The Physics of Words - Andrew Strong

Don’t you love words? I love words. I love words so much I use them all the time.  My favourite words are slippage, anthracite and funicular. Although that’s only what sprung to mind when I wrote the last sentence. Dennis Potter’s Singing Detective’s favourite word was elbow from whence the band got its name.

Elbow is a good word. It seems to suggest the joint in two ways. First, of course, there is the ‘L’ – no doubt where the word came from in the first place, but there’s also the sense of second syllable going off at an angle to the first.  Or maybe you don’t see that.  Maybe it’s just me.

With so many to choose from it’s really quite ridiculous to say that any one word is your favourite, but, come on, we all have them.  When I was young my favourite word was ‘adapter’.  I have no idea why.  More recently I’ve come to fancy Blorenge, the only word I know that rhymes with orange.  (The Blorenge is a mountain in South Wales.)

I like words for their sounds, for what they suggest, as well as what they mean.  I also enjoy the hidden poetry of words.  I love the metaphor grasp – as in to grasp an idea – there are so many connotations, grasping on to a branch of a tree, a baby grasping a parent’s finger, and the hidden gasp when the grasp is released, or when the idea is grasped.

I adore words, and sentences, for their rhythms and textures, as in Manley Hopkins’ Pied Beauty:

Glory be to God for dappled things –

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chesnut falls; finches wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow and plough

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

But when I read Steven Pinker’s utterly wonderful book The Stuff of Thought I realised there was an element of language that revealed something of the world I had never considered.

Why do we talk about things being underwater when they are in water?  Or underground when they are in the ground? Do we describe ourselves as being ‘under the air’?  The words refer to surfaces, of course, not substances.  Ultimately, Pinker suggests, the way we use words has something to do with physics.

Why can we say he poured water into the jug but not the jug was poured with water?  We can say he daubed paint on the wall and the wall was daubed with paint. So why is the daubed sentence interchangeable, but not poured? 

Physics, says Pinker. It’s physics.  Verbs that describe something coming into contact with something else (e.g. daub) are more flexible than verbs that involve the work of gravity (pour). Because gravity goes only one way.  Pinker suggests that words and syntax have a logic of which most of us are unaware. 

  

When we read our brains are subject to a huge variety of conscious and unconscious messages and patterns.  Pinker has shown that syntax can describe the world in he same way that Freud revealed how words can betray our thoughts.  Words can contain everything from the fizz and spill of our synapses to the music of the spheres, and we, as writers, or our readers, may not be aware of a fraction of what is going on.  It’s all pretty miraculous, don’t you think?

To Plot or Not To Plot - Tamsyn Murray

I'm at that most exciting of writing moments - the start of a new book. I have the usual mix of anticipation and nervousness which accompanies a blank page and a zero word count but this time, I have something else - dread. A deep-seated worry that the book I've had nagging at me for more than nine months is too complex, too demanding and utterly beyond my skills as a writer. Now, I know what you're thinking - we all get that. But this time, the feeling that I can't do the story justice is so strong that I can't dismiss it with Haribo and hard work. So I'm doing the only thing I can: plotting it so much that I know every scene inside and out.

Bad Reviews Ahead...

There are obvious advantages to this approach - I should have the writing equivalent of SatNav to ensure I don't get lost en route to The End and there will be no detours down pretty country lanes lined with flowers and interesting churches. The downside of plotting to the nth degree is that there are no surprises, which takes half the fun out of writing.

My usual approach is to plot a bit but let the story meander occasionally too. It generally works out, although I find I need to know exactly where the middle is going or I lose heart and writing becomes like wading between the Pyramid Stage and the Other Stage at a particularly soggy Glastonbury. So this time, it'll be a bit of a departure.

It got me wondering - how do other writers do it? Are you plotters or pantsers? And do any of you want to write my next book?

On the Off Chance that One of You Might Hear Me - Liz Kessler

Yesterday morning, I read a blog entitled So you’re a racist. Let’s talk about that. As I was reading, I thought no – no, you’re wrong. Racists should never be given a platform. I don’t want to read their words and they shouldn't be allowed any avenues for expressing them. They don’t listen. They don’t want to change their views. All that ever seems to happen when I engage with them is that I get upset, frustrated and ultimately disillusioned about the human race. And I’m not going to do it.

Then someone I know wrote, ‘If you’re not English, f*** off,’ on their Facebook status. My first reaction, when I’d picked myself up from the shock, was that I no longer wanted this person anywhere near me or my life in any way, ever again. And then I thought about the blog, and I found myself wondering if perhaps I could try it.

Well, this is my attempt to do that. So yeah, ‘M’ – this is for you. But it’s also for the many, many other people who, like you, jump on the handiest scapegoat and the easiest target to prop up their beliefs, and in doing so, only spread the hatred even further. The hatred that has upset you so much in the first place.

