… you go on a writer’s blog and there’s nothing new? Or they do that feeble ‘Sorry it’s been so long since I blogged but I’ve been soooo busy’ bobbins? Me too. Anyway, sorry it’s been so long since I blogged…
… but this little baby is taking up all my time. I know you want me to finish Megan’s last story rather than writing about biscuits or kittens, right? Sure you do. But just in case:
Aww! Back soon, promise xx
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Why is poetry so undervalued? Check out the space allocated to the poetry section in any library or bookshop and you’ll see what I mean. There are barely enough books to prop up a wonky table leg. Why?
Maybe it’s because adults like me were put off by having to dissect and deliberate over too many incomprehensible verses at GCSE level. I simply didn’t understand half of it. My Last Duchess. How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix . Nothing sank in, apart from the War Poets, especially Wilfred Owen. I loved his Anthem for a Doomed Youth and Futility . There’s nothing tugs harder at teenage emotions more than someone dying young in battle.
War Poems apart, I’d like to blame my teachers for my lack of appreciation of poetry but I think I was just thick. Anyway, and it meant I didn’t pass the joy of verse on to my children or use it half enough in the classroom when I was a teacher. Past pupils, I apologise.
It’s only now, as I try to widen my reading range, that I’ve realised what a glorious world I’ve been missing. Poetry is so immediate, so rich in language, so inspiring, so funny. Take something as deceptively simple as The Gruffalo. It’s meant ot be a picture book but don’t be fooled. The opening to that is pure poetry: ‘A mouse took a stroll through a deep, dark wood. A fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked good.’ The words demand to be read out loud, don’t they?
For older readers I recently discovered new poet Rachel Rooney.
I borrowed her collection The Language of Cat from my local library (there’s 6p in PLR right there for you, Rache). I liked the mixture of poems – short, long, shape poems, found poems, simple easy-to-read ones and some more profound. All accessible to children. Just Her and the Poet is one of my favourites:
It begins:
‘Just her, a lamp, an open book.
An open book, the glow of the page.
The glow of the page, the inky print
The inky print…’
©Rachel Rooney
Clever that, continuing one thread into another all the way through. It’s a good one to use in a KS2 classroom as a model for children to imitate style.
Rachel is one of the many writers, poets and illustrators appearing at the Joined-Up Reading Conference I’m helping to organise in September, by the way. Can’t wait to meet her.
Poetry specifically for young adults is harder to find so I was drawn to this collection on the bookshelf in The Bookcasein Lowdham yesterday. By Andrew Fusek Peters and Polly Peters Poems with Attitude (pub: 2002) covers just about everything in heterosexual Teen World. I say that because I was a little disappointed that gay crushes/relationships weren’t explored when everything else is. So many poems revolved around the notion of feeling ’different’ it seemed a strange omission. That apart, Poems with Attitude is fab. I loved I’m not (A) cros (tic) With You at All because when you read out the word the acrostic poem spells you realise the girl is livid! There’s a useful guide to the different forms of poetry at the back, too.
My go-to guy for poems has to be Roger McGough. The guy’s a genius at making you laugh then suddenly, with one sharp twist of a line, kicking you in the guts. The Lesson is one of my favourites.
You can see Roger McGough and loads of other poets and performers at the Imagine Children’s Festival in London next month. Boo! Why is everything always darn sarf?
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There are a lot of happy writers about at the moment. Last week the statements for PLR were issued. PLR (Public Lending Rights) is a body that collect details of how many books have been borrowed from a selected number of libraries throughout the UK per year. The writer then receives 6.05p per loan of the books they have registered.
6p doesn’t sound a lot but, boy, do those 6ps add up, especially for well established writers with a long back-list. However, there is a threshold so no one, not even James Patterson or John Grisham, gets more than £6,600. To James Patterson that’s peanuts but to most writers, that amount of money in one go makes a huge difference. To put it in perspective, only 313 writers out of 23,718 received the top band payment, the majority (17,590) received below £99.00 and a further 16,000 received NOTHING because they were below the minimum payment of £1.00.
