along the carriage. Millie smiled, while Maddie slid down in her chair with a grimace.