Good Food for the Imagination

I was sitting at my desk the other night, staring at a real life hardback of The Stolen Necklace — Book 3 of The Adventures of Bo and Mr. Quillery — and I had this moment where I just. . . stopped.

Not because something was wrong. Because something was right.

And I realized I almost missed it.

See, I'm not great at celebrating. I'll be the first to admit that. I'm the guy who finishes a project and immediately starts thinking about the next one. Erin (my wife) will tell you — she's had to physically sit me down before and say, "Kody, can we just enjoy this for a second?" (She's right. She's always right about that.)

So this letter is me practicing something I wish I were better at. Stopping. Taking a breath. And saying thank you — to you, for being along for this ride. For reading these emails. For trusting me with your family's bookshelf. That means more than I can properly put into words.

Book 3 — The Stolen Necklace — releases April 21st. Mark your calendar. I'll say it again: April 21st.

But before I tell you about the story, I want to remind you all of a large reason why I write these stories. Because in the quiet moments — the ones where I'm not thinking about launch dates or marketing — there's a deeper thing driving all of this.

I believe the imagination is not a throwaway thing. It's not just "fun." It's the faculty God gave children to dream about what could be. To picture courage before they need it. To rehearse kindness before the moment demands it. To see the difference between light and shadow while they're still young enough to choose which one they'll walk toward.

And here's what haunts me a little: we are handing this generation more content than any generation in human history. . . and so little of it actually builds something inside of them. A study out of Ohio State found that kids who are read to regularly hear millions more words by the time they turn five. But more than vocabulary, research from the University of York found that reading — more than screens, more than passive media — is what activates a child's ability to imagine. To mentally picture a world, a character, a possibility that doesn't yet exist.

That capacity is being dulled. And fewer parents are reading aloud to their kids than a decade ago.

This isn't a guilt trip. I'm a parent too. Screens happen. Grace abounds. But it's the question that sits with me at that desk late at night: what kind of food are we giving their imaginations?

That's what I mean when I talk about righteous imagination. It's the intentional act of filling a child's mind with stories where good is distinct, bravery is a virtue, and the imagination is used to serve others and seek truth. C.S. Lewis said it better than I ever could — he believed that fairy stories don't create fear in children. What fairy stories do is give children a framework for conquering that fear.

I believe that with my whole heart. And it's a large reason The Stolen Necklace exists.

Here's something I find both humbling and a little terrifying about writing fiction: the things I'm wrestling with personally sometimes find their way into the plot.

I didn't plan it that way. But looking back at this book, I can see it clearly.

The Stolen Necklace deals with forgiveness. With the weight of a mistake you can't take back. With the slow, painful road of letting someone you love see you at your worst — and discovering that love doesn't leave when you fail.

Mr. Quillery & the Sheriff Force make a real mistake in this story. Not a cute one. A costly one. And the journey back from that mistake is the beating heart of the book. All wrapped up in an early chapter book.

I'll be honest with you — forgiveness is something I'm still learning. Specifically, forgiving myself. I tend to carry things longer than I should. I replay the moments I wish I'd handled differently. I hold the weight of what I think I should have been instead of resting in who God says I already am.

And somehow. . . that wrestle showed up in Mr. Quillery's story. In Darlin's response to him. In the way grace operates in the Riverdill Lands — not as something earned, but as something freely given when you least deserve it.

I personally try to keep my own process of sanctification out of children's books for the most part. But sometimes God has other plans when you wait on him for inspiration instead of just manufacturing content. He has a way of weaving Himself into the work. The themes of the Kingdom of Heaven — redemption, mercy, justice, sacrificial love — they show up not because I forced them in but because that's the water I'm swimming in and how BIG he is.

That's the food I want to put on the table for their imaginations. Not just "fun for the family" — but a story where your children can see the aspects of the Kingdom on display, even at a young age. A story where a character falls, and grace catches him. Where bravery isn't the absence of fear but the decision to do what's right anyway. Where friendship costs something and is worth every bit of it.

And there's something else tucked inside this one that I'm genuinely excited about.

I developed a card game that's directly woven into the plot of Book 3. It's not a side product or an afterthought — it's part of the story itself. Your kids will read about it in the pages, and then they can actually play it at home with your family. You can find the instructions on my website once you grab your copy. I've been playing it with my own kids and. . . it's a blast. Fair warning — my eight-year-old is ruthless.

BUT let me come back to that moment at my desk. The one where I stopped.

Three books. Three stories born out of real animals, real prayer, and a daughter's whisper at bedtime: "Daddy, you have to tell other children about Bo and Mr. Quillery."

What started in the middle of a pandemic, on a farm in Waco, Texas — with a stray Great Pyrenees and a quirky little quail — has become something I believe will stand the test of time. Not because of me. Because of God.

If you've read Book 1 or Book 2 to your kids, thank you. If you've shared the series with a friend, thank you. If you've just been here — reading these emails, following along, cheering this thing on from wherever you are — thank you. I don't take a single one of you for granted.

This story is a prayer. And every family that picks it up becomes part of the answer.

Here's What I'd Love From You

Mark your calendar: April 21st, 2026. That's the day The Stolen Necklace goes live. I would be honored if your family was among the first to read it.

Follow me on Instagram — I've got giveaways (FREE YOTOs) happening this week leading up to launch. Free books, some surprises, and a chance to be part of the community that's growing around Bo and Mr. Quillery. Find me there and stay close. You won't want to miss it.

And if this blog stirred something in you — if you know a parent who's been looking for books they don't have to worry about, stories that actually build something good inside their children — would you share it with them? Forward this blog. Send them the link. Plant the seed.

A great children's book is like a seed — plant it now, and virtues grow for a lifetime.

I'll see you on April 21st.

Joyfully,

Andrew K. Johnston

P.S. — If you haven't started the series yet, Book 1 and Book 2 are available now. The audiobook for Book 1 is free at the link in my bio on Instagram. Start there. I think you'll see very quickly why families are falling in love with the Riverdill Lands.