Friday 31 July 2015

The Mad Girl and The Dream: by Steve Gladwin

Today we have a guest post from Steve Gladwin. Steve's background is in theatre, but he has recently published his first children's book: The Seven. (Ed)

After recently attending my first Charney* and running a drama workshop on character I decided to trace the origins of my ‘image work’ as a writer, performer and storyteller. So here we go...

The Mad Girl and The Dream first collided in spring 1996. At the time I was running a small theatre-in-education company in Bridgwater in Somerset. We rehearsed in the skittle alley of a pub called the West India House, (that was why all our productions were long and thin). We dosed up with Marion’s double egg and chips every lunchtime, which were a thing of beauty.

I had been asked by Wells Central Junior school whether we could do a Tudor Day for them. I said of course we could - having no idea how to set about it. What they really wanted, it turned out, was a fifty minute Midsummer Night’s Dream: we were currently touring the full length version of the play. We decided to begin in the morning with a new invention of mine called a ‘Potted History of The Tudors’, (basically an excuse to play all six wives with different wigs and combine facts with terrible jokes), which also left room for two workshops. In the morning we had the Armada, with all the excitement of ‘cut and pluck’, the fire ships and the extraordinary fate of the Rata Santa Maria Encoronada. (Look it up!) After the play itself, we had St John’s Fair: a recreation of a Tudor Fair complete with all its denizens.

Meanwhile I was left with the tricky problem of telling a Shakespeare play in no more than fifty minutes. Not an easy task...

Luckily it was the play’s trickiest scene, Act Three Scene Two, which provided an unexpected solution. Because it is so complicated, I suggested showing the complex moonlit love life of Hermia, Lysander, Helena and Demetrius through eight stages and still images. There must have been some magic hanging around in the skittle alley that day, because one thing led seamlessly to another and we realised that what worked for one scene might also work for the whole play. With about thirty five pictures under our belt we had tremendous fun running them all first forwards and then, hilariously, backwards. We were ready for our lunchtime egg and chips. 

Thus was born a method of theatre and storytelling which I have used ever since. It can be passed on to anyone, and now I'm passing it on to you.

It’s very simple and here it is. You begin by breaking up the play or story into a series of still images or tableau. To those you add any basic dialogue you need. So in the first scene with the warring fairies your dialogue might go like this.

Oberon      Ill met by moonlight proud Titania.

Titania.      What jealous Oberon. Fairies skip hence. I have foresworn his bed and company.

And so on.

Armed with the basic pictures and dialogue, you can now add a narrator to bridge the gaps between the two and move the story forward. Then the magic happens: you can freeze one scene/tableau and transform it into the next. The most memorable example of this was during our two hander of Cinderella, ‘Ashputtel’, where Hannah as the spirit of the dead mother in the tree ‘handed down’ the dress to ‘Sue as Ashputtel. Immediately afterwards this image changed to the two sisters squabbling to grab the royal invitation.

The rude mechanicals from the Brothers Tales production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream circa 1996.

The great thing about the method is that you can use it anywhere. In storytelling, for example, where it is often called ‘the bones’. Or in the creation of your own plot by visualising those pictures - and crucially, the transformation from one to the other. It is also an excellent method to use with children and adults who struggle with language and respond to a more visual medium.

But let’s return to that day and St John's Fair, where I first met not only the Mad Girl but also a whole host of other Elizabethan ne’er do wells. Our workshops followed an apprentice goldsmith called Watt and his new wife Jane as they travelled through the fair on their way to a new life. Like most things in Tudor England, it didn’t have a particularly happy ending. A year later a pregnant Jane returned to the country alone leaving Watt rotting in a debtors' prison.

But it did introduce me to a whole host of infectious new characters, such as the dummerer, the palliard, the ruffler, the prigger prancer and best of all, the Tom and Bess O’ Bedlams. These two used to pretend to be mad - stinking and screaming so much that people would pay to get rid of them. Bess has recently muscled her way back into my life, demanding that I tell her story. I’ll leave you to find out more about the others and maybe tell theirs. 

Just make sure you think of them in pictures as well as words!


*Editor's note: 'Charney' is the annual summer conference/retreat of the Scattered Authors' Society, which hosts this blog. Steve did a workshop there this year based on the process he outlines in this post. Oh, how silly we all were!




Thursday 30 July 2015

Why writing novels is a bit like running in the rain – Lari Don

I run. Not often enough, or fast enough, or far enough, but I do run occasionally. Running gives me useful time to think about stories, as well as making me feel better about the hours I spend sitting on my bottom at the keyboard.

But there is another connection between running and writing. Motivating myself to get up and go out for a run is quite similar to motivating myself to write.

No-one makes me run. I don’t enter races. I don’t have an immediate goal for my running. I’m not answerable to anyone else for running. I don’t have to tell anyone I’m going out for a run, or prove afterwards that I did run. No-one is checking that I’m running. If I decided not to bother going for a run, no-one would know. And if I decided during a run that I just couldn’t be bothered running any more, and sat down in the middle of the path and sang a little song instead (or simply walked home at a comfortable pace, nibbling chocolate bars on the way) no-one would know, no-one would care and no-one would be able to criticise.

Except me. I’d know, and I’d feel guilty.

All of which is remarkably similar to writing a novel.

Novels take a VERY LONG TIME to write. The deadlines start off ridiculously far away. And if I didn’t sit down and get on with it, if I chose to sit about singing, nibbling chocolate, or even going out for a run rather than writing, no-one would know or notice, until it was far too late.

Except me. I’d know, and I’d feel guilty.

So, even though I don’t run as often and as far and as fast I should, I still do it.

And, even though I suspect I don’t sit down and write as often or as fast as I should, I still do it. Even months or years before the deadline, I do it. Regularly, steadily, and moving the story forward all the time.

Why? How do we motivate ourselves to get our writing shoes on and keep pacing through the story, without the urgency of an immediate deadline or an editor at our shoulder?

Is that why so many writers like to tell the world how many words they’ve written each day on Facebook or Twitter? Because otherwise, there is no-one but ourselves to push, encourage, cajole and motivate? Because otherwise, writing a novel is like going out for a run in the rain, in the dark, with no finish line in sight?

