Why the theme Lucia makes a good book
An adventure that suits the child
Lucia may be the most Swedish of all celebrations, and it belongs largely to the children. On 13 December it's children who walk in the procession with candles in their hands, children who sing in the half-dark at nursery while the grown-ups hold their phones at the ready. Walking in a Lucia procession is both big and nerve-racking – remembering the words, holding the candle straight, keeping in step. A book where your child walks in the procession lets them rehearse and feel the pride in advance. It also holds all the softness of December: the dark, the candles, saffron and gingerbread.
From saffron buns to the procession
A Lucia book can begin the day before, with dough rising and saffron turning fingers yellow – the golden S-shaped buns are as much a part of the day as the candles. The child can try on the costume, practise the song in front of the mirror, lose the crown and find it again. Then comes the morning in the dark, the procession walking in and the light spreading through the room. Gingerbread biscuits shaped like hearts and pigs, frost on the windows and warm squash in little cups can fill the rest of the pictures.
The story can turn magical, too – a light that shows the way through a snowy forest, a village that has been dark for so long everyone has forgotten what light looks like. The saffron buns can have a chapter of their own, or a whole book about baking.
Lucia, attendant or star boy
A Lucia procession has many parts: Lucia herself with a crown of candles, attendants holding candles, star boys in tall paper hats carrying star wands, little elves and gingerbread figures. Whichever part your child plays can be in the story, and any child at all can be Lucia.
Write in where the procession takes place – at nursery, at school, in a church or at home by a bedside – which song your child likes best and who is watching. Brothers, sisters and friends can walk in the procession in the pictures. If your child is nervous about singing in front of others, the story can let them start at the very back and then, on the last page, step forward.
Light in the long night
Lucia is celebrated on 13 December in Sweden and across much of the Nordic region. Under the old calendar once used in Sweden, the night before Lucia was thought to be the longest of the year, and light in the darkness is still what the day is about.
For small children the book can be a gentle string of candles and song. At nursery age it becomes a dress rehearsal for the procession. Older children can manage an adventure in which the light has disappeared and someone has to bring it back. Afterwards, try reading the book with every lamp switched off and just one candle lit.
Your child is the hero
You fill in the child's name, age and what they like, and upload a photo. The story about Lucia is written for your very own child, and the thirteen pictures and the cover are drawn from the photo in the style you choose. Brothers and sisters, parents, grandparents or the pet can come along, up to five characters. If you would like to include something that has happened lately, a trip or a lost tooth, just write it and it is woven in.
From eBook to hardback book
The eBook is ready a few minutes after payment. Read it, change the text and ask for new pictures until you are happy. Then order it as an A4 hardback book, printed and sent to your door, or straight to the child as a gift. Do add the colouring pages. Start creating the book or read more about the prices. Would you like to see a finished book before you decide? Browse our example books.
How the story could begin
It's so early that it's still night. The hall floor at nursery is cold through your socks, and the white gown is so long it trails a little behind you. Someone ties a red ribbon round your waist, someone else puts tinsel in your hair. The candle in your hand runs on a battery, but its flame flickers almost like a real one. Behind the door you hear chairs scraping and someone coughing. Everyone is sitting in there, waiting. You hear the room go quiet. Then the piano plays the first notes, and the door swings open. You take a step into the dark. And at that very moment the candle in your hand goes out. Not just yours – every candle in the whole procession, all at once. It's pitch black. And somewhere at the very front, where nobody is supposed to be standing, another light comes on.










