Writing for the Childlike

Evan Swensen
April 14, 2025

“I write, not for children, but for the childlike, whether of five, fifty, or seventy-five.”
—George MacDonald

Some writers chase trends. Others chase truth. George MacDonald, the Scottish author, poet, and minister, quietly did something harder: he wrote for the soul. That quote—one that continues to echo in the world of storytelling—offers more than clever phrasing. It opens a window into a man who believed the best stories reach the most receptive hearts, and those hearts are often found in the childlike rather than the worldly-wise.

MacDonald’s influence runs deeper than footnotes in literary history. Though he’s often associated with children’s literature, MacDonald didn’t set out to amuse the young. He sought to awaken wonder. His work reveals a man who believed deeply in the transforming power of imagination, and the ability of story to soften the hardest lives and reshape the most rigid minds.

A Life Touched by Hardship

MacDonald was no stranger to sorrow. Born in Aberdeenshire in 1824, he lost his mother to tuberculosis when he was just eight years old. It was the kind of loss that doesn’t get written out of a child—it gets written into everything they later create. His father, a strict Calvinist, instilled in him a religious framework. Still, George found little comfort in the austere doctrine of predestination and eternal damnation that dominated Scottish Christianity at the time.

As a young man, MacDonald wrestled with poor health and financial instability. He took a post as a Congregationalist minister, but his compassionate theology—emphasizing a loving, forgiving God—was considered dangerously liberal. After only a few years, he was asked to resign. One might expect disillusionment, maybe silence. Instead, MacDonald turned to writing.

And he wrote with fierce hope.

He poured that same compassion into his novels and fairy tales, offering spiritual nourishment cloaked in fantasy, not the moral lectures expected of Victorian literature. In Phantastes (1858), he crafted a dreamlike world that left a lasting impression on C.S. Lewis, who discovered the book at age sixteen and later credited MacDonald as his literary master.

Father, Teacher, Friend

Later in life, MacDonald and his wife Louisa had eleven children, four of whom died in infancy or childhood. Yet he remained grounded in faith and grace. He didn’t flinch from grief but found ways to console others through his art.

He wasn’t merely a man of letters but a friend to other literary giants. Lewis Carroll, author of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, turned to MacDonald for feedback on the manuscript. MacDonald read it to his children, who were delighted with it, giving Carroll the confidence to publish. Charles Kingsley and John Ruskin also admired his work, and his literary circle became a quiet force for good—writers, uplifting writers, each nudging the next toward greatness.

That sense of kinship and mentorship reminds us that writers don’t need to walk alone. Their work creates ripples, and their encouragement plants seeds.

A Voice Ahead of Its Time

MacDonald’s fiction invited readers to reconsider the harsh edges of Victorian theology. In books like The Princess and the Goblin and Lilith, he offered female protagonists with strength and agency, a rarity in literature of the time. Long before it was mainstream, his fantasy work planted seeds for what would become modern mythopoeia, the literary creation of imagined worlds rich in moral vision.

He inspired C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Madeleine L’Engle, and G.K. Chesterton. His themes—love over fear, grace over judgment, and mystery over certainty—reshaped how later generations would view fiction and faith.

In a culture obsessed with reason, he dared to honor imagination. In an age of dogma, he defended wonder.

Why MacDonald Still Matters

George MacDonald’s stories were not created to be consumed—they were meant to be lived through. They continue to whisper truths that modern readers still need to hear: that kindness is strength, that faith is not blindness, and that stories aren’t escapism—they’re maps back to the things that matter most.

He didn’t preach. He invited.

And readers followed.

MacDonald’s words—soft-spoken yet firm—echo in the work of today’s storytellers who dare to blend beauty with conviction. His literary descendants have shaped movies, children’s literature, theology, and fantasy. He wrote not to impress critics or chase fads, but to reach those who still carry wonder in their hearts. Even now, over a century after his death, readers keep finding themselves in his pages—finding not answers, necessarily, but rest.

Write for the Childlike

Writers today are bombarded with metrics: likes, follows, and reviews. George MacDonald never had those. What he had was vision. A commitment to writing that speaks to the childlike—the ones who haven’t given up on goodness, who still cry at beauty, who still look for stars on cloudy nights.

That’s who he wrote for.

And that’s who you can write for, too.

So, open The Princess and Curdie. Revisit Phantastes. Let them remind you that writing, at its best, doesn’t just entertain. It heals. It lifts. It changes the world by changing the hearts willing to listen.

Write not for markets but for meaning. Not for children but for the childlike.

They’re waiting.

MacDonald’s kinship and mentorship with other authors remind us that writers don’t need to walk alone. Their work creates ripples, and their encouragement plants seeds. Author Masterminds is a community of authors who understand that stories shape minds, shift perspectives, and change the world. Authors dedicated not to blend in, but to stand out. If you’re serious about writing, refining your craft, and reaching readers who genuinely connect with your words, this is where you belong.

Go here: https://bit.ly/4k6lvg1 if you’d like to learn more about Author Masterminds.