I don’t share word counts or small writing victories on social media. I tend to keep that part of my writing fairly quiet and private. But then, I like to run on my own. I don’t like to run in a group. And actually, I’ve always enjoyed running in the rain.

Lari Don is the award-winning author of 22 books for all ages, including a teen thriller, fantasy novels for 8 – 12s, picture books, retellings of traditional tales and novellas for reluctant readers.
Lari’s website 
Lari’s own blog 
Lari on Twitter 
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Wednesday 29 July 2015

Competitions! - John Dougherty

I love chocolate, don't you? And especially, I love fairly traded chocolate.

I'm also very fond of poetry, so you can imagine how pleased I was when the splendidly-bearded Philip Ardagh suggested to those lovely people at Divine Chocolate that they might ask me to join the judging panel for this year's Divine Poetry Competition.

Before you get all excited - the closing date has passed, the judging has happened, and I've eaten quite a lot of free chocolate. But I thought you might like to see some videos of me reading the winning entries.

Here's the winner in the 7-11 category, by Connor Hellings:



Here's the 12-16 winner, by Lloyd Hunter: 


And here's the winner in the adult category, by Philip Howard:



If I seem a bit tired and emotional as I do any of the readings, it's partly because it was an INCREDIBLY hot day, and I filmed these videos straight after the judging process; and partly because one of the things I was looking for in the poetry was a bit of an emotional kick - and I found that. I was genuinely moved by some of what I read. The line in Connor's poem about riches being clean water and the chance of an education still makes my eyes water a little.

Anyway: I hope you enjoy the poetry - and though I don't normally advertise on ABBA, I hope you'll pop into your local Oxfam and buy some Divine chocolate, too. Not only is it extremely tasty; the company is owned by the farmers who grow the cocoa that goes into it, so it's an unusually fair form of fair trade.

Oh - and keep an eye out for next year's competition!

While we're on the subject of competitions - if you know any children who would like to be an actual character in a real book, I'm currently working on the fifth Stinkbomb & Ketchup-Face, and we're running a competition with that as a prize! More details here:

http://www.oxfordowl.co.uk/for-home/stinkbomb-competition

___________________________________________________________________

John's first collection of poetry will be published by Otter-Barry Books next year.




His latest book, Stinkbomb & Ketchup-Face and the Bees of Stupidity, illustrated by David Tazzyman and published by OUP, was published on July 2nd.













Tuesday 28 July 2015

On not trusting your future self - Clémentine Beauvais

I’m writing this thanks to Cold Turkey, my faithful Internet-blocking software. I’ve used it for many years, and would not have finished any novel nor my thesis without it. For years, at 9 o’clock every morning, I’d switch it on for three and a half hours, shutting down all the websites I didn’t want to go on - leaving JStor and suchlike accessible - and then switch it on again at 2pm for another four hours.

Recently, though, I’ve had to upgrade to the Pro version. You see, it was getting increasingly difficult to actually switch on Cold Turkey at 9 o’clock, or again at 2pm. I’d let 9am go past, and then suddenly it was 9.13, and then you might as well wait till 9.30 because it’s a round number.

Now, with Cold Turkey Pro, I can schedule my whole week, or indeed month, in advance, and lock that schedule into place. Tomorrow’s Clementine can’t cheat. Ha!

Yep, it’s ridiculous that I paid 14 quid to prevent my sly, lazy future self from going on the Internet instead of working. In a way, I’m doing her a service: the satisfaction of getting into a ‘flow’, of writing or reading for hours on end, is always there, faithfully. But it mostly shows that I absolutely don't trust her to wait for that elusive second marshmallow; I know it won't be present enough to her greedy mind when the first marshmallow is sitting there looking lonely on the table.

We’re engaged, it seems, in a exhausting arms race: the world is getting better at distracting us, and in response it’s also getting better at providing weapons against distraction. Self-discipline is now dependent on a heavy apparatus of self-binding devices and pieces of software; on temptation-bundling; on wilfully not-buying certain items.

Ever since I was a young teenager, I’ve felt this arms race slowly growing. I’ve always been pretty self-disciplined, having gone through a stringent educational system with stacks of homework and a holy terror of teachers. 

But of course at the time the world didn’t offer much resistance to my seriousness. When I was in high school, my Nokia 3410 was the only distraction in the library, apart from handsome boys who, unfortunately, didn’t find me an equivalent source of distraction at all. It wasn’t hard to focus; plus we were scared, and being scared makes one very self-disciplined.

Then at university, I wasn’t scared anymore because British education isn’t psychotic like French education and terrifying teenagers into doing work isn’t considered the right approach. There I signed up for Facebook, but I only had a few friends. Then more. It was becoming tricky to focus, but at least when I took my computer to the library there was no Internet.

Then wifi appeared, and gradually became available pretty much everywhere.

When I started my PhD, it had become unmanageable. I was far from the only one who struggled; in fact I was probably among the more self-disciplined, thanks to the aforementioned years of French torture education. Soon Cold Turkey and its equivalent for Mac, Self-Control, became talked-of among students as you would talk about some kind of miracle medicine.

Like me, my friends were engineering increasingly complex traps to commit their future selves to work. It’s interesting to see how normal these strategies of trapping-your-future-self has become. We’ve learnt to live in constant suspicion that tomorrow’s selves, next week’s selves, will betray our present selves. They’re not to be trusted. 

One of my colleagues asks his wife to go to work with his (smart)phone when he needs to spend the day writing an article. Another has never installed broadband in her new studio flat. Another has returned to pen and paper. My own self-binding strategy has been to resist buying a smartphone; I still don’t have one.

All of these strategies certainly work, but leave us with the nagging feeling that they only help self-discipline in the same way as stabilisers help you cycle. Taking away all of these layers of self-commitment, I could probably continue to function as if they were there for a while; just like I’d probably carry on for a bit if the stabilisers suddenly vanished.

But I’d do so with a vague, unpleasant hunch that it would be extremely easy to fall to the side. And here my future self might look back and ask: 'You idiot! Why the hell did you never actually teach me to cycle?'

