Thursday, 30 September 2021

BURN, BANISH OR BOWDLERISE? by Patricia Cleveland-Peck

      We are currently seeing evidence that many old attitudes are being reviewed. In the wake of Black Lives Matter, statues are being taken down or defaced and even the wording of such traditional songs as Land of Hoper and Glory are being challenged. That we are made aware or past injustices is of course a positive thing but when it comes to books, especially children's books, we have to decide what it anything should be done.

     There are a number of options: you could burn the books, something Hitler suggested doing to Munro Leaf's  The Story of Ferdinand, the pacifist bull, illustrated by Robert Lawson; you could ban the books as the BBC did with some of Enid Blyton"s books in the  past; you could banish the books by removing them form public libraries as happens a great deal in the US, sometimes for hilariously inappropriate reasons,  you could excise or alter such material and republish a bowdlerised version of the book - or of course you could do nothing at all.


     

Sadly the burning of books is not a thing of the past, Isis and China still go in for it and surprisingly, Harry Potter books have been burned in the US and Poland. Another form if radical censorship is the pulping of a book before publication. This happened to the first edition of Elizabeth Rusch's biography of Mario Molina, the chemist who helped solve the ozone-layer crisis. All copies were destroyed when the illustrator, David Diaz was accused of sexual harassment. It appeared later with illustrations by Teresa Martinez and won a 2020 award for best non-fiction book for young readers .

     This brings to mind a controversy nearer home which arose when, in 2004, William Mayne was convicted and imprisoned having been found guilty of paedophilia and the grooming of little girls.



   I had enjoyed several of his books with my children and remember feeling so let down on their behalf that I completely lost the taste for reading any more of Mayne's books. On reflection though, should we judge a book by the activities of the writer?  Does the fact that some of W.B Yeats's activities bordered on the dotty make him any less great as a poet? And what of Lewis Carroll? Who would want to lose the Alice books?

     In fact of course, it is usually the content of the books which is censored rather than the author's proclivities. Amongst the books which have been removed from US libraries are some of the best loved children's classics, including Margaret Wise Brown's Goodnight Moon, Jean de Brunhoff's Babar stories and books by Maurice Sendak, Dr Seuss and Roald Dahl.

     The themes targeted include racism, homosexuality, lack of good family values, obesity, nudism, blasphemy, classism, colonialism and the promotion of such things as violence, witchcraft, smoking and alcohol. In the case of Where the Wild Things Are, sending Max to bed with no supper was deemed to constitute child abuse.



   

  Sometimes it is the text which offends, sometimes the illustrations. We see for example that Roald Dahl's Oompa-Loompas, originally depicted as black were changed to white in later editions. Covers too have show deceptive images of protagonists as white when the author has described them as black or brown. The excuse for so doing? The Market. Covers showing white characters sell better.

     So should we ban, cut, or alter historic texts to bring them in line with today's evolved attitudes? Many and varying opinions have been expressed. My favourite ( fictional) philosopher even goes as far to say that not even a living author has the right to call in a published text. This she claims is like being given a present, only for the donor to want it back.

    I don't go that far but I have come to the conclusion that altering an original version is counterproductive. In the case of colonialism for example, changing the colour of a character's skin or removing overtly racist comments won't fundamentally change the basic ideology of the book -although it may make the adults reading it feel more comfortable.

    I feel that as soon as the child is old enough, the best strategy is to explain that now we do not hold these views, in fact we find them offensive because they hurt people but that at the time the book was written attitudes were different. I know, I know it will probably  mean fielding off dozens of 'whys? and 'hows?'  but is possibly worth it.

    An example is found in one of my favourite classics The Secret Garden, when sour Mary who has recently arrived from India, stamps her foot when the maid Martha says to her, "I thought you were black too..." To which Mary replies furiously, "You thought I was a native!...You dared! You don't know anything about natives. They are not people they are servants.." 



    This episode illustrates not only racism but classism too. This is a book in which some people  know they 'speak common'. Yet it is true to the culture and time of the period - and devoid of what I call the Downton syndrome in which masters and servants are portrayed as 'pals' in order to make the story chime more easily with modern mores. The Secret Garden from a writing p.o.v also shows  us superb bit of characterisation, illustrating  how the horrid Mary at the outset matures into a pleasant girl at the end.

     Explaining class prejudice in our more egalitarian  days is easier than racial prejudice because although class prejudice has not disappeared I suspect it impinges less on children than it did. The handling of race however, still needs a radical rethink. We need many more books which deal with this matter in a clear and faithful ways.  The ratio of black and mixed race protagonists in children's books comes nowhere near representing the proportion of BAME children in society  and the ratio of BAME authors is equally slewed. Further if these children do appear in books they are often portrayed as victims, sometimes heroic victims, whereas real BAME children don't want to be depicted as exotic or niche, they want to read about ordinary people like them having adventures. Should these books  be written by black or  white authors? Well that's something for a different discussion. 

Patricia Cleveland-Peck


Wednesday, 29 September 2021

A Good Ending

The same family circumstances that made my last post a short one are still ongoing. But I wanted to offer something for my monthly contribution and while I was mulling it over, I thought about endings. 

Every book should have an opening that grabs the reader. Otherwise you wouldn’t want to read it. But a good ending – for me at least - wraps everything up with a satisfying CLICK. It lets me put the book down with – well, a happy glow; a sigh of sadness; a shout of triumph, or even just the sombre ripples of a human truth gracefully revealed.

Here, in no particular order, are some of my favourites.With a few covers thrown in as clues.

I never saw any of them again, except the cops. No way has yet been invented to say goodbye to them.