Children’s authors do particularly well from PLR, especially those who write picture books. Check out the list of the Top 400 most borrowed authors and you’ll see what I mean. http://www.plr.uk.com/mediaCentre/mostBorrowedAuthors/top250Authors/2009-2010Top400Authors.pdf
What’s interesting, I think, is that many well known authors such as Michael Morpurgo, Philip Pullman and JK Rowling aren’t necessarily the most borrowed.
I reckon I’m somewhere round number 1000, which out of 23,000, ain’t bad. My most borrowed titles were mainly my most recent ones:
So What if I Hog the Ball? (Walker) was issued 3365 times
Do Goalkeepers Wear Tiaras? 3089
Football Mad (OUP) 3088 (shared with 2 other authors)
Are All Brothers Foul? 3012
Accidental Friends (OUP) 2934
There’s Only One Danny Ogle was borrowed over 500 times, which is mint seeing as it’s out of print now.
So if you were one of the people who borrowed one of my books last year thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s a real boost, especially when so many bookshops don’t have my books in store.
Sadly, PLR payments, like libraries themselves, are under threat. I don’t know how much longer writers will continue to receive it. Perhaps it is a ‘bonus’, an extra we don’t deserve but it certainly helps get through winter.
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I’m working on book 12 of Girls FC at the moment. This is the final book of the series and comes back full circle to Megan Fawcett again. In book 1, Do Goalkeepers Wear Tiaras? Megan relates how she gets the team together. For the rest of the series she leaves it to others to tell the Parrs U11s’ story but she’s ever-present, guiding, haranguing, supporting and encouraging her team-mates.
Megan is a real leader. She feels responsible for the team at all times, even when she doesn’t need to. The coach, Hannah Preston, is her idol and when Hannah leaves to go to teacher-training college it’s a huge blow. In book 12 the Parrs have to rebuild, with new team mates and a new coach.
How will Megan cope with half her team gone? Watch this space…
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The big book news this week was that Waterstone’s has decided to ditch its ‘s’ to make it more ‘versatile’ for Internet users.
It seems strange that a book chain, of all retailers, should be the one dumb down punctuation. However, the apostrophe ‘s’ does seem to be more misused than any punctuation mark. People do struggle with it; I confess I had to think twice when writing ‘its s’ just now. ‘It’s’ or ‘it’s’ is a toughie (see below).
Shops are renowned for their liberal use of the apostrophe s. Here’s a classic I found at a garden centre near Doncaster once:
OK. Reverting to teacher mode: Q: Why is this wrong, children?
A: Because bananas is the plural of banana, Miss. It doesn’t need an apostrophe ‘s’. Same goes for oranges, apples, pears, donkeys and muppets.
A word does need an apostrophe ‘s’ to show possession or ownership:
e.g. I adore Helena’s books such as the awesome Simone’s Website, Simone’s Letters and Simone’s Diary that were previously found in Waterstone’s shops.
Usage becomes harder when there are plurals involved or words already ending in ‘s’:
The girls’ and boys’ football teams (teams of girls and boys).
Jesus’s sandals (or Jesus’ sandals is equally correct)
Harder still when the word is already plural:
People’s choice
A children’s book
Women’s problems.
Men’s ties
Ladies’ waterworks
People’s bad habits
Hardest of all (in my opinion) is to remember there is no apostrophe for possessive pronouns like the ‘it’s/its I mentioned above.
So: his, hers, its, ours, yours = no apostrophe ‘s’
It’s does have an apostrophe ‘s’ however when it’s short for ‘it is’ or ‘it has’
e.g. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to
It’s been a hard slog
You can read a further explanation from this blogger . Thank you to Tweeter Catherine Hawley (@juxtabooks) directing me to the site.
I’ll leave you with this witty poem by the brilliant Roger McGough:
Roger McGough, 1976
twould be nice to be
an apostrophe
floating above an s
hovering like a paper kite
in between the its
eavesdropping, tiptoeing
high above the thats
an inky comet
spiralling
the highest tossed
of hats
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So wrote philosopher Alain de Botton after a poor review of one of his books in the New York Times. The whole sentence was: ‘I will hate you till I die and wish you nothing but ill will in every career move you make.’
This might seem a tad OTT but I know how he feels. A poor review is like a slap in the face to a writer. Death by critic is brutal.