_____________________________________

Clementine Beauvais writes in French and English. She blogs here about children's literature and academia.

Monday 27 July 2015

A place to write by Lynn Huggins-Cooper


It’s summer, and the long afternoons and change of routine for many of us leads us to read outside – by the pool on holiday maybe, or in the garden. What I like to do though is write outside. I have created several little nooks in my garden, and lurk there under trees, scribbling away in a notebook with a cup of tea on the table and a dog at my feet.

I love writing in my study, surrounded by my books, but there is something about being outside that makes me feel somehow more alive, and more connected with the world. I am very lucky – behind my garden, there is a field. Beyond the field is a huge forest. It is 360 hectares, and has been a woodland since ancient times. Most of the very old trees were felled in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to build ships and for building bridges, but some still remain. Many conifers were planted for wood, and parts of the forest are dark and still, like fairy tale woods. I like to take my books and sit among the trees and write.

I also love writing on the beach. My favourite place is at Cullercoats Bay, on an outcrop of rocks overlooking the ocean. I am writing a story about a sea witch, and the spray of the waves and the taste of salt on my lips helps me to ‘enter’ the story.



I have always liked to write in places that inspire me. When I was writing Walking with Witches, I wrote in the fantastic library at The Literary and Philosophical Society, where part of the story is set; I also wrote at Newcastle Castle Keep where the women accused of witchcraft were imprisoned. When I was writing a ghost story set at a railway station, I rode round on the trains, taking in the atmosphere as I made notes.


If you like to write – and you probably do, if you are reading this blog – think about stepping away from your laptop. PC or tablet this week and taking an old-fashioned notebook into the Great Outdoors – you might just find yourself truly inspired!

Sunday 26 July 2015

To the Lighthouse - Julie Sykes

I’ve always been inspired by places and Cornwall is one of my all time favourites. I try and visit at least twice a year.

I’ve recently come back from a fabulous week spent in St Ives. The weather was warm and sunny and there were lots of opportunities for long, inspirational walks. I particularly wanted to visit Gwithian and to walk along the beach opposite that lighthouse. You know, the one that inspired that book. I also wanted to go on the cliffs and watch the seals in their special place.

The National Trust owns the beach. It’s set at the far end of St Ives Bay. It’s a bit of a walk so you have to make an effort to visit. It’s well worth it. In the words of the National Trust, this is ‘a vast sandy beach, high cliffs and dramatic coves.’

Imagine my sense of fury and sadness when peering into a little cave I found this.



The people responsible for this mess must have intended to picnic here. I’m sure they came for the spectacular views, the peace and solitude.



I hope they had a good time.

But why did they leave the place in such a state? There’s no easy way to say this. People who left this mess, you are DIRTY.

Don’t tell me that there wasn’t a bin. Why put a bin in such a beautiful place? If you bring stuff with you then it’s your responsibility to take it home again. If you can’t be bothered then go some place else. Somewhere built up with bins.

Litter isn’t just an unsightly nuisance. It poses a real danger to the wildlife. Every year animals the world over suffer injuries and even death as a direct result of rubbish.

I wonder what sort of book Virginia would have written if she’d found this on her way to the lighthouse.












Saturday 25 July 2015

The Girl Who Wanted to be a Rabbit by Tamsyn Murray

I want to tell you a story. It's a true story and it begins in 2010, the year the first Stunt Bunny book was published. I was in a Waterstones doing a book signing and I was approached by a young girl and her family. The girl picked up a copy of Showbiz Sensation and started to read. I chatted to her parents while she studied the cover and, when she'd finished reading, her mum nudged her. "Tell her what you want to be when you grow up."

I smiled, expecting the girl to say she wanted to be a writer. But she surprised me. "I want to be a rabbit," she said.

We chatted for a bit about how she might achieve that (eating lots of carrots, working on her hopping, growing her ears long) and then her dad took her off to look around the shop while her sister and mum secretly got me to dedicate a book to her. "It's her birthday soon," her mum said.

They went away with the book. Time went by and I got an email from Rabbit Girl's mum. Stunt Bunny had been a ginormous hit and had become the first book the girl had read independently. A little while later,  I got another email: she'd gone up a reading level at school. Around Christmas, I received a Stunt Bunny cover design and heard she was writing a book to go with it. And then, in July 2011, I got another message: Rabbit Girl got her Key Stage 1 SATs results and her reading score had gone up one whole level in a year.

I can't tell you how proud I was, both for the small part Stunt Bunny and I had played in Rabbit Girl's achievement and for her own huge triumph. But mostly, I was over the moon that she had become a reader.

I swapped occassional tweets with Rabbit Girl's mum over the following four years, finding out what she was reading now and how the family were doing. A few weeks ago, I got a message from Rabbit Girl that made my heart sing. She'd taken her Key Stage 2 tests and she'd been given a Level 5a in Reading.

I think it's hard sometimes, when you're mired in the business of writing, to remember the eventual purpose of books: to be read. I know that as a Writing for Children teacher, I exhort my students to keep their reader in mind all the time. So Rabbit Girl's latest message served a double purpose. It reminded me of part of the reason I write - to entertain a reader - and also of the power of the right book, in the hands of the right child, at the right time. If I only get one message like Rabbit Girl's in my life, all those times I struggled and agonised and battled to find the right words will have been worth it.

Friday 24 July 2015

If you have room for another bit of YALC love - Liz Kessler

Being an author is, amongst other things, an absolute privilege. Sometimes we forget this. The times we forget it are generally:
  • When we’re feeling completely stuck on a plot point that we can’t resolve.
  • When we’ve just received a huge email from our editor with all her notes on our manuscript and don’t know where to start.
  • When we have a deadline in three days and still have a third of the book to write.
  • When we keep seeing people’s posts on twitter about how many amazing five-star reviews they’ve had and we still haven't forgotten that one-star review from six years ago. 
Generally, though, we tick along quite nicely, being aware of how lucky we are to have a job that is about sitting looking out of the window staring into space and making up stories. Or at least I do.

But then there are the times that make us stop, look around and seriously ask how on earth we got to be so lucky that THIS is what we do for a JOB!

