







Two winters ago I was told a story by a friend of mine. A true story, about an episode from his childhood he’d never mentioned before.

‘I met David Bowie once. It was in London, it was Christmas, and I’d won a competition. We sang a song together…’ ‘I met David Bowie once. It was in London, it was Christmas, and I’d won a competition. We sang a song together…’

It was a magical encounter, and I didn’t stop quizzing my friend until he gave me all the details, and then said he didn’t mind if wrote an account of it for my blog. It was a magical encounter, and I didn’t stop quizzing my friend until he gave me all the details, and then said he didn’t mind if wrote an account of it for my blog.

It was story I knew that people would love: the tale of the shy, clever, autistic boy and how he met David Bowie, who was kind to him, and as magical as anyone could hope for. And who told him about the wearing of invisible masks… It was story I knew that people would love: the tale of the shy, clever, autistic boy and how he met David Bowie, who was kind to him, and as magical as anyone could hope for. And who told him about the wearing of invisible masks…

I wrote a short piece about it and, within twenty minutes of posting it on my blog, it had gone viral. Somehow it had been noticed by people. David Bowie’s widow retweeted it with hearts, and so did his son. And then, suddenly, thousands and tens of thousands and then hundreds of thousands of fans were retweeting it. It made them remember how wonderful Bowie was: and they were pleased to hear that he was magical in real life, when you got as close to him as the character in my true-life story. I wrote a short piece about it and, within twenty minutes of posting it on my blog, it had gone viral. Somehow it had been noticed by people. David Bowie’s widow retweeted it with hearts, and so did his son. And then, suddenly, thousands and tens of thousands and then hundreds of thousands of fans were retweeting it. It made them remember how wonderful Bowie was: and they were pleased to hear that he was magical in real life, when you got as close to him as the character in my true-life story.

By the end of that day a huge number of people had read and shared that blog piece. Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman tweeted it at each other, almost simultaneously, and all their followers went on to read it.

It was like having David back – just for a moment. That’s what some people said to me. And that was true for me, too. I’d had a second-hand glimpse of that scene from back in 1987… but somehow the words that were spoken back then came to me very clearly. I felt like I was eavesdropping on the past. The expanded version of the tale that I started writing as soon as I posted the original piece felt very much as if it was writing itself.

I had to write an expanded version because my friend – delighted and mystified by all the attention his memory was getting – had carried on talking to me, and he gave me further details. He told me more about the Christmassiness of the whole scene, the snow and the crowded streets of London, and how the film showing took place in some old Victorian school, closed for the holidays. He told me that the Jim Henson puppeteers were there, with the actual characters from ‘Labyrinth’, and they came to life in that school hall, entertaining the competition winners until the star guest strolled in.

Many more details: what David was wearing, even how he smelled (like ice cream, said my friend.) I learned about the small side room where they played piano together, and where David knew that the boy and his chaperone relative would feel happier, rather than among the hurly burly of all the other children.

I spent a week hammering this material into what I felt straight away was the best short story I’d ever written. I tinkered and shaped it like Bowie worked on the magic dust in the air, when he fashioned it into his mask.

When I had my story finished ‘Stardust and Snow’ slotted perfectly into place as my title.

I’d always wanted to write a Christmas story. I have dreamed of writing something that could be taken down from the shelf once a year and read with great, nostalgic pleasure. For me, it’s Truman Caopte’s ‘A Christmas Memory’ and Dylan Thomas’ ‘A Child’s Christmas in Wales’ and the most wonderful moments from John Masefield’s ‘The Box of Delights.’ Or Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The Fir Tree’, or the festive chapter from ‘Wind in the Willows.’ Something like that would do for me! Something that readers could take out each year with as much joy as they brought out old boxes of treasured tinsel and decorations…

I tried out my new story on friends and other writers I knew. As the days went on their reactions came back, and people really loved it. They felt touched by the magic it described. People sat still in the middle of their busy days to give it their attention, and that, in turn, touched me. What was more, I got lovely quotes from people that could accompany the book as it went to editors and others involved in the world of publishing.

Well, the story went out into the world – and some people got it, and some didn’t. Some thought it too short, some thought it too long. Was it fiction or non-fiction? Was it for adults or children..?

