I'm still here

Just bloggin' so they don't close us down ...

Beast Alert: this Book Contains Monsters!

At last! Titles for my current MSs. In full, they are

Flight of the Time Hawk

Beast Alert: May Contain Monsters

and

Anatomy of Dust.

Watch this space ...

More About Gatekeepers ... sort of

He doesn't actually use the word 'gatekeeper', but it seems to me that in this article from the Guardian, Anthony McGowan is also writing about the problems of delivering books - either as a publisher or a writer - to an audience of which you are not a member: i.e. adults writing and publishing for children and young people.

I agree with him that in YA fiction, where the boundaries become blurred - adults frequently enjoying books written for young adults, and vice versa - it is also a problem of categorisation. I work in a charity bookshop, and quite often find books I know to be written by so-called YA authors misshelved amongst the general fiction. I tend to leave them there, especially if there's also a copy in the children's section. I believe if a book is in the right place if it is somewhere where it might be picked up and read.
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But I digress. McGowan is concerned about adults missing out on authors they might appreciate (Meg Rosoff and Patrick Ness to name but two: amongst my favourites as well); and indeed authors missing out on readers. But he also seems to suggest that teenagers should be writing for teenagers, and there I'm not so sure I agree: at least, not to the exclusion of older writers.

Like so many other things, there's a continuum. I wouldn't disagree that there are likely to be teenagers who could write highly publishable books for their own age and others, but where should it stop? 12 year-olds writing middle grade?

One thing I am sure of, no-one is going to suggest the very youngest children create their own stories. Not only is the writing and design of picture books a sophisticated skill, the very act of reading together is linked to the ancient art of storytelling: and maybe that is something that deserves to be remembered.

The old have always told stories to the young, and it has been a relationship treasured by both, for many good reasons. Let's not stop.

Who Do You Write For? The Curse of the Gatekeeper

So, who do you write for?

My target reader, of course.

And your target reader is ...?

Well, at the moment it's a young adult female, as it was when I was writing Better Than Stars; but I wrote Timehikers for a 9-12 audience, and people told me it would appeal mostly to boys: in which case, I am also a boy - which, if you haven't noticed, actually I'm not. Sorry, getting off the point - or maybe not as much as it might appear. I write for young people, or more accurately for the young person who still exists inside me.

And who out of the people who've read your book for 9-12 year-old probable boys is actually 9-12 years old?

Interesting you should ask that. Timehikers has been read - in full, not just a sample - by a lot of different people:

      friends
      family
      MA tutors
      agents
      publishers
      fellow writers
      competition judges
      and one ten year-old boy;

and - you've guessed it - the only reader who belonged to my target audience was the last one. And, since you ask, yes he did like it. All the other people were adults like myself; and quite a lot of them were what we call "gatekeepers": people who control access to the child audience. Had the book passed that first circle of gatekeepers and been published, it would still have had to pass the second circle. Although some books are chosen by children for themselves, a significant number are selected by parents, teachers and librarians. As writers, we have to have an eye to pleasing them as much as our "real" readers.

Don't worry, this isn't going to become a moan about my own experience: rather, it was stimulated by discovering a delightful book which would probably be marketed today to 9-12 year-old boys. You can find out more about The Ghost of Thomas Kempe by Penelope Lively here. It was originally published in 1973, and reissued in the edition I've been reading by Egmont in 2006. I loved it, but I'm a bit suspicious of my own enjoyment as a recommendation. After all, I'm typical of many gatekeepers, and I've a feeling the book was appealing to the wrong bits of me, the bits no child would share.

So there you have it: the curse of the gatekeeper. We want to write for people who are children today, but we can only reach them through a narrow entrance controlled by people who were children yesterday.

I suppose it works the other way too. I imagine there may be a few gatekeepers cursing us, the writers, for our inability to deliver what young people really want. But until 10 year-olds develop the ability to write their own publishable stories, it looks like it's always going to be that way.

