Six years ago, my son returned from a trip to New Zealand with a suspiciously quiet carry-on item. Nestled in his bag was a white ceramic gnome with a glint in his eye — or maybe that was just my imagination (gnomes are good at that).
He arrived starkly bare (well, in gnome terms — unpainted), wearing nothing but a fantastic golden hat, bold possibilities, and a rather smug beard. The only thing he demanded was a display place, so he moved into my entertainment center, where he sat silently for six years under my cat’s watchful, judgy eyes.
Little did I know this pint-sized ambassador from a gloriously foreign realm would become the muse for my latest book, The Gnome with the Golden Hat. Oh, not at first — it happened in stages, the way great things often do. It all started when I finally decided to paint him last month.
It’s proof that inspiration doesn’t always arrive as a sweeping revelation. Sometimes it shows up wrapped in bubble wrap, carrying the faint scent of adventure — then takes its sweet time, sitting around for years before finally revealing the story it had tucked away all along.
So if you’re curious how a silent garden ornament ended up at the heart of a whimsical tale (and maybe stirred up a bit of gnome politics along the way), you can now find The Gnome with the Golden Hat in print and ebook on Amazon. Because every golden hat deserves its legend.