I’ve been lucky so far. The majority of my reviews, in the 14 years I’ve been published, have been favourable. That is until last week when I had this review of Simone’s Website on the Guardian Children’s Book Blog: http://www.guardian.co.uk/childrens-books-site/2012/jan/07/review-simones-website-pielicharty
Ouch! Twitter described the review as: ‘… a smart piece of criticism.’ Well, I was certainly smarting by the end of it, that’s for sure.
Now, everyone knows that the sensible reaction to a bad review is to forget it and move on. ‘Never take any notice of anything people say about your work, good or bad,’the writer Alan Sillitoe once told me. Fair enough. Writers and dramatists have to grown a thick skin in this trade. It’s naive to imagine that everyone on the entire planet is going to like your work; that’s never going to happen.
What I object to (apart from them spelling my name wrong) is that there is no place to respond to the review on the blog. I don’t mean by me - that would be churlish - but for anybody out there who might like to leave another viewpoint.
Also, if I might be so bold, I’d like to pick up on a couple of points:
1. Don’t blame me for the cover
As in: ‘The cover was, quite frankly, rubbish.’
The author has very little say over the cover. The publisher chooses the illustrator and the design. Dislike the cover by all means, just don’t blame the author.
For what it’s worth I agree that the second cover was a little babyish. I prefer the original by Sue Heap (above) and the later one in the Love Simone XXX bind-up by Tim Cahane (below)
2. Please think twice before saying a book is ’badly written’
This is a stab in the heart for any writer; use those dreadful words sparingly. To be a bad writer means the characters are so two-dimensional the reader didn’t care what happened to them at all. It means the sentences are badly constructed and riddled with both grammatical and punctuation errors. It means the dialogue is wooden, cliched and unrealistic. My reviewer wrote that: ‘Simone was a well written character but the fact that she went on a bit was either bad writing or a very strong character.’
Oh, it’s definitely because Simone had ‘a very strong character’. Otherwise it means I spent nine months of my life writing badly. What an idiot that would make me! Not only that, what a fool my editor at Oxford University Press was for not telling me. Sheesh! Sack her immediately. No, let’s go for the strong character option, eh?
3. Please don’t criticise a book if it is too young/ old/graphic / babyish for you when you are NOT the target audience.
‘My advice? Don’t read this book if you are over 11/12 years old. It’s not worth it.’
My advice? Read the age advisory sticker on the back of the book. The Simone series is for 8-11 year olds.
Here endeth the writer’s plea.
Having said all that, writing a good review, whatever your opinion of a book, is a real skill. The young girl is obviously an avid reader and the more of those we have in the world the better. For anyone interested I found this advice on how to write a review that I thought covered all the bases.
I’ll go away and lick my wounds now. A small consolation is the reviewer didn’t like Morris Gleitzman’s ‘Then’ or Andy’ Mulligan’s ‘Trash’ either. I’m in good company.
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Every January blog has to have one. That is, a blog about New Year’s Resolutions.
Well this is going to be short and sweet because I haven’t made any. I’ve resolved not to resolve. Why? Because even the simplest ones never work for me. Take this lunchtime. I’m trying to be good, like St. Mary of Portas told me, and support my local shopkeeper so instead of buying my veg from Sainsbury’s I thought I’d go to the greengrocer down the road. What happened? It was closed for lunch.
So instead of resolutions I’ll tell you what I’m hoping to achieve as a writer this year:
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The Daughter had the board game QI as one of her Christmas presents yesterday so in the spirit of Stephen Fry let me bestow upon you knowledge you never knew you needed.
Boxing Day, according to my Ladybird Book of Christmas Customs, goes back to medaeval times when alms boxes were placed at the back of churches to collect money for the poor. The alms boxes were always opened on 26th December.
Alms boxes themselves go back to Roman times. To pay for the celebrations at their winter festival of Saturnalia they used to save money in little earthenware boxes with a slit on top. I think this is a cracking idea and should be brought back ASAP.
December 26th is also St Stephen’s Day. St Stephen was the first man to be martyred for believing in the teachings of Jesus. He was stoned to death.