 

 It’s not a particularly exciting life, but it’s my life. And I’m bloody well going to try my best to live it.

And the canisters of gas still stand in their concrete chamber, leaning towards the steel-shuttered windows, as if waiting for someone or something to come once more and set them free.

This ends my true account of how I avenged Frank Ross’s blood over in the Choctaw Nation when snow was on the ground.

 

Wooley fell out, and the last that Wallace and Cowie saw of him, before they sheered away in fright, was his long brown flying coat opening in the wind and checking his fall. For a moment it billowed out and let his smoking plane fall away; and then the coat collapsed, and Wooley dropped too.
 

So we beat on, boats against the current, drawn back ceaselessly into the past.

At the end of the field, among the thin gold spikes of grass and the harebells and Gypsy roses and St John’s Wort, we may just take one last look, over our shoulders, at the white house where neither we nor anyone else is wanted now.


 

 

Tuesday, 28 September 2021

'I am no longer an author!' by Kelly McKain

 

‘I am no longer an author!’

One day in 2015 I went up onto the glorious heathland where I live, and where I walked most days for a decade until I recently moved. There I proclaimed to the sky, trees, earth and probably a nearby spaniel or highland cow that I was no longer an author.

After over a decade in publishing, and, at that time, more than forty titles, I was at a powerful crossroads. I had enjoyed a great run with some popular series – mermaids, fairies, ponies, fashion, family and friends, comedy and drama – I’d written it, and absolutely loved doing so. I’d also loved meeting amazing, inspiring readers and young writers at events and school visits in the UK and beyond.

But I’d done it. It was done. Really, very, very done.

My editors were still keen to develop new series with me, and I tried a few ideas, but nothing really grabbed me, or them. Deep down I knew it was because I’d shared what was in my heart, got my stories down on paper and said what I’d wanted to say – which, in short, was that being human can be really hard, and growing up on our world as it is can be really, really hard, but that with love, and courage, and community, you can find your happy. You can create, collaborate, make discoveries and best of all, experience life’s true beauty, deep richness and raw, real juice.

So there I was… ‘I am no longer an author!’ I proclaimed. 

I felt an intense sense of freedom. Of excitement. Of possibility. Oh my goodness, I could become a Reiki master, or equine-assisted therapist, or work in my favourite health shop, or for a charity or maybe in a deli or…

An hour later I was down off the heath and back on my sofa, with a cup of tea. One of my cardboard folders caught my eye. I keep one for each idea that I have. I don’t even remember which one it was now. Or if I ever did anything with it. But it was calling me. Irresistible. It was saying, ‘You may not be an author anymore, but you could just have a look at this, this in here, just for the fun of it…’ So then the next thing I knew, I was reading through my notes, and then I was scribbling new ideas on them, moving concepts and themes forward, and watching characters come to life with traits and fears and hopes and dark secrets and big dreams – characters who hadn’t existed an hour before.

Of course I was an author, whether or not I ever published anything again. Whether or not it was a job or a hobby. I wasn’t getting away from myself that easily!

And then, back on the heath again, a few weeks or months later – after I’d given myself that permission, that break, that totally clean slate, Green Witch came along. Now, today, six years later, I’m sitting here doing the final prep on the Book 1 manuscript so that I can get it submitted to its publisher and then go and celebrate with a weekend in Glastonbury.

I remember the first moment of it – the first feeling of it in the ether. The very first ‘what if?’ that grew into a YA fiction trilogy and a TV adaptation. I saw a red kite, soaring above, and the feeling formed into a question: ‘What if I could just shift my consciousness and lift out of my body and find myself behind that bird’s eyes, swooping with it, living its experience?’

This led to ‘What if there was a parallel wild wood to this one where you could do that at will, and, in fact, manifest any magical helper or tool just by thinking about it?’

This led to, ‘And who might be in that parallel wild wood, doing such a thing?’ and then, ‘And why would they be there, and who would they be trying to help or save or rescue, and who from and why and…’

And with the author alive and well and thrumming and humming within me, sharpening her pencils and tapping her heels together three times, I began the journey of walking the world of Green Witch into the earth, and from there, writing it into this world we call home.

by Kelly McKain

www.kellymckain.co.uk

Monday, 27 September 2021

Winter is Coming by Claire Fayers



I'll be the first to say it: summer is over.

The last, sad tomatoes are dropping from my plants. The sunflowers are withering. The sweet peas gave up the ghost weeks ago. Yesterday, we almost put the central heating on. 

Winter is coming. Winter, with its dark, cold mornings; its rain and its gloom. 

Winter, when you can read under a blanket without feeling guilty. When you can write in bed in the afternoon with the cats curled around you. When you can wear your dressing gown all day like Arthur Dent. 

Winter, when we live on casserole and pudding, and we’ve all put on weight in lockdown anyway so who cares about the calories? There might be crisp winter mornings with frost underfoot. Candles in the evening. Hot chocolate in front of the fire.

Winter is a wonderful season for creating. There will be recipes to try, pumpkins to carve, trees to festoon. November is Nanowrimo month if you fancy writing a novel in 30 days. And even if you don't, the long, dark evenings are a perfect time for some writing sprints. In summer we had to go out so as not to waste the weather. In winter, we can curl up and dream.

And then there’ll be Christmas when we can stock up on books like this one. 




Or this one. 




Or this one.




Winter means the Scattered Authors Folly Farm retreat. Last year's had to be cancelled and I am so much looking forward to January 2022.

Winter means little things. Like closing the curtains at night to make the house instantly cosy. A hot shower after a cold walk. Watching for the robin in the garden. Hoping for snow.

Winter is coming - hurrah!

