Songs and Stories - Alan McClure

 

I have a wee summer resolution, which is to get back to writing songs, poetry and short stories, and to leave the novels until they’re positively shrieking at me to be written. Most of us know the value of playing with different forms as a means of extending stylistic skills, sidestepping writer’s block and just generally remembering to have fun with words.

By the time I left school I’d already been persuaded that writing was A Thing I Could Do, chiefly through feedback from assignments: I could turn in a decent essay, hazard a poem - you know the type of thing.  But the first writing I did without being asked, purely out of compulsion, was song-writing. I got my first guitar at seventeen and wrote my first song after learning my second chord, and that was my obsession for the next couple of decades. I’ve played alone and in bands, recorded sixteen albums (no, you won’t have heard of them!) and written commissioned pieces for various shows and projects. It was, and remains, one the chief joys in my life and, when all’s going well, is pretty effortless. If I’ve put my 10,000 hours into anything, it’s this, and I still feel there are infinite possibilities ahead.

I’ve been wondering whether song-writing has informed my approach to children’s writing and I thought I’d share some of the tips that have occurred to me. There’s a link to some of my songs at the bottom of this post, so you can check and see whether you think I’m someone whose tips could be of use to you!

 

1)      Language is inherently oral and musical. For me, songs are neither lyrics first nor music first – the lyrics should contain the music and be accepted specifically for their rhythm and singability. The corollary in a children’s novel seems to be, ‘if this reads well out loud you’re probably onto something’. There are so many levels to communication, but asking yourself ‘is this musical?’ will seldom lead you astray.

2)      Write for its own sake. Creating something through sheer delight in the process is always worthwhile. You may be able to make use of it in future and you may not, but the simple act of doing it strengthens your foundation every single time.

3)      Be inspired by all forms and traditions. The world of music exemplifies the value of creative cross-pollination – it would be hard to name a contemporary genre that doesn’t owe its roots to a whole number of different traditions. When you get in deep enough, the question ‘what sort of music do you play?’ becomes a bit meaningless and you feel as if you’re part of an indescribable whole. Easy genre definition is good for marketing but not, I suspect, for creative freedom – that pertains in the world of novel writing as well as songs, I think. On a similar note:

4)      Try a different instrument now and then. I’ve written most of my songs on guitar, but now and again that can feel like a bit of a rut and I fancy a crack at something different. Musical instruments just fascinate me and there’s not been one invented that I wouldn’t like a go on. As soon as I can get some kind of a melody on something it morphs into a song (that having been my habit for so long) – I’ve written songs on the piano, banjo, concertina, saxophone, glockenspiel, and they’re always notably different from the guitary ones. This compares to using different voices in fiction, whether narrative or character – a different voice should tell us something only it can tell, and the voices we use should have the capacity to surprise us.

5)      A simple idea can be framed beautifully, and a beautiful idea can be framed simply. It’s very possible to get bogged down in ornamentation and clever arrangement, and the results may be worth it, especially if the basic material is a little thin – however, there’s a particular joy in speaking to the most people possible, and that generally involves clarity and simplicity. The faster you get your ideas down, the more time there is to have new ideas: it’ll be up to you to decide which ones merit the polish and which ones have arrived fully formed.

 

I’ve no doubt most of these sound like no-brainers to most of you, but I do hope you’ll consider your creative go-to space when the long form is outside your grasp. Do you write a poem? Draw a picture? Play a round of golf? And how does it make its way onto your novels?

 Happy writing everyone, and may your procrastination be as productive as your hard work!

 You can hear a few of my songs here, if you have a notion to do so!

 https://soundcloud.com/alanmcclure70/albums

The Reluctant Rebel by Barbara Henderson - review by Alan McClure

 

The well-aired complaint that Scottish schoolchildren learn nothing of their country’s history, in common with many a teaching myth, doesn’t hold up under much scrutiny. In over a decade of teaching I’ve seen classes immersed in Medieval Scotland and the wars of independence; stone-age Scotland; Roman incursions; Scotland in the industrial age; and of course, the ubiquitous Life and Times of Robert Burns (every year, as regular as Christmas). The Curriculum for Excellence always had room for teachers with particular fascinations to pursue them in line with pupils’ interests, and this has led to many a creative and locally-relevant bit of historical topic work. Whether this empowering approach can long survive the post-Covid catch-up agenda remains to be seen: however, even in full flow I’ve seldom (in fact, never) come across a class taking the opportunity to tackle the Jacobite uprisings of the 18^th Century.

 

I’m happy to be corrected about this, but I suspect the period suffers from being so extremely complex. William Wallace and Robert the Bruce can be drawn in fairly bold strokes, often covering a multitude of sins – their contribution to Scottish history is something of a founding myth and took place so long ago that the issues of the time fade into obscurity against the bright, primary colours of A Good Story. Romans, Vikings and the builders of Skara Brae are even more obscure, their marks on the landscape enigmatic, the stuff of fairytales.