Meg Rosoff Defends Childhood

http://www.thebookseller.com/news/rosoff-slams-government-assault-childhood-330696

... but is anyone listening? Teaching is no longer about education: it's become training to undergo increasingly worthless tests and exams - worthless because they have become a test more of how well you've been trained and how well you follow instructions, than of what you've learned. And it's children who are suffering, from increased and unjustifiable stress, and from decreased enrichment. Shame on you, Government, and well said Meg.

Where Do You Like to Write?

Are you one of those writers who likes to write in cafes? If so, you're in good company. Philip Pullman is so appreciative of the Cafe at the Oxford Museum of Modern Art, he acknowledges it in his Dark Materials trilogy. If the stories are true - and I think they are - JK Rowling wrote at least some of Harry Potter in the Elephant Cafe in Edinburgh. But a good writing cafe isn't just any cafe.

I've been to the Elephant Cafe, and I can see what JK liked about it. It's big enough to be anonymous, but quirky enough to be friendly. There are private corners, a jumble of chairs and tables of all sizes, and big windows that let in light and views. It's full of people who seem to like being there, and also - less predictably - elephants. Not live elephants, obviously, but ornaments and quite a lot of elephant-themed furniture. You can even sit on a chair shaped like one. It's easy to see how your imagination might be set free in a place like this.

Where I live, we're enough to have several cafes that provide good coffee (essential), and room to sit and let your mind wander. In fact, I try to match cafe and book, and may change cafes when I change book, like some people start a new notebook. But I do have one I keep coming back to. It's not unique like the Elephant Cafe - I don't think there can be many of those around; it's not even independent: it's part of a well-known chain. But like the cafe in Edinburgh, it has a big secondary room that is irregularly shaped, well-lit and comfortable, and the background noise is just right. I can't actually remember whether there was music in the Elephant Cafe, but that is as it should be. The soundtrack here is at exactly the right level: unintrusive, but to my taste if I want to pay attention to it. Otherwise, the chatter of other customers merges into it to become the sort of white noise against which I like to write.

What about you? Are you a cafe writer, or do you have somewhere else you prefer to write? Or do you just snatch time when and where you can?

Simon Cowell, Children's Author

Well, I suppose he's built his career on people who think they can perform because they've seen the professionals do it, and it looks easy ... although maybe it wasn't a good strategy to start by antagonising the entire children's book publishing industry.

Or, hang on, do people tune into The X Factor and Britain's Got Talent just to see undiscovered brilliance? Or is it true that the "talent spotters" seek out the dreadful as well, because audiences like to laugh at people making fools of themselves? - sad people who have no perspective on their own unpractised ability, or the difficulty of what they're taking on. I'd hate to see something like that happen to Simon.

Maybe we should just be glad that he's reading to his son: a joy for both of them, and with a bit of luck the child will grow into someone who loves books.

What do you think?

What I Learned from 'The Night Circus'

I do occasionally post reviews of books I think might interest you, but that's not really what this is: it's more like a fairly self-centred analysis of Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus from the point of view of a writer - one specific writer, i.e. me. Like I say in the title, I'm interested in what we can learn from reading other authors ... but if you read on you probably will get a flavour of the book, which might lead you to want to read more, in which case you will find a link at the end of the blog.

I picked it up because I thought it would be my kind of book. From the cover I could see it was a playful novel set in a fantastical circus, in the nineteenth century: right up my street, especially as one of the WiPs currently lurking in my head is a fantasy set in a nineteenth century theatre. To be a writer I think you must first be a reader; and to be a writer of a particular genre, you must first be an appreciative reader of that genre.

That may sound obvious, but it's an easy truth to overlook: especially if you're a novice writer beginning to take yourself seriously and looking to make your first professional choices. When I first started, I thought romantic fiction for magazines would be an undemanding place to learn my craft and earn a few pennies while wrting the Great Novel. I don't particularly like romantic fiction, and it was not a success. Now I concentrate on trying to write what I would like to read, and reading what I would like to write ... not in order to copy, of course: but the more ideas I am exposed to, the more I generate; and there is often something to be learned from the writing.

