What the guide is
Three questions and one lamp give you a bedtime story made up on the spot.
Who it is for
A grown-up who looks after a child of about three to eight. The book is read and the child wants one more. You'd like to make something up on the spot without feeling daft.
Everything in it is for you to use with the child in front of you. A plain voice and a tired memory are enough.
It is a recipe for stories. It makes no promise about sleep or behaviour, and it sits beside the book on your shelf and does not replace it. If bedtime itself worries you, talk to your health visitor or GP first.
What's inside
Small, Lost, Home runs to four parts, a back section of working pages and five bonuses.
Part One: the three ingredients
Each ingredient gets a page of its own. Every page has a named rule and a worked story, then a space for your own go.
Part Two: seven ways to make it yours
For the week your stories start sounding alike. There's an opener that starts the story early, and a way to hand the ending to your child.
Part Three: the larder
A larder of one hundred and twenty story starters, forty for each ingredient, plus a roll-a-story grid for the nights you want a surprise.
Part Four: our family logbook
Twenty log pages, one story to a page, each with a box for a drawing and a line for what they asked after. A short letter from me sits halfway up, and the last page asks how far you sailed.
Five bonuses
For the nights you have nothing left, and for the ones where you want more.
- The Sixty-Second Story: seven ready-to-tell stories, each under a minute.
- What the Boats Say: a sheet of goodnight sounds for children to make during the story.
- Lost Property of the Sea: ten things that wash up on the slipway, each with a first line.
- When They Ask You a Big Question: six real bedtime questions and the first lines of a made-up answer.
- The Lamp Card: a card for the bedside, the opener on one side and the last line on the other.
A page from the guide
Ingredient 2 of 3, as it appears in the book. The Hat, Not the Shell Rule.
Ingredient 2 of 3 · Something Lost
The Hat, Not the Shell Rule
Lose something that can come back. Never something that can't.
How it works
- Pick the lost thing before you start. Ask one question: could it turn up again by the last line? If the answer's yes, it's in.
- Lose it gently. Nothing in these stories gets snatched or stolen. It rolls off, blows away, gets borrowed, gets left on a bench.
- Let somebody notice, and not mind too much. The small thing doesn't have to be frightened. Puzzled is plenty. "Well, that's odd" is plenty.
Good losses, and what to leave on the quay
| Good losses | Leave these on the quay |
|---|---|
| A hat | A mum, a dad, a nan or a grandad |
| A mitten (the left one) | A pet |
| A whistle | A home, or anything a creature lives in |
| A button | A friend who doesn't come back |
| A shadow | The small thing itself, lost in the dark |
| A hum | Anything that would be gone for good |
| The last biscuit | |
| The way to the shop |
Frank's go
A teaspoon called Pip lived in the drawer by the sink. One Sunday, Pip lost her shine. Not all of it. Only the bit on the end that caught the light.
"Well, that's odd," said Pip.
She looked under the egg cup. She looked behind the bread bin. The fork said he hadn't seen it, and the fork always knows.
Then the evening came, and somebody did the washing up, slow and warm, the way you do on a Sunday. And when Pip came up out of the bubbles and lay down on the tea towel, there it was. Her shine. Right where she'd left it, under a bit of gravy.
Night night.
Watch for
The sad one sneaks in when you're tired. That's when your head grabs the first lost thing it finds, and the first one is nearly always the wrong one. If you hear it coming out, do what I did: stop, say "no, wait", and swap it. A teller's allowed to change his mind halfway. Call it part of the story. It is now.
Your go
My small thing:
What it loses:
Could it turn up again by the last line? [ ] Yes [ ] Not sure, so I'll pick another
How it gets lost (rolls off, blows away, gets borrowed, gets left):
Where it was all along:
Tried it on . They asked:
SMALL, LOST, HOME · FRANK MALLORY · AI CHARACTER
A short letter
A letter from Frank
Evening.
You've done the bath. You've done the teeth. You've read the book, and you've read it again, and now there's a small voice in the dark saying the five words that empty a grown-up's head faster than a dropped bucket: one more, from your head.
And there's nothing there. I know. Plenty of grown-ups reckon they're the only one in the street who can't make up a story. I reckon they're wrong. I reckon nobody ever showed them the recipe.
That's what this is. Three questions: what's small, what's lost, and how does it get home. Answer them out loud and you've told a story nobody else in the world has heard. It won't be a good one every night. Mine weren't. It'll be yours, though, and that's the bit that counts.
Before we start, two honest things.
First, I'm not a real person. I'm an AI character: a made-up old skipper with a made-up harbour, a navy jumper and a lot of opinions about lighthouses. The recipe's plain enough to try tonight, and you can judge it for yourself.
Second, the book comes first. Always. Read the book. Then, if they want one more, this is for that. It doesn't replace a single page on your shelf. It's what happens after the last one.
At the back there's a logbook. Write your stories down, even the rubbish ones. Especially the rubbish ones. Fill enough pages and you'll have a book of your own, with your family's name on it, not mine.
Right. Glasses down.
Lamp's on, boots off. Here's tonight's.
Frank
Price and delivery
- Price
- £12.00, paid once
- Format
- A4 PDF, to read on a screen or print at home
- Delivery
- The download link appears on screen straight after you pay. It lasts seven days, so save the PDF.
- Checkout
- You pay on Stripe's own checkout page.
Questions
Are you a real person?
No. I'm an AI character. My harbour, my boat and my navy jumper are made up, and so are the stories. The recipe is original.
Can we skip a night?
Skip a night or skip a week. I call it the Tide Rule: the tide doesn't come back for yesterday, so you tell tonight's.
Will it send my child to sleep?
I make no promise about sleep or behaviour. It is a recipe for making up stories, and what a story does for your child is between you and them.
Can I print it?
It is an A4 PDF. The logbook, the one-page recipe and the Lamp Card are made for printing.
From the same people
This account is run by the people behind Ben's Book Boutique, so the shop link below is an advert for our own business.
The small print
Frank Mallory is an AI character. He is not a real person or a real skipper, and his harbour is made up. The stories and the recipe are original. This guide gives no sleep or parenting advice and takes the place of no book on your shelf.