Last weekend’s YALC (Young Adult Literary Convention) was one of those times.

A typical moment of authors and bloggers getting together and behaving very sensibly 
The weekend was an opportunity for writers, readers, bloggers and anyone else with an interest in YA books to make contact with each other. Authors spoke on panels ranging from talks about feminism and LGBT issues to mental health and Minecraft. There were writing workshops, editing workshops, 1-1 sessions with agents. There was a Harry Potter party, a Hunger Games quiz, a bloggers’ breakfast. In short, it was an absolute feast of YA wonderfulness.

Here's me in a Double Laureate Sandwich with outgoing Malorie Blackman, and brand new Chris Riddell
I attended YALC last year as a paying customer. This year I was over the moon to be on one of the panels, and I felt genuinely honoured to be given the opportunity to talk to the audience of readers, teachers, librarians and – well, yes, a fair few Wonder Women and Spidermen, and possibly a Thor or two. Not to mention more hair colours than you get in a Caran D'ache pencil box.

The gorgeous and fabulous Yael Tischler, bookseller extraordinaire
I was on the LGBT panel, and was SO proud to be there and be openly talking about LGBT issues in YA books. Together with James Dawson, Lisa Williamson and Den Patrick, and beautifully hosted by Julia Bell, I like to think we rocked the place with LGBTQ fabulousness for an hour or so.

James and me in our Stonewall t. shirts
After our panel, I had possibly (who am I kidding? Definitely!) one the best experiences of book signing I’ve ever had. Not because it was the longest queue I’ve ever had. It wasn’t. Not because I got paid to sign books. I didn’t. Even if the actors in the other part of the convention downstairs did. (Publishers take note: we’re missing a trick here!) (Joking, by the way. I would never want to charge for signing books, and I’m sure no other authors would either.)

It was the best queue ever because of the utter warmth that spilled from it. Each person in the queue had a story. Most of them ended up with a hug as well. One girl told me that she’d found my book just as she’d started having feelings for another girl and it had helped her deal with what was happening. A mum told me that she was buying my book for her daughter who has anxiety issues and we talked about how tough this is. Two boys were still buzzing after their first Pride. A few older teenage girls told me how they had loved my Emily Windsnap books when they were younger and were excited that I was writing for their age group now. One of these had tears as well as a hug!

The magnificent Nina Douglas, who, amongst the MANY wonderful things she did all weekend, organised Most Emotional Signing Queue Ever with her usual brand of brilliance
And then there were the two girls who had met in the queue and by the time they got to me, had asked each other out! This was a definite first for me. And an absolute privilege. (Don’t forget, ladies. I want a front row seat if there’s a wedding!)

The moment I realised Read Me Like A Book had brought together its first couple. Photo courtesy of Jo Cotterill
I can honestly say that I have never been at a festival where I have felt such an outpouring of love – for books, for authors, for the whole YA community. Even authors who were there as punters had readers coming up to them asking them to sign their books.

My partner in crime for much of the weekend, Keris Stainton, who got mobbed by someone wanting her to sign a book approximately once every five minutes!
And finally, there was silliness. Lots and lots of it. Here is my contribution to that aspect of the weekend, courtesy of the lovely Michelle from Fluttering Butterflies blog, and featuring a cameo performance from the somewhat bonkers but also lovely Jo Cotterill.


Whether I get invited to be on a panel again or not, I shall be putting YALC in the diary for as many years as it runs – and I would urge anyone who loves YA to do the same. A massive, massive thank you to Booktrust and all the organisers, and I hope that you all gave yourselves at least a day off and a large martini this week! 

See you next year!




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Thursday 23 July 2015

I went to YALC and this is what I found out – Jess Vallance

If I’m going to be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to YALC at all. (The Young Adult Literature Convention. More about what that is here if you don't know.)

Not because I didn’t think it would be well run or because the programme of speakers didn’t sound interesting or because I didn’t want to meet book fans and publishers and authors. But because like any self-respecting introvert, my natural impulse on a Saturday afternoon is to sit at home in my pants and watch MasterChef repeats, not to get up early to go and spend a day hanging out with strangers in odd clothes in a windowless conference room.

But I reasoned with myself that these things are usually better once you get there, so I sourced a last minute ticket and off I went.

And it WAS better than I thought. In fact, I had a brilliant day.

Lots of other people have done proper, detailed round-ups of the events – people who took part in more of the official programme than me – but this is what I took from it:

Book people work really bloody hard

All the people there in a professional or organisational capacity – I think they were mainly publicists and Book Trust people – were clearly working their absolute lanyards off.

It was the unrelenting cheerfulness and enthusiasm that really struck me.

‘So great to meet you!’ they’d say for the three thousandth time that day.

‘Oh my god, this book is so WONDERFUL!’ they’d say, about a hundred different books to a million different people, before delivering an articulate and engaging pitch – and without needing even a moment to think ‘Now which bloody book is this one again?’

But the smiles never fade. NEVER.

I prodded some of them – I was curious: ‘You’re tired, aren’t you? You’d rather be at home. You’d rather be in a pub garden with a nice dog. You don’t even like people. Or books.’

‘Oh no,’ they’d say. ‘I am a bit tired but we’re having a great time.’

That is a truly admirable level of professionalism.

Niceness probably did trump debate but that’s OK

I don’t think YALC is really about controversy or rigorous debate, but I don’t think it pretends – or wants – to be.

There was a bit of good-natured disagreement on a few of the panels but largely the conclusion was that we are all on the same side. I think this is for two reasons:

From what I’ve witnessed, people in children’s publishing just ARE on the same side a lot of the time, in terms of points of view.

But more importantly than that, I think people go to YALC to:

  1. Buy books
  2. Sell books
  3. Meet people – even make friends.


All of these activities tend to be rather more successful in a friendly, inclusive, non-confrontational atmosphere (especially as us bookish types tend to be a little on the shy side).

YALC’s got that atmosphere nailed. I’ve never been so friendly to so many strangers in one day. (Might’ve been the gin).

I think it could perhaps be exciting to see some truly divisive opinions being batted about at some point – I think there probably are some of those around, hiding somewhere – but probably not at YALC.

