The Elf and the Little Unicorn

By James Hywel

When James Hywel is asked by his publisher to write another children's book, you'd be right in thinking it would be the easiest thing in the world. After all, he has written over twenty books without any problems - until now! Because now, his characters have their own ideas and start dictating how a book should be written. Chaos soon reigns in his study as the characters take charge, no matter how much authority James tries to wield. This story highlights why authors should never work with children, animals, Elves or Unicorns!

The process James has used in this book in making himself the character in the story is called Self-insertion and has been used by several authors including Stephen King (Books six and seven of the Dark Tower anthology), Jonathan Ames (The Alcoholic), W. Somerset Maugham (The Razor's Edge), Bret Easton Ellis (Lunar Park) and Geoffrey Chaucer (The Canterbury Tales).

(Suitable for children aged 8+)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oink Books
• Release date: Jan 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215634127

James Hywel

James began dabbling in writing in 2001 with many of his first books going to 5th and 6th editions. In August 2021 he wrote The Musings of the Milliner for and featuring his niece and nephew in Scotland. Little did he know that this book would be the start of The Magical Misadventures of Mr Milliner series (now containing seven books). His next series was the much-loved Adventures of Albert Mouse, featuring Dartmouth’s most fa-mouse resident, Albert Mouse. James has now written over 30 children's books. To try and explain where his stories come from would be impossible and not even James can explain it. His writing process is as unorthodox and quirky as his books are magical and mind-transporting. James pens a weekly email entitled Letters from the Oak Tree where he talks about writing, books, and basically anything and everything else.

Book preview

One

James Hywel was sitting in his music room, listening to Johann Sebastian Bach’s The Goldberg Variations when there was a knock at the door.

It’s open, he called.

The door slowly opened.

I know you are trying to relax, dear, but Geoffrey is on the phone, said his wife.

Morton? asked James. What does he want?

Well, obviously he wants to talk to you. He says it’s quite urgent.

It’s always urgent with publishers, said James settling deeper into his large armchair.

Well, aren’t you going to take it? asked his wife.

Tell him I’m busy in the garden and that I’ll call him later…. maybe, replied James, closing his eyes again.

He said to tell you that using the excuse ‘you are in the garden and will call him later’ won’t work, smiled Mrs Hywel.

Blast! said James slapping both his hands down on the chair arms and heaving himself out of his chair.

He stormed out of the room, down the long corridor to the small table in the hallway and picked up the telephone that was lying on its side.

James took several deep breaths, fixed a false smile on his face and spoke into the mouthpiece.

Geoffrey, so nice to hear from you. And what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? he said.

James, I hope I’m not disturbing you?

You never disturb me, Geoffrey. I was just in the garden pruning my roses.

"Oh, your wife said you were in the music room listening to Bach? The Goldberg Variations, she said. Personally, I prefer the Brandenburg Concertos. Anyway, I won’t take too much of your time. The thing is you’ve been a bit quiet lately. Well, I say lately, but, frankly, it’s been seven months since your last book and we were thinking that it’s high time we saw another one of your magical stories. Something to hit the shelves just before Christmas."

Geoffrey paused and waited for James to reply.

James, are you still there? asked Geoffrey.

I’m here, replied the author.

Well?

Well, what?

Well, what do you say about writing another children’s book? sighed Mr Morton.

There was another long silence.

Come on James, think about the joy on the faces of all those children on Christmas morning as they open their presents and there in their hands is the latest James Hywel book, said Geoffrey. It will be magical!

James placed the handset down on the table and walked to the window. He stood there for several minutes looking across the lawns. His gaze meandered in between the flower beds, past the neatly trimmed yew hedges towards the fine metal railings of the fence that was the boundary to the meadows beyond.

James, are you there? came the faint voice coming from the telephone.

The children’s author began to count the sheep in the meadow.

Hello? came the faint voice from the telephone again.

Just then Mrs Hywel walked along the corridor and saw the handset laying on the table. She then glanced at her husband who was still staring out of the window.

Oh, James, you haven’t left Geoffrey hanging on the line, have you?

I’m thinking, he replied, his gaze still fixed on the meadow. How many lambs do you think will be born this year?

James!

Ok, ok, he said, turning around and walking back to the table.

He picked up the handset and held it to his ear.

….which is a sum not to be sneezed at, said Geoffrey, still pleading his case for another book.

What is? asked James.

The advance! said Geoffrey. Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said?

James remained silent and slowly turned his head back to the window.

Look, I’ll put it all in a letter and we can talk later, but, James, the clock is ticking and we will have to have a manuscript fairly soon so we can start to get the printing wheels in motion.

James was still staring out of the window and felt sure another six sheep had appeared in the meadow.

Ok, well, I’m sure you’ll come up with a title and concept. Good talking to you. Bye for now.

You too, bye Geoffrey, said James, placing the receiver down.

Darling, have we acquired some more sheep? One of them looks like a small donkey, he asked.

James, be serious for a moment. What did Geoffrey want? she asked.

Oh, they want me to write another book, something about Christmas being around the corner and all that. It’s only the end of June for goodness sake, said James, walking to the window.

That’s wonderful news, James.

No, it isn’t Eleanor. They have probably come in from old Harriet’s place, but I don’t think they have a donkey, muttered James.

His wife sighed.

I’m talking about the book offer. You haven’t written anything in quite a while.

Hmm, that’s what Geoffrey said. You know what, they are Harriet’s sheep! he said straining his eyes through the bright sunshine.

James, I’m not sure what the problem is. You used to be chained to your typewriter, churning out book after book. What’s happened?

Nothing’s happened, I just don’t seem to have any ideas lately.

It’s not like you to have writer’s block, said his wife in a gentler voice.

It’s not writer’s block, snapped James. I just don’t have any ideas for a title much less a story.

It will come to you, I know it will, she said and left James staring at the new additions to his flock.

That is a blessed donkey, he said to himself.

Two

Several days later the publisher’s letter arrived just as Geoffrey Morton had promised. James knew the letter was from them, not only did he recognise the quality of the envelope but they were the only ones who wrote ‘Esquire’ after his name on the address.

Pompous individuals, he said as he cast the unopened letter onto his desk and then went out into the garden.

A few days later, Mrs Hywel noticed the unopened letter still laying on James’s desk, picked it up and went to find her husband.

Leaving this unopened isn’t going to solve your writer’s block, she said, waving the envelope under his nose.

It’s not writer’s block! I just need to wait until something comes to me and Morton will just have to wait as well, that’s all.

Well if you won’t open it, then I will, she said tearing open the envelope and unfolding the crisp cream letter.

Oh my, she said, lifting the cheque that had been stapled to the letter and looking at it.

James didn’t look up and seemed completely uninterested in the contents of the letter.

See, I told you it wasn’t worth opening, he said.

Did Geoffrey mention this? she asked.

Mention what?

The advance, said his wife.

Uh, he mentioned something about it. They are always dangling carrots in the hope that they will perk you into action. I don’t know how many times I’ve told that man I’m not in it for the money, said James.

Mrs Hywel removed the cheque from the