And yet to me all the answers to those questions were easy: it’s exactly the length of story it ought to be. It’s true in the way that fairy tales are always deeply, magically true. And it’s for everyone, no matter who or what or how old they are.

Most readers felt as if they were meeting a wonderful Wizard at Christmas and watching him do magic, just for you. That’s how the child in the story feels, and that’s the feeling people take away. David Bowie is more than just a rock star – he’s a mythic figure. He’s a pagan spirit of midwinter in this story. He’s Jack Frost. He’s a beguiling Christmas Elf. He’s here and gone in a twinkling of a green wizard’s eye.

Last Christmas I made a tiny edition of the story, just to give out to a select few friends. I sent it like I would normally send out Christmas cards.

This year however, Obverse is making my story public. It’s coming out as a perfect little hardback in time for Christmas.

Just in time for every Christmas in the future.

I hope that each time it’s opened up by the people who buy it, or the people who receive it as a gift, it’ll send out a little shower of stardust that will remind you of the first time you read it, or the first time you heard it, or the time you bought your first David Bowie record, or the time you met someone you always wanted to be wonderful… and that’s exactly how they turned out to be.

That’s the feeling I want this little book to hold for people.

And now that it’s ready to go out into the world – courtesy of the wonderful Obverse Books – I look forward to hearing just how Christmassy and stardusty it makes you feel.









Paul Magrs, October 2019.

















What People have said about Stardust & Snow

‘I think that’s beautiful. That’s absolutely lovely. What an amazing story. Ah, it’s gorgeous, well done.’ – Russell T Davies

‘I defy anyone to read the first page of this and not finish it. ANYONE.’ – Horatio Clare

‘A perfect Christmas story, filled with magic, wonder and Stardust…’ – Cathy Cassidy.

‘If you’ve ever loved a person, either someone you knew in real life or someone world famous, you’ll know nothing brings more joy than hearing a wonderful story about them after they have died. And this is one of the most wonderful stories you could wish for. It will lighten and brighten the hearts of everyone who reads it.’ – Jill Mansell.

‘The perfect Christmas story: snow is in the air, (Grandma) doesn’t understand, and one of our greatest heroes is about to step off the screen and tell a little boy the secret of everything. Absolutely gorgeous, achingly beautiful and astonishingly enough, completely true. Once you’ve read this, you really will know the secret of everything.’ – Steven Moffat.

‘This story might make you cry. It’s so inspiring and beautiful and also very sad at the same time’ – Amanda Palmer.

‘It’s from my friend Paul Magrs and I love it so much’ – Neil Gaiman

‘A lovely story, just heart rending and beautifully told; and 30 minutes with Bowie!’ – Tom Baker

‘Enlarging an anecdote told to him by a friend many years after the event, Paul Magrs has turned a brush with greatness – an autistic boy meets David Bowie – into a poignant and touching story of a life transformed. Through the authentic voice of the young boy, misunderstood and brusquely treated by his self-centred mother, the encounter shows that Bowie was generously gifted with emotional intelligence long before the term was invented.’ – Linda Newbery

‘Of all the many tales of David Bowie’s kindness, compassion and humanity, this true story, beautifully told by Paul Magrs, might just be the most magical.’ – Nicholas Pegg, author of ‘The Complete David Bowie.’

‘Beautiful and bitter sweet – Paul Magrs tells a story of nostalgia and magic that turns the world on its head and makes your heart feel that little bit warmer’ – Robert Shearman.

‘Waiting for a train

It’s delayed and delayed and delayed

I remembered to read your Bowie story

Now I don’t care about the train

Gave me goose pimples

Beautiful

Never dreamed I’d read a story where mime skills seemed like magic!!!’ – Frank Cottrell Boyce

‘Paul Magrs weaves gentle magic into this heart-warming tale of an autistic boy’s enchanting meeting with the Goblin King himself – David Bowie.’ – Miranda James.

‘A treat. A touching, offbeat tale full of music and magic. A true pleasure to read.’ – Edward Kelsey Moore.

‘Absolutely lovely. As a huge Bowie fan and a child who had her own issues, Bowie was my saviour more than once. This story really touched my heart. I just loved it.’ – Nina Sankovitch.

‘This is my kind of story. It shows kindness in the face of bullying, is rich with a sense of wonder, and it filled my heart with a deep, deep joy.’ – Charles de Lint