Twitter is a magnificent thing

I was sceptical about Twitter not that long ago – I thought it was a lot of noisy attention-seekers broadcasting pointless info (and that probably is true of all of us from time to time) – but I’ve got quite into it in the last six months or so because it is a genuinely nice way to talk to people with similar interests, who you just wouldn’t meet otherwise.

And I think Twitter makes all the difference to YALC. I don’t know how many times the words, ‘Oh yes, I know you from Twitter’ were used that weekend but I do know that straight away it makes a potentially awkward situation easier.

So thanks everyone who organised, appeared or had anything to do with it at all. I had fun. And so did everyone else judging by the number of exclamation marks in my Twitter feed this week.  


Twitter: @jessvallance1

Wednesday 22 July 2015

Authors giving work experience - does it work? by Nicola Morgan


(Adapted from my own blog, as it's relevant here and I'm not a little fraught.)

Writers are increasingly asked to offer work experience to school pupils and young people increasingly have to ask for it. Some of you might have wondered what you'd do. One writer-friend of mine was contacted by a young person who said, "Nicola Morgan says..." as though I know something about the whole thing. Well, as you can imagine, I have some thoughts...

For example, recently, a 13 year-old girl, Iona, came to me for a week. I nearly said no but I'm so glad I didn't. Although I'd had an excellent experience once before, I had vowed never to do it again because after that excellent one I had two instances of agreeing to offer work experience, spending a great deal of time working out what we would do during the week or fortnight and then being let down at the last minute. I also had several people contact me in extremely lacklustre ways, along the lines of "I have to get some work experience - can you give me some?" Which is not likely to work.

It's not easy for a writer to offer work experience. Most of our work is in our heads and no one else can do it. It's hard to find things that someone else can help with. And there's not much room for two in my office! But I like helping young people and I like learning from them, which was why I offered that original work experience a few years ago.

Still, for the reasons above, I'd decided not to say yes again. Until Iona came along.

It was her email that did it. She was excited, bright, had done her research, gave enthusiastic reasons for being keen to work with me. She ticked all the boxes and pressed all the buttons. So I said yes.

Then came the forms from her school. Health and safety; employer's insurance; impossible things for me to fill in. So I phoned the school and said I couldn't do it because I couldn't fill in the forms. I wasn't an employer, for a start. And I didn't have time or inclination to jump through hoops.

However, where there's a will there's a way and we agreed that it would be a private arrangement between me and Iona's mother. Luckily, Iona's mother was a model of common sense, and so was I, so we got this sorted in a sensible way.

Iona was a complete and utter delight. So easy to have around; independent; very keen to learn; said yes to everything; brilliant with You-Tube and a camera... 

What did we do?
  • Iona helped with ideas for a novel I was stuck on. 
  • We had a meeting with my publicist and discussed various upcoming projects, including marketing for Brain Sticks.
  • We both had some writing tuition from Lucy Coats - that was fun!
  • Iona contributed to an article on author events which Duncan Wright, school librarian, and I were writing for the School Librarian Journal. She had to give her viewpoint as an audience member and she made some excellent points, one of which I've already used in my own events.
  • She interviewed me and filmed me, putting together a video; she also took some other footage which we're going to use in the future. I regret to say that she laughed at my appalling acting skills, but I'll forgive her for that because it was hard not to laugh.
  • She helped me get to grips with iMovie...
  • We assessed a picture book manuscript that a Pen2Publication client had sent me (with the client's permission)
  • We talked about and worked on all the editing processes of a book's journey
  • She had to assess a revision website I'd been asked to give an opinion on - our opinion was not very positive!
  • She wrote a stunning email to a company for me.
  • I gave her some advice on a piece she was writing for school; and her revised version was SO good. But, more importantly, when she wrote that email for me, it was a brilliant email because she'd taken on board everything I'd taught her. As Lucy said, "she soaks up information like a sponge."
  • She spent a day with literary agent Lindsey Fraser.
Iona was so excellent and so nice (nice is very important when you're working one-to-one) that I've offered her paid work in the holidays. She's coming with me to the Aberdour festival, where she will help me with my events and do more filming. She's also coming to the Edinburgh Book Festival with me, to two of these events. And then she's going to put together a new film for me: A Day in the Life Of an Author. I can't wait! Because, although she taught me how to use iMovie, she's still a million times better and faster than me.

Iona should be very proud indeed. She will go far!

Tips for young people who are thinking of asking for work experience with an author:
  • Research the author and show that you know what they do and why you want to work for them.
  • Be very enthusiastic and polite. Even use a dollop of flattery... *cough*
  • Show that you understand that work experience with an author is unusual and difficult; show that you want to help as well as learn.
  • If the author says a polite no, write a polite reply. They might have something for you in the future.
But the big question is WHY? Young people, ask yourself why you want to do this? What do you hope to learn and what do you think would be interesting. And for authors, why would you want to do this? For me, it's simple: I like giving opportunities for talented and eager teenagers to push themselves. I get a buzz from that.

Good luck to both parties! It can work really well.

Do take a look at Iona's short video interview here and you'll see why I say she's good:



I will be at the Edinburgh Book Festival often between Aug 15th and 31st - do let me know if you'd like to meet up. How about coming to the event I'm doing with Cathy Rentzenbrink (author of the heart-wrenching The Final Act of Love and also director of the Quick Reads charity) and Charles Fernyhough, psychologist and expert in the neuroscience of reading. Our event is about the science of reading and I'll be talking about the science behind Readaxation and the power of reading for pleasure and wellbeing. Email me: n@nicolamorgan.co.uk

Tuesday 21 July 2015

Gardens, props and parties - the life of a children's book writer!


Props and Parties






I had no idea that writing books could bring such fun into my life. I had felt very worried about school visits - but I hadn't realised that a few props and a lovely, enthusiastic audience can make a performance so enjoyable for a basically shy person!


I also, after writing a post about being paid, am proud to say that last week I did a PAID GIG for a Federation of Children's Book Groups party! My travel expenses were paid, I was paid generously for a 40 minute presentation, had strawberries and cream in a beautiful home and garden and was picked up and taken to the train station. It was absolutely lovely.