At the heart of The Night Circus is the circus itself: described with a bewitching mixture of exquisite detail and evocative allusion - so allowing every reader to create their own imagined venue for the story. This confirms an existing belief of my own about successful fantasy: the importance of specifically imagined, graphically realised place. The real star of the Harry Potter books is Hogwarts; of the Narnia books, Narnia, etc. Some fantasy writers also express themselves visually: Tolkien created pictures and decorative maps of Middle Earth; Philip Reeve is an illustrator. To have an "eye" and be able to articulate it is critical.

But then with The Night Circus everything I thought I knew falls apart, and it links to one of my own struggles as a writer. I find intriguing situations and beguiling worlds easier to dream up than stories, which is tough because it's pretty fundamental. Every one of the authors I have already referred to has created page turning adventures to inhabit the places we want to share with them, except Morgenstern.

There is a central narrative to the book, which becomes increasingly compelling as you read, but it's initially dissipated amongst multiple characters, only one of whom I felt real human sympathy for - Bailey - and he doesn't appear until p.57; and confusing timelines. It's never a good sign when you have to keep turning back to the beginning of chapters to check where and when you are. And yet, and yet ...

You'll have gathered I found much to admire in the book, and in the end I could hardly put it down. So what did I learn? That there are no such things as rules, and just as you think you've found the formula, something will come along and disprove it?

http://erinmorgenstern.com/writing/the-night-circus/

- or Rather Desperately not Writing, and How to Get Started Again ...

... I hope. It's been a long time. Not quite so long as my absence from these pages might suggest, but too long by far.

The last year has been pretty traumatic - now is probably not the right time to describe how - but a major casualty of that trauma has been my own ability to think and to create, hence little or no writing. I'm not even sure that it's something I ought to try to revive - if it's dead, it's dead - but now the disruption is over I'm beginning to flex my imaginative muscles and wondering whether, if I put a little encouraging pressure on myself, I might be able to get it going again.

So here's my resolution: to write at least six days a week: either in this blog or in a Work in Progress, or both; by hand or wordprocessed; but it must be complete sentences, more than just notes.

See you here.

Now that's what I call a prize ...

Oh joy. I am gruntled, definitely gruntled. There has to be something right about a world in which - in honour of PG Wodehouse - an author gets a pig named after their work.

Don't Judge a Writer by Their (Possibly Drunken) Appearance

I can't name names or places, as it would almost certainly be libellous - and anyhow, I'm not even sure I want to, for reasons which will become clear later.

I was in the audience at a literary festival for a panel between three novelists. Author A was the one I'd come to see, Author B was chairing and Author C was - well, someone I'd never heard of before.

In the discussion, unknown Author C turned out to be unable to string two sensible words together. When it was their turn to speak, they would ramble disconnectedly for a few minutes until they finally tailed off, followed by an embarrassed silence from the audience. Authors A and B would then look at each other as if to say "Did you understand a word of that?" "No, neither did I," and initiate another topic of conversation.

Author A, on the other hand, fulfilled my expectations by being articulate and interesting: clearly the sort of person whose book you'd want to read. Except, that is ...

I can't remember why I bought the books of all three authors to be signed after the event: I imagine there was something about each of them which appealed to me, in spite of the way the discussion had gone. And you can guess which was the one which turned out to be the best read I've had for a long time: innovative, gripping and consistently well written. Yes, it was the novel by incoherent Author C.

Author A's book is OK. Just that. I've already given it to the charity shop. It's the first of a series, and I shan't be bothering with the others. Which goes to show ... what?

I've wondered since whether Author C had made too much use of the refreshments in the green room. Certainly they spoke like someone under the influence of something. Or maybe it's just further proof of what I've always believed: that creativity has nothing to do with what you're like as a person.

Which invites the question - what is the point of author appearances? And what can we, as aspiring authors, learn about how to approach them?

Apart from the advisability of keeping a safe distance from the green room wine, that is.

The 'What Happens Next?' Factor - a recipe for success?

It's what every writer seeks, isn't it? That magic ingredient which will make a book into something people don't just want to read, they have to. They can't put it down, they wish it would go on for ever.

I keep asking myself what the secret is. All the time I'm writing, I'm partly aiming at the end product (and having fun) and partly hoping that by doing it I will learn how to do it.