I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on,
The windows and the stars illumined, one by one,
The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily,
And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see
The Springs, the Summers, and the Autumns slowly pass;
And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,
I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight,
And build me stately palaces by candlelight.

Charles Baudelaire




Claire Fayers writes fantasy adventures and fairy tales, and can't wait to don her dressing gown. 









Sunday, 26 September 2021

The Panda, The Cat and The Dreadful Teddy by Paul Magrs, review by Shirley-Anne McMillan

I have loved Paul Magrs's writing for years now. He is one of those rare authors who is just great at covering a range of genres- YA, magical realism, crime fiction, sci-fi... So it shouldn't be a big surprise to anyone that he has turned his hand to what poet Gerry Potter calls inspirational positivia. Well, sort of. Not really.

The Panda, The Cat and the Dreadful Teddy is a hilarious take on those kinds of books. The adorable figures of Panda, Cat and Teddy stand for us in Pandemic Times, listening to the trite phrases that are meant to make us feel great about ourselves and honestly reflecting that actually they’re just making us feel worse. And quite pissed off, really.



As part of my job I curate a ‘Thought For The Day’ for a local school and so I spend a lot of time looking at ‘inspirational’ memes and websites searching for something meaningful among the ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ type phrases which make me want to scream. The Panda, The Cat and the Dreadful Teddy is the antidote to this kind of thing. It’s more ‘Live, laugh, love and swear your head off if it all gets too much.’


One of the things I really love about it is that it isn’t completely cynical. Teddy, the little bear who just wants everyone to be happy, is so relatable that even as we’re laughing at sweary Panda’s responses we’re also on Teddy’s side too- he’s really cute and we like him, and we suspect that perhaps Panda actually likes him too really. I mean, they’re always together, and Panda hasn’t killed him, yet...

Paul’s drawings are wonderful (it was so hard to pick a few out of the book to post here) and the juxtaposition of the lovely little characters with Panda’s perma-rage had me laughing out loud several times. He does give some good advice too. I feel like the combination of the three characters are the perfect contemporary therapist- telling it like it is, reflecting pandemic rage, and sometimes encouraging you to just wise up.

The Panda, The Cat and the Dreadful Teddy is out on the 30th September and I can't wait to get my hands on it. Check out Paul's Twitter account for more. 

Saturday, 25 September 2021

To social media or not to social media? by Holly Race

Anyone who has stepped foot in Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or TikTok will know that they can be perilous places. It's so easy to get sucked in, either arguing with someone whose mind you're never going to change, or comparing your own success (or lack of) with others who are on the same path. It's a drain: of time, of mental energy, of emotion.

But I can't pull myself away! I love being able to keep in contact with my readers and with other authors, to keep abreast of what's happening in the book world and to applaud my peers' successes.

I've been wishing for a while that I could find a better balance with my social media use: being smarter, spending more time engaging with others instead of firing off every random thought that comes to me when I've inevitably had too much coffee and too little sleep. Thus I found myself on Neema Shah's incisive and practical 'Marketing for Writers' online course. I won't share exactly what she taught me, but her guidance has led me to both realisations and a much more fun and fulfilling social media experience.

Here are a few insights I got into my own personal online experience:

  • Facebook is going to remain a platform I use to connect with other writers rather than readers. My audience - mostly teenagers and people in their 20s - don't really use Facebook anymore.
  • Twitter doesn't enjoy me talking directly about my books - in a month when I had a lot of events lined up, I actually lost followers! It's a much better site for getting and giving recommendations of all kinds.
  • Instagram, conversely, much prefers me to post pretty pictures of my own books to anyone else's! I love sharing photos of my latest book haul so I can't see myself changing my posting habits, but it was interesting to note the difference with Twitter nonetheless.
  • TikTok. Ah, TikTok. I'd avoided doing anything more than scrolling through this newest platform until recently, because it makes me feel very old and uncool. However, I dipped my toes in last week and had a surprisingly pleasant experience. I had more fun on social media than I've had in a long time. TikTok seems to love a bit of sass, and with an endless stream of prompts, it's not as creatively draining as I'd feared it might be. The Bookseller recently reported a 61% uptick in sales of YA books, largely thanks to TikTok. I don't know whether it's a coincidence or correlation, but my own book leapt up the Amazon rankings a day after I posted my first video...

I'll be interested to see what else comes out of my new, hopefully more streamlined, way of thinking about how to use social media. I never want to chase followers, but given my work is largely solitary, I'd love to be able to reach more like-minded readers and writers across the globe in a meaningful way!

---


Holly Race worked for many years as a script editor in film and television, before becoming a writer.

Her YA urban fantasies, Midnight's Twins and A Gathering Midnight, are published by Hot Key Books.

Thursday, 23 September 2021

In praise of books! By Sue Purkiss

 Books are the most fantastic things, aren't they? I don't particularly mean books as objects, though I could happily write  a good deal on that topic too - I mean what's in them.

I've just finished a book by Elif Shafak, a British-Turkish writer whom I came across last year when listening to a talk from the Hay Festival online. She was talking to Philippe Sands, whose books I had read, and who is another enormously impressive author, though of non-fiction rather than fiction.

I finally got to read one of her books a couple of weeks ago - I've written about it here. It's called The Island of Missing Trees, and I love it. It's about memory, belonging, identity, relationships, love, trees - all sorts of things. Then this morning I just finished Three Daughters of Eve.