 

Bonnie Prince Charlie is a much harder nut to crack. Although the social upheaval that followed his rebellion is still clearly visible in the Scottish landscape - primarily in empty, ruin-strewn glens - he seems easy to pass over en-route to less confusing figures. The binary Scotland vs. England narratives of the 14^th Century don’t hold, despite regular attempts to make them do so, and ‘Government vs Jacobite’ needs a lot more backstory. The religious aspect of the Jacobite cause may also be a block for some teachers: sectarianism is a very live issue in a lot of schools around the country. The Prince himself plays a confusing role in the drama, the subject of a hundred songs of doomed romance but with a pretty chimeric claim to glory or influence.

 

Of course, ambiguity and nuance have the potential to make an excellent and enlightening class topic, so surely the Jacobite story is ripe for investigation. If so, Barbara Henderson has given any aspiring classroom historian exactly the starting point they need in her latest historical novel for children, The Reluctant Rebel.

 

This is the fourth of Henderson’s historical books that I’ve had the pleasure of reading and like Dark Water, The Siege of Caerlaverock and The Chessmen Thief it frames some very big-picture history in an accessible, personal story. The hero of the title is Archie, a 13-year-old who has witnessed the Highlanders’ crushing defeat at Culloden and, in the company of his devoutly Jacobite cousin Meg, manages to escape the post-battle carnage to return home to his widowed mother. The chaos and confusion of the time is cleverly evoked through Archie’s eyes: “So many souls. I taste bile at the back of my throat.”

 

Archie already has ample reason to be suspicious of the Prince’s campaign: his father was killed in the Battle of Prestonpans, leaving Archie in sole charge of his pregnant mother. As a consequence he is quick to conclude that the Cause is dead and that simple survival is the order of the day. This outlook is neatly contrasted by Meg’s unshakable loyalty – she can barely be persuaded to remove her white cockade, symbol of the Jacobite cause, even when the scrutiny of government troops is inevitable.

 

There is ample description of traversing bleak landscape in desperate circumstances, and the sense of uncertainty over who is a friend and who is an enemy haunts the story from the outset. Archie’s continued loyalty to clan over king is an intriguing glimpse of the old Highland order. However, the tale comes into sharp perspective at the appearance of Charles Edward Stewart himself.

 

Henderson is nothing if not a thorough researcher, and the Prince’s appearance in the tale matches his real-life escape route after the catastrophe of Culloden. In The Reluctant Rebel he is beautifully portrayed, a personally ambiguous figure – deeply charismatic, so much so that even Archie feels his doubts disappearing. This is no celebration of royal birth right, though: the reader never once forgets the carnage and horror that this man’s adventurism has caused, and his efforts to save his own skin seldom seem anything other than cowardly.

 

Students of the period will know, of course, of the Prince’s eventual escape, and perhaps of his ignominious waning years as an expatriate royal in the courts of Europe. The intensely personal perspective of our Reluctant Rebel brings the oft-told tale beautifully to life, and I fully expect this novel to become a fixture in upper primary classrooms around Scotland. This is the perfect springboard to a better understanding of a pivotal point in our country’s history.

Book buddying - knots and treasures - by Joan Haig

I've decided to return to my 'book buddies' mini reviews. I like gifting books in pairs. Sometimes I choose books that are wildly different to one another; at other times, I select books for their overlapping themes. As I book swap and buy secondhand books, not all are new releases. Every quarter I will be sharing a book buddy pair here.

These two books are beautiful. They are strikingly orange - perfect for summertime! The Armourer's House by Rosemary Sutcliff, originally published in 1951, invites readers into the Tudor world of nine-year-old Tamsyn who moves from the seaside to London, where unexpected adventure awaits. There's something enthralling about reading historical fiction that is itself tipping into a historical read. As with other Manderley Press titles, this one is expertly prefaced - here by Lara Maiklem, author of Mudlarking. The shoreside theme is a perfect match for Knots and How to Tie Them by Lucy Davidson, which does exactly what it says on the cover. More than this, it goes against the grain of marketing the art of knot tying chiefly to boys. Both books are tactile and filled with skills and story that will broaden young horizons.

The Armourer's House by Rosemary Sutcliff, illustrated by Isabel Greenberg

40 Knots and How to Tie Them by Lucy Davidson, illustrated by Maria Nilsson

Previous book buddies include...

The Race by Roy Peachey
Danny Chung does not do maths by Maisie Chan

Here are two impressive debuts aimed at untangling Chinese people and culture from their stereotypes. I'm not sure Danny Chung's family escapes the stereotyping, but Danny does - and his escapades are bright with wit, charm and (often delicious sounding) cultural detail. The Race is dual narrative, but the voice that dominates is Lili, a young girl already wearied by other people's inability to grasp her identity as British Chinese and adopted. While Chan and Peachey's writing, tone and narratives are nothing alike, both books are about competition, loyalty, classroom antics and grandmothers. They'll make young readers think outside boxes and will leave them smiling.

 

Jack's Well by Alan McClure
Beside the Ocean of Time by George Mackay Brown

In some ways, these books are nothing like each other. (They are certainly like nothing else.) Jack's Well is honest, clever and original and is worthy company for this most unusual and moving novel by Scottish literary hero Mackay Brown. Both are about a boy. Both are about daydreams, fate and building existential narratives. And, as if mirroring the themes in form, both take you outside the main body; there are stories within the story. I'd gift these book buddies to curious teen readers who like a bit of swashbuckling alongside their soul searching.

