The Story Behind the Story - Part 2

It’s November 2014. My grandmother sends me a text. “I’ve found something for you… I sent it in the mail… You should get it in a few days… maybe you could do something with them?? Emoji emoji emoji. Grandma is impressively good at texting. For being a grandma, that is. Her texts make me smile. I’m always impressed by the sheer number of ellipses between each thought.

            Sure enough, a few days later, I receive a large manila envelope in the mail. I am shocked and delighted by what I find inside. Hand written, on yellow memo pad paper, are the original two stories of Mr. Schnoozle, accompanied by an ever-so-endearing coloured pencil drawing done by my aunt. Underneath the image, in her type-font-perfect penmanship, it says, “Is this the Mr. Schnoozle you know?”

            I call my grandmother, squealing with glee. “I can’t believe you found these! This is amazing! Where were they?”

            “Oh, Gretchen, you wouldn’t believe it!” Her voice bubbles over with giggles, as it often does when she is excited about something – one of my favourite sounds in the whole world. “Well, you know how Papa and I are trying to clean out our house to get ready for moving to Grants Pass.”

            “Mmm hmm,” I say, eager to hear how this story pans out.

            “You wouldn’t even believe the amount of stuff we have collected over the years. I mean, I just keep saying to Daddy, I mean Papa, “Where did all this stuff come from? Well, anyway, Papa had just taken this box full of who-knows-what out to the big garbage bin in the garage. He was about to walk away, and something made him stop. There was an envelope sitting on top of the pile, and he didn’t know what was in it – I have chills just thinking about this – "

            “Me too!” I interject.

“ – I mean, imagine his surprise when he found these stories in your Daddy’s handwriting! I heard him from the house saying, ‘Julie, Julie, you have to come look at this,’ and when I saw what he was holding, oh Gretchen, we both just started bawling!”

“Oh grandma, what an amazing story! I can’t tell you how happy this makes me to have these again!”

“I know how you love writing, and I thought maybe you could do something with them.”

“Yeah… maybe!” I tried to sound enthusiastic. “We’ll see!” Write children’s stories? The thought had never crossed my mind... until now.

I don’t remember when it was or where I was when I started to write. All I know is that when I finished reading the stories she had sent me, I wanted to know what happened next to Mr. Schnoozle. I wanted to know what other adventures he would go on, who else he would meet, whom he would befriend. I imagined what my dad would’ve written if he’d had the chance. Would I finally have made it into his tales? The little girl in me wondered. In an effort to answer these questions, I began to write. 

Two years, and a million revisions, later, The Adventures of Mr. Schnoozle was born.