This is a spikier, in some ways more challenging book, for me at any rate. It concerns a woman from Istanbul, Peri, and takes place over one - very dramatic - night, when Peri goes to a dinner party, is attacked on the way there, and then - well - something else happens. During the course of the long evening, she finds herself reflecting on events from sixteen years before (and earlier) when she was at Oxford University, which was for her a seminal and intensely disruptive experience with which she has never really come to terms. During her time there she came to know a charismatic philosophy lecturer named Azur, and hoped that he would help her to understand not only herself, but also the nature of God.

Many years ago, when I was a fresher doing English at Durham University, we had an introductory talk by the head of department, Professor Dorsch. At one point, (after informing us that the three greatest writers in the English language were Wordsworth, Shakespeare, and, I think, Milton) he moved on to discuss what subsidiary subjects we might be thinking of taking. It was a long time ago, and I'm paraphrasing, but what he said was along these lines: "Some of you might be thinking of taking philosophy. I would advise you to think very carefully about doing so. It is a very... difficult subject."

Well, going by this book, I think he was right. Elif Shafak certainly doesn't shy away from it, but I can't pretend to have understood much of the philosophical discussion in the book. And there's a lot more that I know I haven't yet grasped - what was the significance of the attack, in particular the bandaged hand? Why does Peri have visions of a baby in the mist? (Actually, I think I do have a clue about that one.) Why... and so on. It's a book I'd love to discuss in a book group - I need to tap into the wisdom of others!

But notwithstanding all that I didn't understand, I found the book brilliant, stimulating, absorbing. When I'd finished it I felt that I'd been in another place. I felt refreshed, challenged, invigorated. Isn't it marvellous that a book can do that for you?

And of course, different books can do different things. I have books I return to when I need comfort reading - the assurance that once I open the book, I will be absorbed. A great favourite of this kind in recent years has been Elly Griffith's series of books about a forensic archaeologist, Ruth Galloway, set in Norfolk.  (For more, see here.) The delight in these books is the cast of characters, their relationships, their affection for each other, the way they change and grow over time. Or there are Colin Cotterill's Dr Siri books set in Laos - similarly, the mystery element is almost incidental: it's the characters whose worlds you want to enter. And if things are really bad, I go in search of Heidi, and toasted cheese in the attic of the Alm Uncle.

There are so many different kinds of books, aren't there? Books about nature, which help to further our knowledge of the environment and also can bring a sense of peace and astonishment.

Biographies, which again take us into other lives.

Books on history and politics, which challenge and make us think.

And of course, there are children's books, which enchant and which bring hope and a sense of what is possible.

I know it's an obvious thing to say on a blog that celebrates writing - but thank heaven for books, especially in these interesting times!

Wednesday, 22 September 2021

Julia And The Shark, by Kiran Millwood Hargrave and Tom de Freston, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart

 



This is a wonderful book to hold, heavy, and lush with shimmery silver framing its two-tone cover, a murmuration of birds flying from one endpaper over the page edges into the other endpaper. 

That production is entirely in keeping with the story. It is a heavy story, heavy with dread from the opening hint that Julia’s mother is going to die, heavy with the deep upset of a bipolar mother plunging from dangerously hyper enthusiasm and confidence to wanting to kill herself. This is a story that is honest about what it feels like to be the child living through that, but the story surprises us with the mother being saved by real life NHS help. And Mum’s mental instability isn’t by any means all that this story is about.

Like the surging murmuration of those birds, we swirl with beauty, observing the wonders of the sea and the night sky from a remote Shetland lighthouse. Those wonders come within a very relatable story of friendships and a bully and misunderstandings and learning to see the whole of people in order to understand and care for them. And there is daring and adventure for eleven year old Julia as she takes her mother’s tatty boat out into a storm to search for the ancient whale her more had been searching for and believing in. She finds it! And does that whale save her life when she’s drowning, before a human rescue brings her safe home? Tense and exciting and compelling!

Like that silver glimmer on the cover, the writing and illustration add beauty and shimmer to this story, lived through words and pictures.

After the story comes the bonus of Julia’s notebook jottings of fascinating sea and sky related facts, and some information about mental illness and how to find help if you are struggling.

 

Exactly because this is such a powerful story and book, I hope that adults read it first, and know the child reader, before offering it to those who will cope well with, and love, it. It’s a story to talk through with that child reader after it’s been read. For some children this will a life-changing book, opening their eyes and hearts to more than they’d known before of their world and of the people and other creatures who live in it. 


Pippa Goodhart: www.pippagoodhart.co.uk  

 

Tuesday, 21 September 2021

Parables or Propaganda? The role of the Children's writer.


I went to an online book launch this week, of a book by Philip Reeves, a children's writer whose work I really admire, and whose imagination astounds me.  I bought and read the book, 'Utterly Dark and the Face of the Deep' and frequently had to stop and read bits out loud, as I just love the way he uses words. It's a great story. Philip says he wants to write Art which is accessible to children, and I think he does just that. The way he uses language is amazing, and I highly recommend it. 




Here is the recording of the books launch. It's really worth watching,  for the readings by Philip and also the introduction by Liz Cross and the interview with Nikki Gamble. There were also questions from people there, and someone asked him whether he would ever write for adults.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cV78OU0CF84


In the interview, at 48.51 Philip replied to a question about whether he would ever write for adults,  saying something which really interested me and made me think. He mentioned a trend in children's' books that he didn't like, called 'The Water Babies tendency', a tendency to be didactic and use stories for children to impart lessons for readers. He said that he didn't want to write parables, and that he wanted to write Art, and as long as he could do that he would continue to write for children.


I think that's fascinating, and his mention of 'The Water Babies' really made me want to explore this more.