 

 

 

The Girl Who Lost Her Shadow by Emily Ilett
The Shark Caller by Zillah Bethell

The first two books I am buddying both speak the lyrical, rolling language of the sea. One is set in Scotland and the other in Papua New Guinea. These stories will take young readers on very different but equally ethereal and engaging adventures, while preparing them for (or helping them to) confront painful issues - namely, loss and coping with change. Both celebrate sisterhood. These book buddies are the literary equivelant of sea salt and buttery caramel - a winning combination.

 

 

I hope you've enjoyed my pairings. My next book buddy post will be in Autumn!

Callum and the Other by Alan McClure

 

My first post in this splendid blog, back in September, was about the tribulations of writing a sequel. I had just pressed ‘send’ on a manuscript which had eaten a huge proportion of my time and energy over lockdown, and was feeling reflective: would the book live up to its predecessor? Had I recaptured the voice? Had I repeated myself?

 

Well, I’m pleased to report that readers can judge for themselves this week, as Callum and the Other is finally published on April 15^th. The editing and proofing process was painless, thanks to the fabulous folks at Beaten Track, and generous friends have previewed the book very positively. Does that mean I’m free of pre-publication collywobbles? Of course not!

 

Every Scattered Author must know the strange sense of letting go that comes with publication. The story is no longer mine – it becomes the shared property of anyone who takes the time to read it. There are parts I think are accessible to most readers and parts that will only chime with some. Ideas that struck me as important may well be completely lost in the mix, while aspects that never occurred to me might reveal themselves to insightful readers. It’s a strange and fascinating process, and I’m excited to see where it goes.

 

I hadn’t planned to write a sequel, but now I can’t imagine not having done so. Callum and his friends had more to tell me, and I’m profoundly grateful for the chance to share the results – I hope they entertain, amuse and mystify the brave souls who dip in, and that I can be part of the story’s journey out into the big wide world!

 

Good luck to everyone with new stories to share this month.

 

https://www.beatentrackpublishing.com/?ref=callum

On Your Marks... by Alan McClure

 

Okay, children’s writers, listen up! It’s a tough world out there, and only the strong survive. If you’re to build an audience you have to pummel the competition into submission, and that’s not just other writers – it’s online gaming, bingeworthy box-sets, social media and Hollywood blockbusters. Stop pontificating and get to the good bits! Quick! You’re losing your audience with those pesky adjectives, that unnecessary character development, that ambitious vocabulary and those challenging concepts! Action! Action! Action! Words of one syllable, characters of one dimension, events with one interpretation – it’s your only hope! The modern child can’t be trusted with nuance or depth – who has time for that? Unfamiliar words? They close the book! Complex relationships? Boooring! If you’re not producing the literary equivalent of a strobe-light then those flighty young rascals will abandon you in a flash!

 

Oooft. And, breathe.

 

Poor kids. Their alleged inability to handle stories of the same interest, depth and complexity as the ones we all enjoyed as youngsters is used by bandwagon-jumping industry types to justify the worst possible practices. If there is an epidemic of deficient attention (which I heartily dispute), it would not be best addressed by making books ever shallower, more flippant or throwaway. We certainly don’t help to cure social media addiction in youngsters by making the experience of reading our books as superficial as the experience of scrolling through a newsfeed, nor do we wean them away from video games by plotting inexorably towards the inevitable end-of-level baddie. If writing that way is your bag then great, I’m sure it can be exciting and lucrative; but there has to be room for a different kind of experience in that magical relationship between writer and reader.

 

We have, in books, the astonishing luxury of space. A reader can fly through a book or savour every word, so let’s give them words to savour. The world is created in their mind, unique to them, using our wee marks on paper. I love movies and recognise video games as a genuine art form but they are much more prescriptive in terms of consumer experience than books in that they tend to leave little to the imagination. Not only that, but they are the product of dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of minds – a busy committee approach which for me depersonalizes the conversation between creator and audience.

 

I am daily heartened by the continued appearance of children’s books which take full advantage of the limitless possibilities of the medium; which respect young readers’ judgement and take seriously a writer’s responsibility to present bigger worlds than a reader’s own daily experience might provide. Many such books are penned by fellow members of this esteemed society! I fear, though, that such authors are continually forced to swim against the tide, to apologise for doing their jobs properly, to justify the passion they bring to an art form which some see purely as a business opportunity. I begrudge no-one the right to make a living, but seeing children’s literature as a commodity which must pitch itself against other unrelated artforms is to completely miss its value, its power.

 

If I were a tennis player eager to win over a set of football fans, I would attempt to do so by playing tennis to the absolute best of my ability, not by substituting the tennis ball for a football. We are not in the same game as directors, tech companies or games designers and we are under no obligation to try to mimic their media. We make books, and we should unapologetically proclaim their challenging magic and ensure that it is there to be found by those with a will to seek it.