Always on
This project successfully funded on 23rd March 2026, you can still support them with a donation.
This project successfully funded on 23rd March 2026, you can still support them with a donation.
To fund The Angry Unicorn — a hand-drawn tale of a unicorn, a tree, monsters, cats and a hat exploring grief, identity and friendship.

My name is Fox.
And this is a story about a unicorn, a tree, nine monsters, eight cats and a hat.
I wrote The Angry Unicorn during a time when my world had gone quiet — waiting for surgery, grieving, watching the winter trees in Queens Park. Wondering what happens when you freeze time just to survive.
In the book, a unicorn hides in a bubble with its friend Tree while centuries pass and colour drains away… until monsters shaped from memories of my nieces and nephews burst in and force the unicorn to face what it means to be seen again.
At its heart, this is a story about grief, identity, hiding — and the courage it takes to return.
It asks whether you should just become a horse, be like the rest… or whether being yourself is the real test.
I’m raising funds to finalise the design, get in some experts, print the first edition, and bring this book into as many hands, paws, and hoofs as possible.
If you’ve ever disappeared so well you forgot the shape of yourself…
This story is for you.

A unicorn and a tree sit in a bubble, waiting for the end of time.
The tree is fading.
The world moves on without them.
Centuries pass.
Colour bleeds out.
Their whole world turns grey…
Until nine monsters arrive —

Bursting the unicorn's bubble, who then has to confront the things they’ve been avoiding:
Grief, identity, loneliness and the danger of being seen in a world that doesn’t always feel safe.
They must decide what to hold on to. To let go of. To fight for.
Should they just become a horse? Be just like the rest?
Or is being yourself the real test?

Many young people and adults are walking around with bubbles they’ve built to survive grief, trauma or identity struggles. Many feel unseen, unsafe, or unsure how to return to colour. The Angry Unicorn offers a gentle, strange way to explore those feelings without naming them directly.

It holds space for grief, neurodiversity, identity, belonging, and the complex relationship between safety and visibility. It is written in language accessible to young people, but layered enough that adults can recognise themselves in it too. The book is filled with symbols, inclusive elements, cultural references and thought bubbles that let readers of different ages find their own meaning.
It is ultimately about survival, connection, and the courage to come back into the world.

The Angry Unicorn was a character I created as the starting point to make a show with a youth theatre. When the pandemic cancelled the production, the character stayed with me. It felt raw and personal, so I spent a lot of time thinking about it.
Why is the Unicorn angry? Why don’t they want to be seen?
At the time, I didn’t realise why they felt so familiar.

Later, I understood:
I, and so many people struggling with identity, grief, neurodivergence and uncertainty, were that unicorn.
I wrote most of this book sitting beside Queens Park in Glasgow during lockdown. I wasn’t very mobile then — waiting for surgery, grieving and struggling.
I’d watch the trees wither through winter and wondered:
What happens if we freeze time before the last leaf dropped?
What happens when we hold on so tight to a fragment, a memory, a trauma or an image of something? Does the whole world disappear, or is it we who go missing?
Who do we become when we’re hidden long enough to forget the shape of ourselves, and is it worth it if we feel safe? Do we even have a choice?
A friend once told me their best friend as a child was an imaginary tree. Somehow that stuck, too. So the unicorn wasn’t alone. Tree — loyal, ancient, fading — and the bubble of stillness formed around them both.
And like the unicorn, I was missing people. My nine nieces and nephews, who inspired each of the monster characters, with their laughter, chaos, and growing up without me. Most of whom I wouldn't see for a long time or ever again.
Writing the monsters became a way of holding them close without being physically near. Each monster carries a shape based on their personalities or a moment I remembered. It’s a constellation of the people I love, rendered strange and tender.
This story didn’t just come from mythology, but from resonance — the feeling of coming out the other side of a darker period, of finally finding the courage to be seen again,
and wanting this book to be seen too.

I taught myself to draw and hand-drew the very first version of this book: every page, every line, every monster.
And then I lost it.
Left it on a bus.
Never got it back.

At the time, it felt catastrophic. Like losing a little cathartic world I’d built to help survive.
Then, during another dark period, withdrawing again, facing surgery again — I realised the only way forward was through.
So I started over from scratch.
Both with myself and with the book. Breathing new layers and some better skills into it.

A new book, but the same heart.
Then, with that, I began to become a bit more of myself, finally—a new name and a fresh start as well.
I wanted to tell you all that because the act of remaking is built into this book's DNA.
It’s about the courage it takes to return. I poured my full cup into this and left with presents. Now I’d like to give it to you.

A New Path: Youth Theatre Legacy Work
A massive amount of labour, imagination and care goes into the making of youth theatre. This project asks how that labour might be honoured beyond a single performance or a handful of photographs. By documenting the adaptation process from workshop to page, The Angry Unicorn aims to offer a template that other artists and organisations can adapt for their own legacy projects.
One of the core ideas behind this project is creating a best-practice model for turning youth theatre shows into picture books — a legacy that doesn’t disappear after one performance or a single end-of-term sharing.
So much labour, creativity and emotional investment go into shows young people make — often seen only once.
This project asks: What if we kept those stories alive in other forms? I aim to document and share this process with youth theatres, practitioners and organisations, offering a blueprint for turning performance into print.
One of the ambitions of this project is to create a best-practice model for translating youth theatre shows into picture books and illustrated texts – extending the life of work that is often only seen once at the end of a term.

Rewards
• £10 — Discounted first-edition copy of The Angry Unicorn (supporters receive the book before general release) for unemployed, disabled and students.
• £15 — First-edition copy of The Angry Unicorn (supporters receive the book before general release).
• £30 — Signed first-edition copy + set of stickers and a bookmark.
• £50 — The book + a hand-drawn monster sketch, unique to you.
• £75 — The book + a hand-drawn monster sketch, unique to you, a bookmark, stickers and a tote bag.
• £150 — Online reading and Q&A for your group, plus two signed copies.
• £300 — In-person reading in Scotland (travel by agreement) + a small bundle of books and goodies.
This book began when I didn’t feel seen.
Now that I’m learning to step into my life with a new name, a new body, a clearer sense of self -
I want to offer that courage back into the world.
If you’ve ever hidden, ever grieved, ever wondered who you are when someone finally sees you —
then The Angry Unicorn is for you.
Help me bring it into the world.
If you want to find out a bit more about me as an artist, you can here - https://foxbanks.art/, or if you want to contact me directly, you can do so via Instagram.

Creative Scotland Crowdmatch has provided £3,500 of match funding
Funding method
Keep what you raise – this project will receive all pledges made