The next morning I didn't muck around. I grabbed a piece of paper and started writing, to see where that first stanza might take me. Maybe my subconscious had worked on it overnight, maybe a clear head after a good night's sleep was what did it, but it all came pouring out. The central conceit, the metamorphosis, and (what I felt was) a most satisfying conclusion. I transferred the story onto the computer and began to rewrite and refine. While not strictly rhyming, the text had developed a particular rhythm and it was fun to play with language techniques, particularly as the techniques, in addition to the words themselves, supported the key themes. As I reflected on what I'd written I felt excited at the destination I'd arrived at from that very simple beginning. I could see one main thread of the text gave a mental nod to The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but there were other influences too. The first thought as I'd lain in bed the night before had been of Beedle, which has a lovely structure/mouth feel/rhythm all it's own. Of course many of us have heard this name through Rowling's The Tales of Beedle the Bard, but I was just playing with the word in my head, and words like beetle and doodle and a few other two syllable sound alikes. It was just random thinking, word play, where I suspect a lot of good ideas are born. I'd thought about Emily Gravett too, and the self-referential metafictiveness of her work. Of course dear reader, as you will know, Beedle became Fuzzy. Despite the buzz of inspiration that first night, 'Fuzzy' became a better fit with the picture I had in my mind, of that first little doodle. More reader friendly too, I thought.
Once I'd launched off with the idea of a doodle that comes to life in the margin of the page (where many doodles start their lives in the real world), it seemed obvious that (like a caterpillar) the doodle would be hungry and on a page what is there to eat but words and pictures. The act of consuming culture can make us creative ourselves. Just like the doodle, we can experience a creative metamorphosis. The ideas grew and wrapped back around themselves and the more I thought about it, the more layers I could see in what I was writing. I love layers. It is always my goal when writing to make an iceberg out of my narrative with the text visible above, and a whole lot of ideas going on below. Or maybe it's a cabbage. Or an onion.
Of course the text is only part of the story when it comes to picture books. I sent the manuscript off to the publisher, Scholastic, and in November 2013 they signed the story up for publication. The hunt began for an illustrator and in 2014 Donovan Bixley came on board. His schedule meant waiting until mid 2016 for publication, but it was so worth the wait. His artwork picks up on everything in the text and extends it. All deceptively simple and yet it is what good art should be. Beautiful, and inspiring and empowering.
Since Fuzzy Doodle has been published, readers have broadened the discussion of what it all means. During a school visit on my recent tour of Northland with Storylines, a teacher asked me if the book was autobiographical,and straight away I said yes. I hadn't consciously thought of it that way but of course he was right. On that very first night when that phrase popped in to my head, and when I began to work the story the very next day I knew that things I've seen and read and watched and smelt and tasted and touched coalesce into ideas, and become my books. And then in the best kind of magic, my books can become grist in the creative mills of others. One of my biggest thrills has been discovering that young readers previously not confident in their own creative skills have been encouraged by the book to make all kinds of art. After all, stories begin with one simple idea popping into our heads last thing at night, and art can grow from that little doodle in the margin at the edge.