In June this year my daughter has asked if we can turn a story she invented when she was three into a proper book as a lockdown project.

I said yes.

Why?

Because when your children ask you if something is possible, and it is, you should say yes - and then show them how to get there.

Because she is my daughter - who I will always do my best for and by.

Because she is my daughter - and I will strive to live up to the person she needs me to be.

The Magic Blanket stories began as a way for us to squeeze ten more minutes of time together after lights out.

After bedtime stories, after tucking in, after lights out, after ‘tiny, tiny’, my daughter would start telling me a story, knowing that I’d then come back into the room and sit on her bed to listen. At the time, I loved it. I loved spending time with my children. I couldn’t wait for them to wake up in the morning so we got spend more time together. I still feel like that. So why wouldn’t I choose to spend ten more minutes with them at any time? Right now, we’re eight months into lockdown; and it’s been eight months since we’ve seen each other in the flesh. It’s likely to be far longer, not least because my underlying condition means I will have to shield for longer than most. We’ve done our best. She asked if I’d write her a letter a day while it went on (so far, so good); we’ve stayed in busy with shared lockdown projects; and we’ve stayed in touch by ramping up the screen time. But eight months in after we rarely spent more than five minutes apart, those moments onscreen feel like sips of water to people lost in a desert.

Being apart from my children will never feel normal - to me or them.

I’ve always told my daughters that I wouldn’t swap them for all of the gold in the world.

Right now, the memories of those extra ten minutes at bedtime are now more precious to me than diamonds would be.

So, let’s figure out how to do this, and let’s do it.

©℗ A. I. Jackson

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The first Origin(al) Stories Journal was a blog launched to track the nine months that went into the writing and recording of the Northumbria album. You can read about the thought processes behind that here.

Following the launch of The Landing Stage website, I’ve decided to continue with the Origin(al) Stories posts.

The Landing Stage showcases some of the things I do.

The Origin(al) Stories posts show some of the thoughts and processes and activities that go into those acts of doing.

Drawn from my personal diaries and journals, the posts might often seem unconnected, elliptical and fragmentary.

This is because the Origin(al) Stories blog doesn’t offer the definitive conclusions, hacks, lists or ‘how to …’ advice beloved of Youtube gurus, bro-science and self-help manuals.

This is because there’s no one road through the forest, no one route to the top of the mountain, no one path to where you want to be and what you want to do.

The Origin(al) stories only shows how I’ve found a path through to doing something.

The path always has to give you as much as the destination.

They are, as I noted in the original post about it, postcards from the journey. Snapshots of work in progress - which is what all lives and endeavours are.

If you’ve liked an Origin(al) Stories post, or it’s helped you with something you’re doing in some way, please share it to your socials, and give credit. All content on this website is under copyright and attributable.

If you’d like to listen to Northumbria, download it here.

If you’d like to listen to Alnwyck Jameson Badger, download it here.

If you’d like to listen to Broken Oars Podcast, download it here.

Thanks for reading. Have a great day. Tell the people you love that you love them. Be a positive force.