I totally 'get' what Philip says about didacticism in Children's Literature. Back in 1993-95, I studied for an MA in the History and Development of Children's Literature, and am very interested in Victorian books for children, and have a small collection of them. Anyone who ever reads the incredibly popular  'The Fairchild Family',  (pub in three volumes 1818, 1842, 1847) by Mary Martha Sherwood  - will understand Hilaire Belloc's   'Matilda' and others of his 'Cautionary Tales', which I am sure directly reacted to books like 'The Fairchild Family'. The dire consequences of a lie told by a child in The Fairchild Family' are jaw-droppingly awful! The fascinating thing is that it was seen as delightfully realistic at the time! 


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_History_of_the_Fairchild_Family

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cautionary_Tales_for_Children


As a child, and as an adult, I have read my fair share of  stories for children which are just not very good, and which are being used to impose some sort of value system, religious or political. The most extreme examples of this which leaps to mind, which influenced my book 'Girl with a White Dog'  can be seen here:


https://wienerholocaustlibrary.org/exhibition/a-is-for-adolf-teaching-german-children-nazi-values/


I am in no doubt that didacticism and worthiness is fatal for good Art, but I confess that as an adult writing for children I did have a message I wanted to convey in all my MG books - I did want to use story to tell children something about History, and I know I have more stories I want to tell like that. I realise that if I know I have a message, I have to also make extra sure that the quality of my story telling and writing isn't damaged by any existing desire to use story to inform/warn and, I hope, empower children. Luckily, I am not alone, as I have an agent and publishers and editors etc to make sure that the story takes precedence, but it's an important consideration for me, and a real challenge. In the end, the story has to come first.





I have ambivalent feelings about 'The Water Babies' and its author. My mum and dad were Irish,  and I have read some appallingly anti-Irish things written by Charles Kingsley. Reading it now, the actual book is full of moralising. At the same time, I can't help admiring it - I think it is amazing that one children's book could have such power to change the fate of real life children - 'The Water Babies' got through to public consciousness, and had immense influence, helping to bring about the end of the use of climbing boys. 


"Black Beauty' by Anna Sewell was written primarily to draw attention to the cruel treatment of horses, but I think the reason why it is so loved is that it is beautifully written, and a wonderful story. 


I come from a very religious, Christian background, so I am very used to the idea of parables, and the idea of stories being told to impart some truth about life. I love, for example, the parable of the good shepherd, or the Good Samaritan.  I suppose I wrote a sort of a parable about the power of loving attention when I wrote 'Bloom', illustrated by Robyn Wilson-Owen. However, thinking about Art and the power of the unconscious, I realise that I discovered the parable after I had written it. I didn't set out to write a parable - I wasn't even sure what I was writing when I started - I just started to write a story about a little girl who loved a flower, and the words just came.






So I don't have any answers, just that attending this launch and reading this book has reminded me to look out for any clunky didacticism which might damage story, whilst remembering that I am an adult writing for children, and that does affect what I do. I would love my writing to help change the world for the better in however small a way, but that is a desire full of pitfalls. I want primarily to make Art, to be a story-teller, and I am inspired by amazing books which tell great stories. I think as writers we are all inevitably  influenced by our own personal values and belief systems when we write, and that will be communicated, overtly or not. I end with some inspiring words by David Almond from his website:


'To create and to pass on a story is a fundamental, human act. We’ve been sharing stories with each other since the beginning of human time. We’ll be sharing them until the end.'

DAVID ALMOND https://davidalmond.com/on-writing/


Every story that we write or read or act or sing or dance is an act of optimism, a move against the destructive forces that want to stifle us. 

https://davidalmond.com/about/






Monday, 20 September 2021

Interview with Children's Author Gill Arbuthnott by Joan Lennon

Welcome to An Awfully Big Blog Adventure, Gill! 

Gill Arbuthnott

Tell us a bit about yourself.

I was born and brought up in Edinburgh and went to James Gillespie’s High School: alma mater of Muriel Spark and thinly disguised in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Maybe something seeped into me there, because I always wanted to be a writer. It took a while though – I was a Biology teacher for 30 years, which hadn’t been part of the plan, but paid the mortgage while I tried to get published. I managed that in 2003, when Floris Books published my first novel, The Chaos Clock. Since then, I’ve managed to average a book a year, with a mixture of picture books, novels, popular science and history titles, all for children and young adults.



September is an exciting month for you, isn’t it?

It certainly is! Due to the vagaries of publishing and covid-related delays, I have two books being published this month and one in October, so it’s definitely a vintage year for me. From Shore to Ocean Floor (Big Picture Press) is a history of undersea exploration; Microbe Wars (Templar Books) is all about microbes and how they affect us. (Not only in a bad way, like covid, but all the good things they do for us.) And next month will bring The Amazing Life of Mary, Queen of Scots: Fact-tastic Stories from Scotland's History (Young Kelpies).



You started off writing fiction, but your recent books are non-fiction. How different is the writing process?

Not as different as you would think. I like to write non-fiction by finding the stories in it, rather than simply assembling facts. If you can bring in the personalities of the people involved it makes it far more engaging. This is something I learned during all those years of teaching: text books tell you about discoveries, but seldom about the people who made them. I found that my pupils were much more interested when it became clear that scientists were people too, with flaws and eccentricities and families of their own.



Design and illustration are very important for children’s non-fiction. How does that affect the job of writing the text?

I’m lucky enough to work with some great design departments and wonderful illustrators and I’m in awe of all of them. I don’t have any artistic talent whatsoever (just ask any of my former pupils about the diagrams I drew on the board…). I am gradually getting better at thinking in a more visual way about what will appear on a double page spread, which is how most of these books are organised. Occasionally, I even make a suggestion if I think a particular illustration would help to explain a tricky concept. I still find it astonishing to see my words brought to life in such a stunning way.

