I caught the tail end of Finding Neverland today, right at that section where Barrie brought in the 25 orphans to watch the opening of Peter Pan. Remember that? High Society was in the audience, and the opening moments of the play – which included a man in a silly dog costume interacting playfully with the young characters – was greeted with austere silence. Then the children started giggling at the dog’s antics, and within minutes their delight spilled onto the adults, sweeping them along in the ensuing enchantment of the play.
It’s something to remember for children’s books, isn’t it? Like the orphans in the audience, it seems the very best stories have the ability to coax adults into leaving grown-up perspectives at the door to tap into the magic of their inner child. It allows them to join in children’s enjoyment, to be captivated and enthralled right with them.
Writing that kind of story seems near-impossible, like searching for a needle in a haystack. What within a child also lies hidden in the adult? And how does one write to draw it out?
‘Tis a question I will be pondering… 🙂