What is Boxing Day in 2011?
The Spending of the Gift Voucher. This is where all those bits of plastic contained in all those flat little presents you opened yesterday from the relatives who ‘never know what to get you,’ hit the High Street. Watch a thousand faces fall as the shop assistant reveals the meagre amount on the card. ‘Ten quid? Ten lousy quid?’
The First Day of the Sales. If the sales hadn’t started in mid-November because of the recession.
The Eating of the Cold Turkey around the buffet table. Other traditional foods include pork pie with piccalilli and/or pickled onions. It has to be piccalilli, by the way. None of yer fancy ‘chutneys.’
The Emptying of the First Tin of Roses/Quality Street/Celebrations you bought in that ‘unbeatable’ offer in Sainsbury’s. This requires great fortitude. Those orange creams are disgusting. But you will eat them. You know you will eat them.
The Loss of Interest in the Tree. You’ve loved that tree for two weeks but now the fairy lights are not twinkling quite so merrily, are they? And the pine needles aren’t being sucked up the Hoover quite quite the same gusto. Basically, that tree is dead to you now.
The Watching of the Football. Christmas Day felt like it lasted a century and you feel the need for a bit of exercise. You’re not going outside the door, obviously, but there’s loads of sport on the telly, including a full-on footy fixture list. Bring it on.
Enjoy xxx
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The shops are full of Christmas books for children. Raymond Briggs’ Father Christmas is a good one, as is Allan Ahlberg’s Jolly Christmas Postman and I agree with many of the others mentioned on this list which is why I’m not going to compile my own. Lazy or what? Guilty as charged.
Obviously there’s only one true Christmas Story and that’s the one told by Matthew and Luke in the New Testament about the birth of Jesus. Whether you are religious or not, whether you believe it or not, it’s an awesome story, in the true sense of the word.
Luke describes Jesus’ humble birth. There’s no room at the Inn so Mary and Joseph are forced to seek shelter in a stable. There, Mary gives birth to her baby surrounded by animals. Lowly shepherds, alerted by a bright star, are the first visitors. In Matthew’s version that same star guides three kings or wise men to the family. As we all know from attending countless school Nativities the two versions are often melded so that shepherds and wise men meet in the stable as well as angels, sheeps, donkeys and whatever else the teacher throws in.
The Adoration of the Shepherds by Gerard Van Honthorst (d 1656)
One of my favourite Christmas cards this year came from my friend and mentor Gwen Grant It’s a detail of this strained glass window in the Bardardo’s Children’s Church in Barkingside, Essex.
I’ve only written one Christmas story but I’d like to do more. The one I wrote appeared in an anthology published by Usborne in 2004:
The Usborne Book of Christmas Stories
Despite having some cracking stories in it by top authors such as Malorie Blackman, Karen McCrombie, Alison Uttley and Martin Waddell and having fabulous illustrations by Ian P Benfold Haywood it couldn’t compete in the crowded market and is now out of print. It’s such a shame as I am particularly proud of my story Room at the Inn.
It’s based around a village school’s Nativity Play. I remember a teacher telling me about the year the pupil at his school playing the Innkeeper let Mary in. I guess it’s not an original twist but it’s the one I used in my story. In Room at the Inn 10-year old Lucas decides to pad out his role as the Innkeeper. His mate Stephen, in a wheelchair, is playing Joseph. Here’s a short extract. Joseph has just asked if there are any rooms:
Lucas: We’re full to bursting but seeing as these are exceptional circumstances, you can have the kids’ room. They won’t mind bunking up with me and the wife for one night.
Stephen: You what?
Lucas: Breakfast’s eight till ten – will you be wanting full English or Continental?
Stephen (after a pause): Well, full English of course, pal, but hold the black pudding – it makes me trump.
Lucas: No problem. Come in; you’re just in time for the News. That Herod, eh? What a nutter.
Stephen: Tell me about it. I was just saying to Mary -
Mrs Ellison – Lucas Whittaker! Stephen Clay! What do you think you are doing?
Aw! I think I’ll re-read Room at the Inn as a treat. I might see if I can get the rights back, too, and get it on an e-book.
Christmas Eve tomorrow. Awesome!
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