What are you most looking forward to, as the country gets back to something more normal after the pandemic?

Getting back into schools to talk directly to pupils and do science workshops, both of which are great fun. I usually do a fair bit of that, and I really miss it. Getting feedback from pupils is enormously helpful in improving my writing and giving me ideas for what to write next.

And what is next?

Aha… It’s still a secret!


To find out more about Gill and her books, visit www.gillarbuthnott.com

Saturday, 18 September 2021

Is it really worth entering writing competitions? by Lu Hersey

 This month, apart from my own writing, I've been busy working as a mentor with my lovely #WriteMentor mentee, helping select stories for the longlist for the new Searchlight Writing for Children competition, and to select short stories for the Bristol Short Story Prize longlist. It made me think again how useful writing competitions can be to aspiring writers - a possible way to get on the road to publication. I know this. It's how I first got published.  

If you're an unpublished novel writer, there are several high profile competitions you can enter each year - and if you're a short story writer or a poet, the choice is even wider (and it often doesn't matter if you're previously published or not). 

So what stops writers entering? Often they simply don't see the point. Writers can be a gloomy bunch (I'm weighed down by a planet-size ball of negativity sometimes - it's a very common writer thing). If you're already feeling down, think there's no way you're going to win and the entry fee is more expensive than buying a lottery ticket, why bother?

If the competition is a reputable one (a bit of research can quickly eliminate the ones that just want money for free content), believe me, there are a lot of reasons to go for it. For a start, your chances of winning are FAR higher than your chances of winning the lottery. Look at the statistics... even if 5000 people enter a novel writing competition, your chances of winning are 5000-1. Do you know how many people enter the lottery? GAZILLIONS!! 

Of course your winnings won't be on the same scale as a big lottery win - even the winner of the prestigious Times Chicken House competition for children's novel writing only gets £10,000 (I say 'only' - in my world that's almost an annual salary) - but winning a writing competition isn't just about money. It helps to get you noticed by agents and publishers. Even if you don't win a cash prize, being longlisted or shortlisted shows you must have some degree of talent, because the other 4950 people didn't get that far.

Perhaps you've entered a few competitions before, didn't get anywhere, and ended up feeling worse? Or maybe the person who actually won was someone you know and think isn't that great (definitely keep that opinion to yourself!) My advice (as a gloomy, negative thinker) is don't give up!! Seriously, when I won the Mslexia competition a few years ago, I knew several other writers who'd entered that year - and I also know their work was just as good as mine. One (who shall be nameless) went on to get a six figure publishing deal - and they weren't even longlisted. 

Which goes to show there is always an element of chance and luck in any competition. The people who sift the stories to decide on a longlist will have individual tastes - they can recognise good writing, but might not like the genre you write in as much as other genres they put forward. It doesn't mean you can't write, even if not winning makes you feel like that.

I've been a reader for the Bristol Short Story Prize for the last 14 years. Over this time, I've noticed how the reading tastes of the primary readers (Bristol Short Story Prize readers are all writers or booksellers themselves) can inevitably influence the stories they put forward for the potential longlist. Then the ones chosen by the second readers for the competition judges to shortlist (these days I mostly help with the second reading) are again, to some degree, influenced by personal taste. 

Fortunately we all have different tastes, so at this stage arguments between the readers can get heated - but some very good stories inevitably fall by the wayside. If there are two or more stories with a similar theme, the one we put forward to the judges is the one that stands out most. (NB. If it helps, some of the most common short story themes are cancer, dementia, mental health, death and grief. Which means if your story is a variation on any of those themes, it has to be really good - there will almost certainly be other stories on a similar theme.)

The same applies to children's novels - magic and fantasy novels make up the bulk of entries to writing competitions. Of course it doesn't mean you shouldn't write magic or fantasy if you want to win, it simply means you need to be that bit more original to stand out. Just give it your best shot - it's still worth entering. After all, the majority of published children's books also fit into those categories.

Another big plus with any writing competition is it gives you a deadline to work towards. Whether you win or not, you end up with something you can enter into other competitions, or possibly sub to agents. You haven't wasted your time or your money. Honest.

Competitions come and go, but some big ones that shine out for unpublished children's novel writers are the Mslexia children's novel writing competition, the Times Chicken House competition, and (if you're a member of SCBWI) Undiscovered Voices. (#WriteMentor is starting to get attention too, though this is more focused on helping talented writers develop their skills). The writers who win the big ones are very likely to find an agent and get published.  And if you write short stories, several of the final 20 writers selected for the Bristol Short Story Prize anthology each year go on to have work published elsewhere, as do winners of the various Bridport prizes.

There are now very few competitions I'm eligible to enter as a published writer, but I still sometimes go for the ones I can. It gives me a deadline, and if I'm lucky enough to get shortlisted, reaffirms that I still have the ability to write. In the very difficult, crowded world of publishing, where most of us earn virtually nothing from actual writing, a confidence boost can really help keep you going.

So as soon as you feel your work is ready, why not take the plunge? Go on! Enter some competitions. It might change your life.



Lu Hersey 


Lu Hersey is the author of Deep Water, originally published by Usborne and now republished in a lovely new edition by Tangent Books.  She is also currently shortlisted in the Wells Book for Children competition, which has helped her feel a lot less gloomy this month.



Friday, 17 September 2021

One small step - A cosmic writers residency? by Tracy Darnton

Hot on the heels of Branson and Bezos, another billionaire went for a ride in space this week. Jared Isaacman funded himself and three others on the Inspiration4 mission, using Elon Musk's SpaceX craft. 