And I read, and read, and read, books other people have made popular. Harry Potter. So many critical readers have picked holes in JK Rowlings's writing, but I devoured every word. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Larsson is full of weaknesses my writers' workshop wouldn't have let out the door - if he were capable of submitting an extract sufficiently succinct to qualify for critiquing - but I couldn't put the books down until I'd finished the trilogy.

Good writing alone is not enough: what you need is character. That was the first thing I learned. The protagonist has to be quirky enough to intrigue, vulnerable enough to attract sympathy and sufficiently risk-prone for us to fear for their safety - all of which apply to Lisbeth Salander. But that wasn't what kept the pages turning. As I've said before, I believe story is what really matters. For what it's worth, my vote for character, plot and skilful writing in a blockbuster goes to Suzanne Collins and The Hunger Games.

All very nice and analytical, but it still hasn't given me my answer.

Oddly enough, the most useful insight came from my own writing - not, I hasten to add, that I'm holding myself up as an example of someone who's achieved success: just that I've found a way of articulating what I'm trying to do which I find helpful, and maybe you will too.

I've been stuck for a long time trying to decide which of a small number ideas will be the starting point for my next book, and for all my doubts about it, I keep coming back to one of them. It could be because the lead character is beginning to get a hold on me (check), but the real revelation came to me when I realised I couldn't let that embryonic story go because ...

I wanted to know what happened next.

That's it. So simple, and so crucial. What drove me through seven volumes of Harry and 2,000+ pages of Larsson. What's sucking me into my own work in progress. I'm trying to express a formula for what makes a book un-put-downable. And that's it. The ability to keep the WHN (What Happens Next) question always in the reader's mind

Next time I edit an MS, I shall be checking for typos, plot holes and the WHN Factor.

What's Your Classic?

I'm really grateful to CarlyB at Writing from the Tub for drawing my attention to this.

Next week, Vintage will republish a selection of children's classics. See Carly's blog above for a schedule of interesting reflections on the event - but what intrigues me is the choice of books to be released. I'm sure it has been shaped by all sorts of restraints of copyright etc rather than being an absolute free choice, but it made me wonder what I would bring back from the past.

My own quirky choice - apart from CS Lewis - would be E Nesbit. I see The Railway Children is on the list, but I grew up with an almost complete set of vintage (with a small 'v') copies of her work, and when I was a child her most famous book was actually my least favourite. My taste was for the more off-the-wall imaginative works, such as The Amulet, Harding's Luck, Nine Unlikely Tales ... I could go on. Yes the writing style and social contexts were unfamiliar, but that was part of their charm: like the fantastical line drawings from another age under their sheets of tissue.

On the other hand, tastes change. At the charity bookshop where I volunteer there's still a market for the Little Grey Rabbit series with its pre-feminist household of the hardworking female rabbit and the feckless male hare, but it's mostly the grandmothers who buy it.

What would you bring back for your own children/grandchildren - of the present or future?

So, ebooks are bad for young children ...?

Or rather, as Imogen Russell Williams says in this article in the Guardian,

as with most technological leaps, we now need to strike a balance between the tried and tested and the sparkly new.

Thank goodness for a common sense overview of the subject, which looks at how children are reading, and aknowledges the value of both enhanced/electronic and traditional forms. According to Williams,

 the books themselves are still the main course.

It has to be. Story, story, every time, whatever form it appears in.

After a long dramatic pause ...

... I'm back.

And there I hope the similarity to a couple of famous movie appearances comes to an end: though the fact that both the Terminator and the pilot in Independence Day are male does have a certain relevance.

To explain: a week or two ago I was playing roles in three different productions. Two of them are now finished, and I've got time to blog again. It was only when I referred to the movies that I got the link to the fact that two of the roles I was playing were males, gender-swaps for me. Perhaps I should go with the flow and blog about writing from the point of view of the opposite gender, etc. ...

*No. You sat down to write about shifting between creative media. Stick to the point. You can do the other one next*.

It may appear from the little internal debate above that I'm a bit confused, unsettled. Maybe I am, but none the worse for that I think. A common writer complaint is the feeling that you're getting in a creative rut, can't see the story for the paper. Something that shakes you up can be the best thing for getting things moving again. And there's such a thing as trying too hard.

