Picture 2aHave you ever wanted to escape into a story you’re reading or into a beautiful picture you’re viewing?

Come on, be honest. Sometimes fiction is more fun than reality. That’s why we like to read. That’s the premise for my newest book, Dot and Scribble Fall into Adventure. A boy is transported into a picture he is drawing. The excerpt below is the moment when Hudson realizes he has changed into a stick figure character named Scribble.

“What are you doing up there?”

What was he doing up there in his room? He couldn’t quite remember. He had fallen. There was a picture.

If he opened his eyes, everything would be all right. His mother would be mad when she saw the mess, but he could clean it up. Hudson shook his head and cracked his eyes open.

He was outside.

Below, a girl stood with her hands on her hips. “What are you doing up there?” She stomped her foot. “You’re going to fall.”

Hudson rubbed his eyes and looked again at the strange looking stick girl, who definitely was not his mother. Then he looked at his hands—gloves. He stretched out his long arms and clumsy legs through the branches and leaves. He had landed in a tree. Hudson grabbed for anything and held on.

The realization hit him. Somehow, he’d fallen into his own picture. But who was he? What was he?

“You come down here right now, Scribble,” the stick girl ordered.

“Did you just call me Scribble?” Hudson asked.

“Yes, I called you Scribble, and my name is Dot.”

“No way.”

Dot stomped her foot. “You come down, this instant.”

Hudson, now Scribble, shook his head. Was he really a stick boy up a tree? Was he really about to take orders from a bossy stick girl named Dot?

“I’m not gonna fall,” he said.

“I’m warning you.”

“I’m fine,” Scribble said, lifting up his hands.

The next few moments happened too fast for him to react. First, he heard the crack of the limb, and then he was falling to meet the ground.


Dot marched over to meet Scribble who was in a heap on the ground. “You’re broken again,” Dot said. She picked up something and handed it to him. “Look.”

It was his arm. Not only was he a stick boy, but he was a klutz. Scribble shook his head at Dot’s gesture. “That’s my arm? What do I do with that?”