Write about your family, Write about the talking Whale.
The one that is trapped in your imagination, desperate to get out.
J.M. Barrie: Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to shatter those dreams by saying he's *just* a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That's like saying, "He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man", or "That's not a diamond, it's just a rock." Just.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: It's just, I thought she'd always be here.
J.M. Barrie: So did I. But in fact, she is, because she's on every page of your imagination. You'll always have her there. Always.
Peter Llewelyn Davies: But why did she have to die?
J.M. Barrie: I don't know, Peter. When I think of your mother, I will always remember how happy she looked, sitting there in the parlor watching a play about her family, about her boys that never grew up. She went to Neverland. And you can visit her any time you like if you just go there yourself.