I think it would be safe to say that the majority of the UK – and probably the entire world – feels incredibly angry and outraged and upset about the horrific attack on the soldier Lee Rigby. Many people have jumped onto the bandwagon that is being recklessly driven by extremists and racists all over the internet. The one where you get to blame Muslims, or non-UK people, or black people – or basically anyone outside the tiny, safe circle of your precious, selfish life. By doing this, you think you are standing up for what is just and right. But you are in fact doing the opposite. You are throwing petrol on a fire that is already raging and in danger of burning out of control.

Don’t you see that?

Responding to this horrific attack with racist and xenophobic abuse only spreads more hatred and anger, and ultimately more violence. It doesn’t solve anything. The men who committed this crime were despicable, vile human beings. (In fact the term ‘human being’ is debatable where they’re concerned.) But their race has nothing to do with it. The country they were born in has nothing to do with it. Their religion, their colour. Those things are not the enemy – they are smokescreens being used to hide the reality of what they are. They are scum. They are as low as a person can get. If we use their actions to fuel racism and xenophobic hatred, we are playing directly into their hands. We are perpetuating a war that they are proud to fight in.

We must do everything we can to deny them that achievement. Their horrific actions should not be used to stir up hatred and fear of the enormous numbers of law-abiding and good-hearted people who might share the same colour, birthplace or even religion.

If there is any way to fight against atrocities like this, it is in taking the opposite approach to the one that so many people seem to have jumped to. It is to spread more tolerance, more understanding, more generosity of heart and spirit. Not more hatred, more violence and more extreme views.

The people who we should look to are those like the woman who went over to the dying soldier in the midst of the atrocities and prayed for him. The Muslims who turned to twitter to tell the world that this act was not done in their name. The ones who have posted and reposted words such as Mahatma Gandhi’s, "An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind."

So M – if you’re reading this, and if others like you are reading it, I hope that there might be one tiny thing in it that has made you stop and think about your views, just for one moment. I know that it devastates you to think that there is a two-year-old boy who one day will be told why he has grown up without a father. You are a good person who feels things deeply. Use that to make this world a better place for him, not a worse one.

Twister Not Just A Kids Game - Lynne Garner

For the last few years I've been teaching creative writing to adults. In one of the sessions we discuss point of view and as part of that session I set a task. This task is to take a fairytale or nursery rhyme and attempt to tell it using the flash fiction form known as a  Twister. If you've never heard of the term basically it's a story or part of a story told in 140 characters or less. It originated on the social media site Twitter.
  
You may be able to guess what's coming next. Yep, I'm throwing down the gauntlet and hoping some of you want to give writing a twister or two a go. Don't forget to use first point of view. What follows is my attempt at The Three Billy Goats Gruff from the point of view of the troll:

Woken this morning by small goat trying to cross bridge without paying toll. What is the world coming to? #crossmybridge.com

Discovered second goat trying to sneak across bridge without paying toll. Just cannot believe how rude goats can be. #crossmybridge.com

This morning a third goat attempted to cross bridge without paying toll. How do they expect me to stay in business? #crossmybridge.com

For sale: one bridge in good state of repair, high daily foot fall and permission to charge toll. #businessforsale  

My students have written some fab versions of well known stories. So it's with fingers crossed some of the ABBA readers/followers give it a go and are willing to share. 

Lynne Garner

A little blatant self promotion:

I have three short distance learning courses commencing on the 6th July via Women On Writing:

How To Write A Picture Book And Get Published

Five Picture Books In Five Weeks - Advanced Course

How To Write A Hobby Based How To Book 

My Special Neuro-Scientific Theory Pertaining to the Causes of the Untidy Teenage Bedroom - Nicola Morgan

This post has nothing to do with children's books. And nothing to do with being a writer. But children's writers have lives and thoughts and moments when they don't do children's booky things. And this is one.

It is time to tell you about my Special Neuro-Scientific Theory Pertaining to the Causes of the Untidy Teenage Bedroom. I touched on it in the new edition of Blame My Brain but I was not able to show you the photos especially commissioned from Photowitch, for a talk I did last year.

Actually, the whole Theory came about because of being a children's writer. I'd been asked to go on the Simon Mayo Drive-time programme. "We're talking about untidy teenage bedrooms. Can you give us any scientific reasons to explain them?" Well, you can't go on a programme which asks if you have any scientific reasons and say you haven't got any, so, in the 30 minutes I had to prepare, I came up with my SNTPCUTB.

I used to think (and said so in the original Blame My Brain, back in 2005) that teenage bedrooms were irrelevant, boring, trivial. Wrong. Teenage bedrooms (some of which are not at all untidy, by the way) are both a mirror and metaphor for their brains and also a beautiful (yes, really) illustration of one of the most interesting things about how their brains work.