Oh yes - and I sold and signed copies of all my books. And I didn't even have to lug them with me - they organised a book shop.


And the best bit? Meeting the children and chatting to them and listening to their answers to my  questions about my books and writing. One boy definitely should be a writer. I asked them how did they think a writer feels when they write a book but nobody wants to publish it. Lots of hands went up and empathetic answers like 'sad' 'upset' 'worried' were all given - but one Year 6 boy said 'Determined'. I said 'determined about what?' and he said 'to send it out again. And you might get more ideas about writing too'.

I was also very happy that when you get a mixed bunch of 15-20 children of varying ages from 3 to 10/11, given the right props you can still get everyone to whistle like blackbirds, sprinkle dew or paint rainbows.



Then, for a best friend's 50th birthday party - I did it all again…





It turns out grownups like painting rainbows too!



It seems to me that props have turned me into a raving extrovert. Give me a beautifully illustrated book by Rosalind Beardshaw, some coloured scarves and a pair of wings and I can even teach a room of  adults to fly.



So I wonder if I can work the other way round? I wonder if I start with the props will a book emerge?










Meet Sebastian - my recently acquired vintage puppet - amazingly reduced in price because of a crack in his nose, a crack which made me love him even more! He is adorable - more a friend than a prop.


Now - what stories and performances will follow…?


I think I'm hooked….

Monday 20 July 2015

Back a Ways - Joan Lennon

I'm just home from an amazing week tutoring at Moniack Mhor and it was fabulous and inspiring and fun and funny - and knackering.  Really, truly, bone-deep knackering.  I love the teaching side of being a writer but it doesn't half take it out of you, right?  

You can probably guess where I'm going here - I'm trying to say I'm too pooped to properly post.  So instead, with your indulgence, I am turning to self-plagiarization.  I've returned to the first thing I posted on An Awfully Big Blog Adventure in 2008.  Back a ways, I admit, but I stand by my words.  (It was titled "Bizarre Trouser Accident" and if you've got the time, the comments are well worth visiting!)  

"I love my job. I remember telling somebody once I was happy and they replied, "Is there something specific or are you just unaware of the facts?" The same thing could be said about saying I love writing. (Don't worry, I am NOT unaware of the facts, and I whinge plenty about them.) But there are MANY specific things about being a writer that make me want to hug myself with delight (or anyone passing within reach - disconcerting for strangers). And one of those things is how often I get to grin - and giggle - and, on occasion and not always appropriately, belly-laugh - at the felicities of language, and call it work.

As when, for example, a friend wrote to tell me that she'd been laid up because of "a bizarre trouser accident." Poor woman was on crutches and all I could do was snicker and think "what a great phrase - I HAVE to put that in a book!" 

Or another who said she didn't care, she intended "to irritate the conkers out of somebody." 

Or a son's long-term belief that the word "ostentatious" was actually spelt "Austentatious" and meant "thinking you're a better writer than you really are" - the same son who recently meant to say "Gilbert and Sullivan" but came out with "Sodom and Gomorrah" ...

Anyone could delight in such things, but only a writer - or perhaps a stand-up comic - could classify them as research. Some of them are just too gorgeously off-the-wall to be shoe-hornable into fiction - nobody would believe them! - but I live in hope that some day, somehow, I'll find a use for them all.


And, in the meantime, they are one of the reasons I love my job."


And I still do.

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

Sunday 19 July 2015

The Things We Do For Books - Lucy Coats

I used to be a shy, retiring creature, slinking round the edges of parties, using the larger flower arrangements as camouflage to hide behind. Until I became an author, that is, at which point I realised there was another way of hiding in plain sight - and that I could have fun doing it. 

Dressing up as your characters means you can put on a whole different persona, and behave entirely outrageously - because that's your job. I first realised this when I put on a pirate suit and became my alter ego, Lucy, Pirate Queen of the Seven Salty Seas (it's amazing what a bit of lace and a ribbon on a hat will do to me, let alone a full double-breasted red frock coat). I find it gives me the courage to talk in a ridiculous accent, play the tambourine and even sing. I regularly get asked where I've tied up my ship - and where I've hidden my treasure, especially when I'm travelling to an event by bus. 


Today, I'm taking it to a whole other level, and going full-on Ancient Egyptian priestess, blessing the crowds of YA booklovers at YALC (Young Adult Literature Convention) with postcards, and chatting about my new teen novel, Cleo. I won't be alone - YALC is part of Comic-Con London, and last year it was full of Wookies, Princess Fionas, assorted Jedi Knights, and unnameable creatures from the beyond. But why am I doing it, when this is not a school visit? It's a long story. Suffice to say I promised our esteemed ex Children's Laureate, Malorie Blackman, that I wouldn't let her be the only author there cosplaying this year. 

I hope I don't regret it. No doubt there will be pictures. I may even come back and post some here. Be afraid.



Saturday 18 July 2015

Empathy - Part of a writer's toolkit -Linda Strachan

Getting inside the heads of our characters, regardless of age, sex, race or life experience is one of the challenges for a writer of fiction.  We need to feel for our characters and get under their skin if the way we portray them is to have any meaning and touch our readers. This takes a certain amount of empathy. As writers we must not only look at the people around us, but try to understand what they might be feeling.

I came across an amazing series of photos recently on NZ Aged Care Nursing community Facebook page.  Each photo showed an elderly person in front of a mirror.   The image in the mirror was a young version of themselves, often dressed for work as nurses, teachers, firemen or scientists, making us look at their lives - not their old age. Take a look they are fascinating.    NZ Aged Care Nursing community page

As writers we also need to look beyond what we see on the surface, and try to understand what led our characters to where they are.  To think about their experiences as a child, as they grow up, and see what made them who they are, and what choices they might have made to get to here and now.


 It got me thinking about the young me,when I was a child of 5.

When writing  for young children, whether consciously or not, we try to get back to what it felt like to be that age ourselves, remembering our own life experience. It gives us the chance to go back and remember what worried us, what was fascinating, or scary.





Remembering what it was like to be a teen or in my early twenties...  wondering - what I would tell the young me now, if I could go back?


