The Power of Story, by Deborah Jenkins

When we have friends to stay, one of the things ask is if we can visit Pooh Bridge. They’ve read the books, seen the films and now they want to visit the place where Winnie the Pooh was born, in Ashdown Forest. We went there recently with our Australian friend, David. It was one of those rare autumn days with sharp sunshine and crisp leaves. We parked, and wandered down the hill, breathing in the smell of earth and woodsmoke. It was very quiet so when we got there, we were surprised to find the bridge heaving with people. One man had an entire rucksack stuffed with pieces of wood, some of them limb-sized. Someone told me that forest volunteers often have to clear the river below the bridge because it gets so clogged up with sticks from ardent players.

To me, this shows the power of story. A man races sticks with his son on an old wooden bridge in the forest. Then he writes about it in an imaginative and engaging children’s book and nearly a hundred years later, people are still coming, from as far afield as Australia, to play the game for themselves in the place where it was originally conceived. In fact, the bridge had so fired the public imagination that when East Sussex County Council tried to replace the rotting wooden structure with a more utilitarian version, there was an outcry. Disney, Methuen (the publishers), Nat West Bank and Pooh's worldwide fan club all made contributions towards the £30, 000 needed for its repair. And since 1984 there has been a World Poohsticks Championship held every year at Day's Lock on the River Thames. All from four short children's books. Incredible really. Would A A Milne ever have imagined this when he wrote them?

I was thinking about this when something else grabbed my attention. Earlier this month, a home video of a grandmother reading the children's picture book, Wonky Donkey, went viral. Why? Well, partly because the lady reading it in her inimitable Scottish accent found the story hysterically funny, but also because the book itself was simple, engaging and very cleverly written. The book, published in 2009 (so not 'new' by any stretch of the imagination) soon saw sales skyrocket around the world. Amazon sold out and the publisher had to rush-print another 50, 000 copies with a view to many more. Unwittingly, the person videoing that reading of Wonky Donkey made the world's best kind of book trailer. Though I doubt he/she realised it at the time. If you haven't seen it, it's really worth a view, and  you can see it here: -

Scottish grandmother reading Wonky Donkey

Both these examples are so encouraging for us writers. Even if we don't write books that have people flocking to see the places they were set in, or beamed all over the world on Youtube, we are investing our time and energy in an age-old tradition. And they can add such pleasure to people's lives, that they could be celebrated and enjoyed in ways we would probably never dream of.

(It makes you think, doesn't it? Now what game could I invent for my character? Um, Armpit Snakes and Ladders? Could that be a thing? Other ideas welcome...)

Click on the link to see the novella on amazon

Deborah Jenkins is a freelance writer and school teacher, who has written articles, text books, devotional notes and short stories. She also writes regularly for the TES. She has completed a novella, The Evenness of Things, available as an Amazon e-book and is currently working on a full length novel. Deborah loves hats, trees and small children. After years overseas with her family, who are now grown up, she lives in East Sussex with her husband, a Baptist minister, and a cat called Oliver.
If you enjoy reading educational articles, my writing is here: -


The Evenness of Things - Would you buy a house without telling your husband? As soon as she arrives in Northumberland with her family, Daisy falls in love. The house in Alnwick is near the sea and within reach of the island castle of Lindisfarne. Its honey coloured stone and generous rooms fill her with longing; to be rooted in a beautiful place instead of an ugly vicarage in London with rats and a leaky roof. The holiday is filled with sunshine and a sense of family, a taste of the old life before the tragedy that changes everything. The week is passing and Daisy despairs at the thought of going home so when she stumbles across an advert for the house in an estate agent’s window, she sets in motion a chain of events that soon threaten to overwhelm her completely. But it’s the house, she believes, that will save her…