Where are they off to? Not the moon yet, nor Mars, not the ISS, but basically orbiting while doing a few science experiments 360 miles up. The SpaceX capsule is automated so they don't need years of astronaut training - a mere six months. One of the Inspiration4 crew, Dr Sian Porter 51, is an artist who's going to paint while looking out of the new, extra-large domed window in their Dragon capsule. (She's also a high-achieving geoscientist but let's ignore that for now.) Shortly, a Russian film director and actress are popping up to the space station. Pretty sure there was a real live astronaut who played the guitar in space a while back. So I'm thinking it must be the turn of a writer soon. 

Not sure I can spare a whole six months training what with the house renovations and book edits and I've got a heap of bulbs to plant, but I'm definitely intrigued. It gets me thinking about the future prospects for a Writers Residency gig in space. More specifically, about the prospects for me

"Do you need special pens for space?" I muse over the breakfast table. According to the more science-y members of the household, this is apparently the sort of ridiculous question which would automatically exclude me from astronaut selection. But, as I point out, I have watched a lot of Star Trek in my time, Galaxy Quest is my go-to comfort film and Cosmic by Frank Cottrell Boyce is my all-time favourite children's book. And I have an astronaut duvet cover on the spare bed. 

Why shouldn't I get to boldy go?



Turns out, there are quite a few reasons. 

'I'm a writer, not an engineer, Captain.'



I'm not a high-achiever on the science front - even if my one science O' Level was a grade A. And it may be too late to change that. This is one of the life lessons I've been confronting lately with middle-age. There are some dreams and opportunities which are never coming true - I will never be a Nobel prize winning physicist or remotely capable of fixing anything like Tom Hanks did with the duck tape and a toilet roll in Apollo 13. 

Instead, I would need to throw myself on the largesse of the billionaires currently in the market for paying for strangers to pop along with them. But hey, ho, I may have missed the boat with Mr Isaacman but there's always another billionaire along in a moment and my son directs me to Yusaku Maezawa who is recruiting eight members of the public for a week long trip to the Moon, as you do. And - here's the good news - he's specifically after 'artists'. I'm hoping that's in the broadest sense, as I'm completely talentless with a paintbrush. But I can definitely spare a week in 2023.

My son kindly points out a few more reasons in the 'NO' column. 

Travel sickness. 



I get travel sickness - sometimes quite spectacularly. I had to leave a revolving restaurant in China because I was too queasy and had to lie down. Don't get me started on the Denis the Menace ride at Chessington circa 2005. Also the school trip on a cross-channel hovercraft. Very nasty indeed.

Small spaces.    

I am not good with them. Sorry. Definite claustrophobia. Even a snorkel mask in the big wide ocean can bring it on. And I'm not enjoying the Vigil submarine drama as they keep showing the teeny tiny bunkroom with the little curtains.

Bathroom facilities.

I've reached the stage in my life where I've had my fill of shared bathroom facilities and/or backpacking/camping. The family bunkbed room at a hostel in Milan two years ago finished me off. It's my own en suite bathroom now or the deal's off.


Not sure I've been selling myself as a crew member but maybe Yusaku would get a kick out of selecting the least suitable (aka useless) crew ever assembled. Maybe he'd like to provide a writer in residence spot for a not very well-known writer who could be an absolute liability.  

I check out his  Dear Moon website 

Sadly I'm too late for the application process. The September update says that candidates going forward are already at the medical stage. I've missed out again. I shall have to wait for another billionaire to come along. But it says I can experience what it's like to be a member of the dearMoon crew by trying out the spacesuit filter. 


I'm going to say, Yusaku, I think there's going to be a little bit more to the whole going on a spaceship than that, but what do I know. It's certainly one very, very, very small step for a woman. It may be the closest I ever get. 


Tracy Darnton is the author of YA thrillers The Rules and The Truth About Lies. She is currently Writer in Residence in her own home. You can follow her on Twitter @TracyDarnton




Wednesday, 15 September 2021

Taking the time to write that short letter - by Rowena House

‘I’m making this a long letter because I don’t have time to write a short one.’

It’s a truth most writers will recognise, I’m sure, and a sentiment that might have first been expressed by Blaise Pascal, a French philosopher and mathematician, in 1657. Or by Mark Twain centuries later. Or by someone else. Whoever it was, this autumn I’m taking the time to write that short letter about the work-in-progress.

It isn’t actually a letter at all; it’s the introduction to a research report aimed at confirming the final step onto a PhD programme, a getting-to-the-heart-of-it rationale for what I think I’m doing and why. And very illuminating it is, too.

Writing this short letter is forcing me to examine each nebulous idea I’ve had about the story over the past eighteen months and to see if it can be turned into something solid: part of a story with an expressible theme and a purpose. I’ve done a bunch of research, given it time to sink into the subconscious, and now I’m sorting through what has resurfaced, and deciding whether it amounts to a hill of beans. 

Being an academic exercise, the result does sound pretentious. ATM, the letter opens with: ‘This project explores the porosity of the historical record, and the legitimacy of plugging the gaps with pluralistic, proto-feminist interpretations of the past.’ Apparently I’m writing ‘an original, plausible, and historically-anchored counter-narrative’.

Cor. Who knew?

Scholarly language aside, the letter does get me closer to the nub of what exactly I think I’m writing about in the subtext, and why it matters to me at least. I will share these conclusions later; for now, I’m still nurturing them and protecting them from too public a view.

One thing that remains hard to articulate is why I feel empathy towards a protagonist whose actions were, to a modern mind, repellent and misogynistic. The non-academic version runs along the lines of: give the guy a break! He got a tough assignment and made a hash of it. Clarifying that intuitive explanation is throwing up some unexpected insights.