Will I look back at myself in years to come, and wonder what else I could have done, what other road I might have taken?




The photos on that facebook page also reminded me of a story I heard a long time ago, on the radio,  called Lost for Words. It was written by Deric Longden and was subsequently made into a film with Pete Postlethwaite and Thora Hird.


It tells of how he looked after his ageing mother as she took a series of strokes. Humorous, touching and at times very sad, it stuck in my mind.

He visits her at home and wonders why her plants are dying. She tells him she'd been told to 'keep an eye on the roots'. So each day she whips the plant out of the pot to check on the roots.

When she is eventually moved to a nursing home he finds two young nurses changing her bed and talking over her head, ignoring her as they work. The next day he brings in a photo of her when she was young to put by her bed and they immediately start asking her about it.  She has become an interesting person to them, not just another old lady in a bed.

I use an exercise during creative writing workshops that gets people writing in the first person when their character is an age far removed from their own and of the opposite sex .

I have used this exercise with children as young as 8,  boys writing as an old lady of 92 and girls writing about being an old man of 89.    

We first discuss what might be happening to them in their life at that point, and what their situation might be - getting inside their character's heads, challenging the stereotypes and creating empathy for the character they are to become during the exercise.

It can be a lot of fun. I often read them an example of my own to get them started :-

 I am Tommy - 85
"Today is my birthday and I am 85.  I got a call from my son's wife, she said they were too busy to come and visit me today but would I mind if they came next week instead?
Would I mind? I mean, seriously, I'm delighted.  They are so boring!
They think I am old and will bring me grapes and flowers when they visit me in the nursing home they put me in. But I'm planning something much more exciting and I can't wait until tonight.
You see I used to be an escapologist so I'm taking Annie (she's 82 next week) and we are going to escape from the home wearing a disguise. We're off to Las Vegas. I'm going to steal the helicopter that sits on the roof of the nursing home, no one knows I can fly it!  When we get to Vegas I'm going to show Annie how to abseil off the tallest building we can find!"

It is interesting when a teenage boy admits to the class that the person he is to be for this exercise is Marg who is 76, but then I am always amazed by their insight and empathy when we hear what comes out of that particular exercise.

We all need empathy in all areas of our lives, but for a writer I think it is essential.

---------------------------



Linda Strachan is the author of over 60 books for all ages from picture books to teenage novels and the writing handbook - 
Writing For Children.

Linda's latest YA novel is Don't Judge Me . 
She is Patron of Reading to Liberton High School, Edinburgh.

Her best selling series Hamish McHaggis is illustrated by Sally J. Collins who also illustrated Linda's retelling of Greyfriars Bobby.

website:  www.lindastrachan.com
blog:  Bookwords 






Friday 17 July 2015

Taking to the Road: from Rumer Godden's The Diddakoi to Camping in a Muddy Field - Emma Barnes

The summer holidays are here, and up and down the country children are telling parents: “let's go camping”. To the accompaniment sometimes of parental groans, it's time to drag out the sleeping bags and tent, and wonder what's happened to the ground sheet.

Some (like the family in my Wild Thing Goes Camping) are heading to one of the Festivals that now make up a big part of the British Summer. Others are just heading for a nearby field. Either way, they are taking part in what is becoming a major British ritual – the family camping trip.

Few of them, though, will be sleeping in a traditional, horse-drawn gypsy wagon. But this is where Kizzy, the heroine of children's classic, The Diddakoi, by Rumer Godden, is born and raised, even if in latter years it has been parked in the orchard of the stately home that belongs to Admiral Twiss.
And then the owner of the wagon, Kizzy's great-great gran, dies, the wagon is burned, and Kizzy's life changes forever.

This beautifully crafted story is about a half-Romany “traveller” child, Kizzy, who has to leave her wagon and live in the non-gypsy world. Reading it recently, I found it just as powerful as when I was a child.


The current edition
The 1970s version


Despite the very romantic cover on the current edition, the book is anything but sentimental or rosy-spectacled, whether about gypsy life, childhood, village communities or anything else. It has a rags to riches storyline, but when it comes to human nature Godden is both clear-sighted and hard-headed. (There is a bullying scene that is more violent and shocking than anything you are likely to find in a contemporary book.) And it explores wonderfully the position of a child who feels like the “outsider” in every “community”: a theme probably even more relevant now than ever.

It also wonderfully evokes Kizzy's urge for the outdoors and open spaces, and the terrible frustration she feels living in a small house, in a small village.

Her sympathetic foster mother, Olivia, says, “my cottage is the last in the village...Kizzy might not feel shut in” but Kizzy does, and dreams about taking to the road. One of the saddest moments in the book is when her beloved horse, Joe, dies and her dream goes with him.

For Kizzy there is a happy ending – she ends up being adopted by the lord of the manor, Admiral Twiss, and his rolling acres and her own pony (and miniature wagon) help satisfy her need for freedom. (Well, I said it was rags to riches!)

For modern kids, that's unlikely to be the solution. Most are short on outdoor space, while research shows that the radius kids are permitted to travel from their own (non stately) homes is smaller than it has ever been. Schemes like Project Wild Thing are attempts to counter the increasing separation between kids and the wild outdoors. (Their work includes initiatives at Festivals  - my heroine Wild Thing would approve!)

Going wild while camping at a festival


Parents are surely doing the same thing when they take their kids camping. For whatever the claimed educational benefits to kids, I suspect most parents are after something more basic: the chance to give their kids some fun and freedom in the great outdoors. (And maybe the chance of a crafty beer by the  fire while their kids are off discovering the joys of nature.)