Let's look at those photos by Photowitch.

Here is a teenage bedroom when it's just been tidied and the teenager isn't in it.

A great deal of stuff will have to happen in this room. The owner has to work, print things out, eat, relax, sleep, change, socialise (virtually if not physically), organise herself and keep all her possessions.

Now see the same room half an hour after the teenager has come back from school:

You can see many things going on - eating, working (an open physics book, anyway), socialising (the emails and the phone), beautifying (the nail varnish - dangerously close to that laptop, as is the drink, says my fretting adult brain which is looking ahead to catastrophe...). Note, also, clothing removed and not put away. I'll come to that in a minute, because it's central.

Now, see the same room later that evening:

*tears hair out* *weeps a little at the stirred memory*

*Calms down and remembers the Special Neuro-Scientific Theory Pertaining to the Causes of the Untidy Teenage Bedroom*

Here's the thing, and it's the thing about all untidy rooms: an untidy room happens because of a large number of small acts and in every case the act is the same - not putting something away, but dropping or leaving it where it falls. It's an act and choice which kowtows to the desire of the moment and does not look ahead to future consequences. The desire of the moment in each case is to do something more fun than putting something away (eat something, email someone, sit on your bed, paint your nails, check facebook) and the future consequence in each case is, "Eventually, my room will look horrendous and my mum/dad will come in and frown and there will be a big and annoying argument and either I will have to put it away or else, if I'm lucky, my mum/dad will, especially if I make the place so bad that they take pity on me or give up and in fact I could even play the verge-of-a-nervous-breakdown card, which I've played before to great effect."

Except that, in fact, the teenager isn't even thinking all that stuff because it's way too boring, as it is the future and is overshadowed by the much more interesting pull of the present.

And that is one of the core psychologies of adolescence. People talk (rightly) about the fact that the teenage prefrontal cortex isn't fully developed and say (rightly) that we need that pfc in order to make good decisions and judgments about the future, but what people often don't realise is that, also,  teenagers have been shown to be more strongly drawn by the emotional pull of the present. They know very well what the sensible thing to do is but it's harder for them to choose to do it. They can easily brush away the future in a fatalist kind of way.

So the untidy teenage bedroom becomes a lovely (well, OK, not lovely) illustration of this psychology.

There are some simpler reasons for the untidy bedrooms, and all the reasons probably apply:

• The fact that teenagers have to do everything in a small space.
• It's a safe way to rebel. And, dear parents, if your teenagers are going to annoy you and rebel, wouldn't you rather they did it like this, than in a whole load of other much scarier ways? Rebellion is an important aspect of becoming independent and some teenagers do it or need to do it more than others.
• They know that, in the grand scheme of the other stressful things in their life, it really doesn't matter. 

Before I came up with my Special Neuro-Scientific Theory Pertaining to the Causes of the Untidy Teenage Bedroom, I did wonder if it was simply a case of chaotic brain =  chaotic room, but I have far too much respect for the teenage brain to go down that disrespectful route. But they can still blame their brains...

__________________________________

The new updated edition of Blame My Brain is out this month, with an ebook version. There's a competition going on on my blog - I've had masses (hundreds!) of entries from individual children, teenagers and adults, but would love more school entries. 

Do you have a teenager? I'm conducting an anonymous survey for 13-18s and I'd love as many responses as possible. It's for a book I'm writing on teenage stress. The survey takes 3-4 minutes and adults are welcome to check the questions first. 

I'm also looking for adults to fill in an anonymous survey about cyber-bullying, for the same book. Please pass these links on!

On The Road - The Victory Dogs Book Tour... Megan Rix

Before the Tour:

My days are usually spent walking my dogs and then writing while my dogs sleep on the bed, or the office floor, before reminding me they need to be played with or fed. So when Puffin asked if I'd like to do a book tour, for my book The Victory Dogs, something I'd never done before, I was surprised and delighted, and immediately said yes without really understanding what it would entail.

Once I knew I'd be talking at 11 schools in 5 days I started to worry - mostly about my voice holding up and what if I got sick, authors who do lots of school visits always seem to be catching colds. What if I was in a large hall and the children at the back couldn't hear me? What if my carefully prepared powerpoint presentation didn't play on the schools' computers?

Hannah from Puffin was on hand to reassure me - they'd ask for a microphone and we'd send my powerpoint to the schools beforehand so they'd have it all set up when we arrived. But I'd also bring my own laptop with it on, just in case.

I wondered if a costume would be a good idea? She thought it would. Shopping for the tour was lots of fun as I bought WW2 overalls, two different WW2 helmets; a warden's one and a rusty Zuckerman, ARP whistle, authentic looking evacuees suitcase and items children would have had in them. CDs of Glenn Miller and air-raid siren sound effects.