All my life I've been torn between two impulses: to make theatre (i.e. to act and direct), and to write stories. They can seem to be separate, even conflicting, although I don't think it was always so. A dramatist in Shakespeare's day would have been referred to as a poet, and people talked about going to "hear" a play. Recently the two forms have seemed to converge for me, even to support each other.

Since I decided writing was going to be my main focus, the opportunity to be in a number of plays has come my way, and when I'm in a performance (except when it's really busy, as recently) the writing seems to flow. My earlier post Where Do All the Stories Come From? may have something to say about this.

But the biggest surprise for me has been how, now that I've actually sat down and written a couple of books, the techniques I've studied in drama have helped me to do it. Exercises to stimulate creativity and build character are obvious crossovers, but the huge revelation is how much writing a novel is like directing a play. You have to pay the same attention to pace, timing, balance ... and never forget your audience.

So here I am, refreshed, inspired (?) and ready for lots of writing. Expect to see me around again.

Just one play left to keep my mind spinning, until we perform next month at least. And yes, I am playing a bloke.

Please don't read my books!

... says Terry Deary, according to the Telegraph. And, do you know what? I agree with him - not that children shouldn't read his books, but that being read in schools is a risky business for a writer.

I've caused shock and horror before now amongst fellow unpublished authors when I've said that I would never want a novel of mine to be a set book. Surely any reader is a good reader?

No. As an ex-teacher of sixth formers, I've seen too many students arrive with a dislike of an author I love in place because of  the experience they've already had of them in the classroom. Of course, they loved every text they studied with me ... *ahem*

Therein lies the dilemma, and I don't know what the answer is - or rather, maybe Deary is on the right lines. Yes, children should be introduced to knowledge of history, experience of literature, etc., in as accessible a way as possible, but at the same time we should leave something for them to discover and enjoy independently.

What do you think?

Where do all the stories come from?

Ever wondered? I started thinking about this - again - after reading an article in last week's Sunday Times. Part article, part review of Jonah Lehrer's book Imagine: How Creativity Works, Stephen Armstrong considers the brain science of creativity, and how to stimulate it. As the title The answer is blowing in my alpha waves suggests, the story of how Bob Dylan wrote an iconic number - actually Like a Rolling Stone - is used as an example.

... the singer decided to quit the music industry after a harrowing European tour, and set off to write a novel [*taking the easy option then!*] in a cabin in the middle of nowhere ... [He] wanted to do nothing much apart from avoid writing another song, but soon after arriving he ... grabbed a pencil and started scribbling.

The rest is history.


It's all to do with something called alpha waves. This isn't the place for a detailed examination of the theory - and if it were I'm not the person to do it. It's controversial of course, but seems to be backed up by some scientific research.

As Armstrong says,

In a process that has yet to be understood, these [waves] suddenly flood the right brain roughly eight seconds before an idea pops into the mind ... It is alpha waves that fire up when jazz pianists are playing [*I find that amazing*]. ... According to Lehrer, Dylan's frustration and isolation combined to trigger the right hemisphere of his brain, which drew all his disparate influences into one catchy song.

As I said, I'm not going to attempt to take on the science of this, but it does chime with my own experiences as a writer, and as a practitioner and teacher in theatre. In fact, although I'm primarily a writer now, I find I'm constantly going back to what I learned in acting - obviously about role building, but more fundamentally about creativity itself.
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Armstrong's thesis is that the capacity for creativity is there in all of us, waiting to be triggered by the right conditions. Stanislavsky understood that. He said that an actor should believe in the life of their character, as a child believes in the life of her doll. We are all born with the ability and desire to role play, to make marks and sounds and to move experimentally and joyfully, and to tell stories. These abilities get locked in by society's expectations and judgement: you are are weird if you continue to do these things, unless you have unusual ability.


I once watched a young actor perform. He was academically bright and took an analytical approach to his work, which was often sadly a bit wooden. This time he was just helping out a friend by playing against her for her assessment, and so not trying too hard. The result was one of the most moving pieces of theatre I've ever seen in the classroom. Freed of over-intellectualising, he produced something with real truth.