First, over the summer, I knew I had to ditch the second viewpoint character, even though she’s a she and this is meant to be a feminist story. I now think the reason for this is because he is the one that changes; she is a catalyst for change. And since story and change are joined at the hip, her storyline was diluting rather than enhancing his transformational encounters with female ‘others’.

Second, after living with this story for a while, it feels more creative and honest to be fully immersed in the muddled mind of a morally dubious protagonist than to retain a third person authorial neutrality. Subjectivity is fiction’s gift; best to leave objectivity to (good) journalists.

This type of pre-writing analysis isn’t something I’ve done before, even on the Bath Spa MA in the early days of The Goose Road, when I worked out the plot and character arcs during the drafting and development edit stages.

The bigger questions were there – where does the story fit within its genre; why is this my story to tell; what original thing is it saying; is that a true and worthwhile thing to say? – but they were mostly discussed in blogs written to coincide with publication.

In his masterclasses on Russian short stories in A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, George Saunders quotes Milan Kundera advising writers to ‘listen to the wisdom of the story’ which, he says, should be greater than the (conscious) wisdom of the writer. Hopefully, with the luxury of time, one can listen to a story before it’s written. 



Twitter: @HouseRowena

Website: rowenahouse.com

Facebook: Rowena House Author






Tuesday, 14 September 2021

Where do I come from? (part 1) by Lynne Benton

 While wondering what to write about in this month’s blog, I came across a thin book, almost hidden among fatter volumes on my bookshelf, called The Observer Book of Books.  Published in 2008, some of the articles inside are somewhat out of date – but others are still fascinating and totally relevant today.  Although some pieces are more concerned with books for adults, this particular gem is specifically about children’s books – which inspired this blog.

Where do I come from? concerns the origins of children’s fiction, and tells of the background to several famous books.  Since there are ten in all, I’ve decided to write about five this month and leave the remaining five for next month’s blog.  They are listed in chronological order – at least, in order of the year of their publication.

The first book is one everyone will have heard of and most will have read, possibly many times, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll, first published in 1865. 


As most people know, Charles Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) was an Oxford minister who told his original story to, and based its heroine on, his young friend Alice Liddell.  However, what is not quite so well-known is that several real people appear in the story as nonsensical characters, such as Dodgson himself as the Dodo, Disraeli as Bill the Lizard, inventor Theophilus Carter as the Mad Hatter, and artist John Ruskin as the Drawing Master.

The second book is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by Frank L Baum, published in 1900.


This was possibly intended to be more political fable than fantasy, since Baum was sympathetic to the Populists, a socialist alliance of farmers (Scarecrow) and industrial workers (Tin Man).  Both were sent down the Yellow Brick Road (the gold standard) along with the Lion (the natural world), braving the Wicked Witch of the East (Wall Street) to see the Wizard (the president), who was an ordinary man of illusory power.  Baum’s books give over the rule of Oz to the commoners, while Dorothy (folk wisdom) returns to Kansas.  Now, having discovered all that, I’d rather like to see the film/read the book all over again!

Next comes Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie, published in 1902.


Peter sprang from several sources: JM Barrie’s brother, who died at the age of 13 and would therefore never grow up (or “remain a boy forever”), the five Llewelyn Davies boys whom Barrie befriended, and perhaps Barrie himself, who was only 5 feet tall.  Another child, six-year-old Margert Henley, called Barrie “my fwendy”, and became Wendy.  The Roman god Pan gave Peter his surname and mischievous persona.

Following that comes number four: The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame, published in 1908.

Grahame invented this tale for his son Alastair.  Blind in one eye and an only child, Alastair was prone to rages (he committed suicide at 21).  Mr Toad’s preposterous behaviour matched Alastair’s, providing a welcome but controllable disruption into the Riverbank’s orderly Edwardians.

And the fifth and final book in this selection is Winnie-the-Pooh, by A A Milne, published in 1924.

The book was modelled on Milne’s son, Christopher Robin, and his toys.  The bear was called Winnie after London Zoo’s Canadian black bear, and Pooh was the name of a swan.  Christopher Milne, who struggled with his legacy (as anyone who saw the recent film “Goodbye Christopher Robin” will appreciate) later recalled his mother Daphne as the one who invented stories about toy animals.

I found all this information quite fascinating, and I hope you do too.  More next month!


visit my website www.lynnebenton.com

Monday, 13 September 2021

Old Friends by Sheena Wilkinson

My books and I have, as you will know if you tune in regularly on the 13th of the month, moved house. As well as a drastic cull, there’s been a big rearranging. The large bookcase in my sitting room, which once housed adult novels (E-S) has, for various reasons which even I consider too dull to share, been relocated in my bedroom and now houses some of my children’s books. These books used to be in various small bookcases around my old house – pony books in one, paperbacks in one, slightly more collectables in another. It’s surreal to see them all making friends in one place, and even stranger to have them in my bedroom where, in a new environment, they surround me like the old friends they are.  




 

I got a gorgeous hardback of The Mirror and the Light for my birthday last month, and I’m really looking forward to it, but so far it’s been too easy, in the tired half-hour before sleep, to reach for I Wanted a Pony or What Katy Did or First Term at Malory Towers.  What with moving house, wedding preparations, and trying to finish my current novel, I’ve been grateful for these easy pleasures. 

 

After the wedding next month, my bedroom will become the guest room. First Term at Malory Towers will not make it across the landing to the master bedroom, but I do hope it and its friends will sweeten the repose of any guests who chance our way.