I knew I was more prepared than I'd ever been for school visits before but I still worried that the children might be bored or the staff not friendly.

On the Friday Hannah emailed to say one of the schools on the first day had phoned to ask if I'd bring Traffy with me, following on from a piece in the local press about her being a reading therapy dog. She'd told them she wasn't sure if I'd think it was a good idea. I say I think it's a great idea. I'd love having Traffy with me and it would make my day to have her there.

Monday

Traffy and Bella, are confused about why they're not going for their usual early morning walk. I feel guilty for leaving them but at least my husband's working from home this week so he'll be with them.

When I arrive at the first school, 5 or so miles away, the staff are all smiles as they look behind me and ask where Traffy is? The Headmaster loves dogs and they've brought lots of treats for her.

'We put that we wanted her to come too on the form we filled in.'

I knew the second school had asked but didn't know about this one wanting her as well. I don't want to disappoint them and I'd love to have Traffy with me, so I phone my husband and Traffy is brought to the school, where she is greeted like a film star. She likes the treats they've brought for her very much but I'm a bit worried that it could be overwhelming for her. My first talk goes well - although not exactly as planned.

Once I've finished signing books I nip back home with Traffy and take her and Bella for a long walk by the river before heading off to the second school of the day. This time Traffy knows what's going on and is much calmer. I keep her with me while I'm giving my talk and she falls asleep on the floor in front of me and wakes up at the end so all the children can pet her.

Everyone comments on how well-behaved she is and I have to agree. I am very proud of her. She's such a good girl.

My husband picks Traffy up and we swap cars so I can drive to Bury St Edmunds, roof down as it's such a gorgeous day, with Hannah from Puffin.

A member of the night's hotel staff takes our bags to our rooms and parks the car for us.

Tuesday

3 schools to visit in Suffolk today. My World war 2 overalls are lasting well although my WW2 warden's hat now has a chip in the paintwork - which gives it a more authentic look.

The children are full of enthusiasm and ask lots of good questions - including one about whether I have a book showing the War from different sides. I tell them my next book 'The Bomber Dog' is attempting to do just that.

I'm starting to get in the swing of the talks and really enjoying them.

Wednesday

Off to St Albans on the train today to visit 2 super schools and chat to 2 lots of press. There's also an email from the local radio station to ask if I'll come in and have a chat soon.

Thursday

The weather has turned incredible. More like the middle of summer than May. I can't wear my hot boots a moment longer and opt for flip-flops instead.

I love all the oohs and aahs at the slides of my own dogs as puppies - before I go on to talk about the two puppies in The Victory Dogs.

Taxi to my next school, near Market Harborough, only to find they're in the middle of an OFSTED inspection. They still want the talk to go on and other schools have been invited and are arriving - so on I go - explaining to the children that the overalls I'm wearing were very practical in WW2 but no one should ever wear flip-flops to do search and rescue work if they can help it. I've already explained how modern day search and rescue dogs wear protective boots so they don't injure their paws.


Friday

Glenn  Miller music plays as the children arrive and I make my entrance in warden's hat and overalls to the real life air-raid siren that we've kindly been lent for the day.

Signing books afterwards I'm surprised when a girl comes up with some of my books written as Ruth Symes.

'Your witchling books are almost never in the library because they're always on loan,' the school librarian smiles. 'They couldn't believe it when I told them you wrote those books too.'

I happily sign away ending each signature with a paw print stamp. And before I know it the last book has been stamped and the last school has been visited and we're saying goodbye.

After the Tour

I'm feeling a bit sad that my Victory Dogs tour is over. I'm going to miss visiting all the schools. I haven't lost my voice or caught a cold, Hannah, Anthea and Julia from Puffin, who came with me on different days were brilliant, everyone we met in fact has been kind and lovely and the technical side of the presentation and Hannah's travel arrangements went without a hitch.

Hope I have another book tour one day but for now I've got two dogs who've been promised some very long walks once I come home, and are giving me meaningful looks to remind me.

The Victory Dogs: 'A moving tale told with warmth, kindliness and lashings of good sense that lovers of Dick King-Smith will especially appreciate.' The Times

Stand and Stare - Joan Lennon

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

That's the cliche.  That's the bit everybody can quote.  Lots of you may also know the rest of the poem, but for me, it came as a surprise.  Here it is, in full - "Leisure" by William Henry Davies (1871-1940):

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

We are, all of us, busy people.  And William Henry Davies was not Shakespeare.  But he was absolutely, unarguably, ineluctably right.  So that's why I'm not here to respond to any comments you may leave (though I look forward to reading them on my return!)  Instead, I'm over on the west coast of Scotland.  Standing and staring.  Like the man said.

(This isn't me, or the west coast of Scotland, but I took the photo.)

Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.