So what are the right conditions to produce that kind of magic? If only I knew, then I'd be able to bottle it. Armstrong quotes a number of different suggestions, some conflicting, some illegal. I'm with him totally on one: there's nothing like going for a walk to get the wheels in my head turning.

One thing I'm sorry the article doesn't address is what happens after the moment of inspiration. Novels take a long time to write. If you're constantly waiting for something from outside (actually inside) yourself to provide the impetus, progress is going to be slow. The gift needs to be nurtured.


What do you think?

Reading Delights (and how to sell them)

Last week I was playing shop amidst a feast of reading delights. Or, to put it more clearly, I did a few shifts on a bookstall at the Bath Literature Festival (sadly finished now for this year).

And not just any bookstall. I was working - oh, all right, volunteering - for the lovely Mr B's Emporium of Reading Delights. (Seriously, check out the link to see just how therapeutic a bookstore can be.)

I hoped I was going to enjoy myself, but I never realised how much. People who like books are easy to be around. And I was surprised how swiftly I became interested in what was often not what I would expect to be my kind of book, when I saw it through the eyes of someone who could appreciate it. But mostly it was amazing to be surrounded by so many of them.

I don't think I've ever really thought before what nice things books are. They're more than visually attractive, they're tactile, designed to be picked up, opened and explored. And they have a life. I was quite upset recently to visit a craft fair where one of the products was books mutilated into becoming CD racks and suchlike. But I digress. Whole and healthy, they're nice things to sell.

This might sound a bit odd coming from someone whose last post announced her conversion to e-books - but don't get me wrong:  I never meant to give up the hard stuff. Why does there always have to be a choice? Dogs or cats. The Beatles or the Stones. Shakespeare or Beckett. Why can't I have them both? I think our lives are enhanced by enjoying things in as many ways as we can.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the e-Book

"I'm not much of a reader, but since we've had one of these ..."

This is not me talking, you will have guessed. It's the lady from the couple I got talking to while looking at the demo e-readers.

I'd reached a tipping point. As always with these things, it was an accumulation of forces which led me there. Recently, I heard from two friends who are going to be published electronically later this year (ec newman, and Kim Donovan's St Viper's School for Super Villains) and I need to be able to read them. I also remember a respected YA author answering a question at the Kids' Lit Fest last year. Of course he liked e-books: his house was full of paper ones, and the overspill in the garage was getting damp.

I don't have that impressive a library - each time I've moved on in my life I've taken only the books that meant most to me, leaving the rest behind - but our house is small and when the piles start growing on the landing you realise you have to do something. That something could of course be giving some away, and I weed fairly frequently, but I went through them a couple of weeks ago and managed to find two I was prepared to part with. I use my local library extensively, but some of the books I want are not available without expensive inter-library loan fees. If I got an e-reader I could buy more without adding to the piles; I could even make space by replacing some battered classics with free downloads.

Enough worthy reasons to give myself permission to start browsing scrummy on-line bookstores full of inviting titles, and playing with tablets and e-readers... it's a toy! I want one!

Back to the lady in the shop. The really interesting thing about that couple - besides the fact that they had been turned from non-readers into readers - was that they already had an e-reader, but one was not enough. They were shopping for another, fancier one so they could both read at the same time and stop fighting over the one they already had.

Video didn't stop people going to the cinema. I have no statistics to prove this, but my sense is that it gave the film industry a boost, allowing people to develop their taste for movies. I've had my first personal experience of how e-publishing may do the same for our appetite for reading.

      Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises,
      Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not ...

Sorry. Could never resist a bit of Caliban.

Time for a Change of Portal

The snow gives me an excuse to put a new image at the head of my blog. It's cheating a bit because it was taken last year, but there is snow here on the street outside. It was taken in Somerset, near Priddy, and if you look closely you can see sleigh tracks on the path.

I collect what I call "portal pictures": images which seem to lead from one world to another. It's a bit hard to get away from wardrobes and lamp posts with ones like the snow picture, but here's another. Where do you imagine it might lead?