Enjoy that camping trip, if you're going. And if you're looking for a superb read, do try The Diddakoi.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Emma's Wild Thing series for 8+ about the naughtiest little sister ever. (Cover - Jamie Littler)
"Hilarious and heart-warming" The Scotsman

 Wolfie is a story of wolves, magic and snowy woods...
(Cover: Emma Chichester Clark)
"Funny, clever and satisfying..." Books for Keeps

Emma's Website
Emma’s Facebook Fanpage
Emma on Twitter - @EmmaBarnesWrite

Thursday 16 July 2015

How can we open dialogue and engage with the Other?....by Miriam Halahmy

Alix confronting the gang who have bullied Samir for being foreign ; scene read by girls of Elizabeth Garret Anderson school : July 2015
Rescuing Samir from the sea : Paris stage play of HIDDEN, June 2015

In June 2015 a play of my novel HIDDEN was staged in Paris by students from a school where I ran workshops on Peace and Tolerance last year. HIDDEN has proved to be a key to helping my readers think about the Other in our society and how we could or should engage. The big debates today about terrorism, religious extremism, migration, people dying at sea and even a neo-Nazi demo planned in Golders Green against 'Jewish privilege' raising the spectre of the Holocaust again - all these debates are played out in front of our children and our young people. In order to help young people to open their minds and provide them with the tools to engage with the debates, we need first of all to educate ourselves.

In April 2007 I attended a three day conference on European Jewish Muslim dialogue in Brussels.
This is an extract from the article I wrote at the time.

Dialogue is a very delicate instrument.

 Brussels : April 2007, I found myself sitting at breakfast with two distinguished religious figures, Rabbi Jonathan Magonet and Imam Dr Abduljalil Sajid. Both these figures have been major players in Interfaith dialogue for over thirty years in Britain, setting benchmarks for progress and hope.

Where does dialogue begin and what is its role in healing a fractured world?
"The fight against Anti-Semitism and Islamophobia is a common fight which Jewish and Muslims communities should fight together – shoulder to shoulder", Imam Sajid maintains.
Listening is surely the most important part of beginning and as I sipped my coffee our talk turned to children and grandchildren.
Dialogue is the process of discovering that the Other is a reflection of ourselves with the same needs and the same deep seated aspirations.

Imam Sajid said that the only way forward since 9/11 is “Dialogue with dignity. Let us constantly remind ourselves that anti-Semitism is far from dead in Europe. As a Muslim, I have noted that whenever there is Islamophobia or hatred against Muslims, the signs of anti-Semitism are not far behind".

However, achieving widespread and lasting dialogue is a modern hot potato. Entering into dialogue usually feels and sounds like agreement with the Other. Israelis avoid dialogue with Palestinians in case it sounds as though they agree with wiping out the State of Israel. Palestinians avoid dialogue with Israelis in case it sounds as though they agree with the Occupation.

The question therefore arises, How can you have dialogue without agreeing? Godfrey Spencer, specialist in mediation and conflict resolution, demonstrated the answer in a very powerful workshop on mediation. Spencer pointed out that dialogue without agreement involves the recognition of the same deep-seated needs and aspirations on both sides. It also requires a commitment to listening to our enemies.

Taking the role of mediator, Spencer set up a role play between two Dutch delegates, representing a female Dutch Muslim MP, born in Morocco and Geert Wilders, a Dutch right wing MP, who expresses extreme views about the rising numbers of Muslims living in the Netherlands.
“Why do you hate us?” asked the Muslim MP.
“Is that a need for information?” interpreted Spencer, in his role of mediator.
“Why do you wear headscarves, you look stupid? You need to demonstrate that you are part of the Netherlands,” said Wilders.
“Is that a need for community?” asked the mediator.

Dialogue helps to defuse fear and particularly fear of the future, which becomes a very present fear and threatens to overwhelm us all. The Dutch right wing are afraid of losing their national culture. The Dutch Muslims are afraid they will be faced with genocide if the extreme right wing prevails. The mediator verbalised this as both sides having a deep seated need for safety. Ultimately the workshop effectively demonstrated that both sides had exactly the same needs. In communication there are no losers or winners. Win/Win is the only path to dialogue and healing.

Samir begs Alix to help him hide the asylum seeker they have just rescued from the sea to save him from being deported.
One of the most powerful experiences on this Conference was provided by Dialogue in the Dark (DID).  We all entered a totally blacked out room where the only way to survive is to co-operate. Completely blind, our group of seven had to find a seat at a table, put together pieces of an unknown object and pour boiling water into cups for tea and coffee.
Co-operating to put together our mysterious pieces, which turned out to be a Russian doll, we learnt both negotiation and flexibility, daring to risk breaking the rules to achieve our goal. As one delegate said, “Dialogue in the Dark opened our eyes.”
 DID is not an experience in simulating blindness but a metaphor for stress. It asks, “How can we put people, who have never met each other, under sufficient pressure which will strengthen them and encourage them to overcome hurdles together?”
 It is a process which leads groups towards meaningful dialogue with each other and encourages us to sharpen all our senses towards healing the divisions in our world.

It is the Middle East crisis which has triggered the development of Jewish/Muslim dialogue across Europe in the last few years. With the rise in both Islamaphobia and Anti-Semitism in Europe, the two communities are seeking common ground and support through dialogue. 

Yom Ha Shoah, the Jewish commemoration day for the victims of the Holocaust, occurred during the conference.  All the delegates, Jewish and Muslim, gathered in the dining room,  a yarzheit (memorial) candle  was lit and we held a minute’s silence, in harmony and shared respect.

“Dialogue is a very delicate instrument,” says Rabbi Jonathan Magonet. "The encounter, seeing the Other through ourselves, is an end in itself. We have to redefine ourselves in relation to each other, rather than in opposition.There is a revolution going on between the Jewish and Muslim communities and we are witnesses. The responsibility to move into dialogue towards healing and peace and away from disharmony and conflict lies with us."
......................................................

As one young man wrote in my Paris workshops on Peace : You said sorry but you're not the only one. I know you suffered and I did too. But we're still here, in this world, maybe as strangers, but as humans. So raise your hands above the waves of sorrow and burn the sadness away. Samih Hazbon, 18, from Syria now living in Paris

Our children and young people need help to cope with the troubling things they hear about and see on TV and the grownups need to find ways to help them in an increasingly bewildering world. But as Samih's words tell us - we should never lose hope and never stop trying to reach out.



The girls from Elizabeth Garrett Anderson school who asked some amazing questions about the issues raised in HIDDEN : July 2015
Elizabeth Garret Anderson girls at the Jewish Museum with me in 2014 - studying the passport of a German Jew, 1930s, stamped with a red J for Jew.