…in search of momentum
Many readers of this blog will be familiar with the tale of ‘The Littlest Star’. On November 27th 2011 I wrote a small children’s story and within three weeks it had been illustrated, formatted, printed and put on sale. Since then it has raised over £2000 for Shooting Star Chase, visited book fairs in three countries and featured on national and local radio. It is still available as a printed book and an audio download. All this was made possible, without a penny changing hands, by the collaborative creativity and generosity of people connected through social media.
I am coming to you now to ask you for your help once again. Momentum is a locally-based charity who work with children who have cancer or life-limiting conditions. Momentum support the child, their siblings and their wider families through what may prove to be the hardest times of all. They offer all kinds of support for every member of the family affected. Needless to say, this all costs money, and fundraising is vital.
I cannot run a marathon or dive from a plane, but I can write stories, which is what I have done. Based around Mo the Little Owl (the charity’s mascot) I have written a children’s story about love, loss and friendship. You can find a small excerpt underneath the picture of Mo below. Of course a children’s book is nothing without illustrations, as witnessed by the way James Robinson brought Littlest Star to life with his gorgeous artwork. Who will help me to give The Tale of the Little Owl wings by providing bespoke artwork free of charge?
Contact me via the comments on this post or on Twitter if you can help. I would love to hear from you as soon as possible as there are thirteen illustrations to be found.
‘Mo was a little owl. I don’t mean that he was smaller than all the others (although he was), but a ‘little owl’ was the kind of bird he was. He lived on a farm just down the road from the Shorefield cabins on the edge of the New Forest.
Of all the owls who lived in the barn at Yew Tree Farm, he was the smallest. When Tammy the Tawny owl would swoop into the barn like a jet plane, he would hide out of the way. When Brian the barn owl would blink his huge dinner plate eyes, Mo would look the other way. When Sally the Snowy Owl would whoosh out of the barn like a flurry of snow on her magnificent white wings, he would wait for a quieter moment to take his short flight.
Mo’s place was a corner of the oldest beam just to the side of the big barn door. Above it was a little hole in the old roof where he could see the stars, and below it was a pile of straw which was his favourite place in the whole farm.’