An Awfully Big Blog Adventure View RSS

Children's authors from the UK discuss books, writing, reading and more.

An Ordinary War 22 Jan 9:00 PM (yesterday, 9:00 pm)

This year, I am planning to publish a book which has been a very long time in the making. It's inspired by the experiences of my father during the war: he was one of those who didn't get away at Dunkirk. He was captured on the way, and was a prisoner of war for five years.

Like many - probably most - survivors of war, he didn't talk very much about his experiences. Eventually, he began to tell a few stories, mostly funny ones. Towards the end of the last century, when I started writing seriously, I began to write some of them down. We would sit by the fire drinking whisky - me with ginger, him with water - and he would talk about things that happened in the forests of Poland all those years ago. Often, the stories were the same ones repeated: sometimes, his face would darken, and he would say something that hinted at grimmer truths. Once, we were talking about eating - he always ate hearty meals, but never snacked, never put on weight. He said something to the effect of: "You don't know what you're capable of until you've been really hungry." And then lapsed into silence, clearly remembering things that he wasn't going to talk about.

Some time after he died (which was in 2004), I decided I wanted to write a novel based on his experiences. Because the books I was writing were for children and young people, it seemed natural to aim it at young adults. I soon realised that there were massive gaps in my knowledge about what had happened to him, and I began to do research. I'm not a trained researcher, I'm not an academic - I have a degree, but it's in English, not history. So it was an exploration, perhaps, rather than an investigation.

And it was fascinating, and immensely rewarding.

I will write more in future posts about this process. But in this one, I just want to tell you about one little thing - the thing that, if I was trying to be poetic, I could say fanned what was a spark into a flame.

I knew that at the end of the war, Dad had ended up in a camp called Fallingbostell, in north-western Germany, from which he was liberated and then repatriated. In a book I was reading called The Last Escape (a wonderful book, by John Nichol and Tony Rennell), I came across a picture of several emaciated prisoners sitting on the ground, smiling and chatting. One of them looked very much like Dad. The photo was attributed to the Imperial War Museum, so I rang them up to see if they could tell me any more about the men in the picture.

They suggested I should make an appointment to go and see someone there, so I did.

They couldn't tell me any more about the identities of the men in the picture, but they did give me useful suggestions about other avenues I could follow. Their first suggestion was to go to the National Archives in Kew. Every prisoner who came home was supposed to fill in a form, detailing how they'd been treated, which prison camps they'd been in and so on - information which I didn't have.

So off I trotted to Kew, and explained what I was after. The assistant warned me tat the records were not complete: everyone was supposed to fill in a form, but not everyone did. My heart sank. A trait I shared with my father was a deep dislike of form filling. There wouldn't be one for him, I felt sure.

The assistant produced for me a large folder - I expect now that everything's online, but that wasn't the case then - containing the forms for Dad's section of the alphabet. I turned the pages carefully, aware that this was a precious resource, not really expecting to find one for Dad.

But then, there it was. Reginald Bernard Course. I hadn't expected it to be in his handwriting, instantly recognisable from all the letters I'd received over the years. And it wasn't just the handwriting. The answers were brief and to the point, and some were quite brusque. I could absolutely picture Dad, impatient with forms and pen-pushers, wanting to be away, wanting to go home, not interested in making a fuss about what had happened to him. I could almost hear his voice. I stared at the form, and tears came. I wiped them away surreptitiously, and hoped that no-one had seen.

Brief as the form was, it gave me some answers. it told me where he'd been. It told me he'd tried to escape, three times, once with his old pal Shep, whom I'd taken him to see a few years before.

And it gave me the urge to carry on, to follow the trail.

On deadlines & writing deliciousness - Rowena House 20 Jan 4:00 PM (4 days ago)

Oops! Long time no post. Apologies. My excuse: I’m finally on a deadline after nigh on six years nibbling away at my seventeenth-century witch trial work-in-progress, with three (max four) months to get Draft 1 developed, polished, and proof read, including an entirely new narrative perspective on the same events, told in alternate chapters, decided upon last year.

So, about one quarter to one third of a novel to write in three/months. That’s do-able, right?

The writing gods are [ATM] being kind in letting me get on with it, but that’s very unlikely to last on recent form with life duties, so I’m writing and editing daily whenever I can.

Updates on RowenaHouseAuthor on Facebook if anyone feels like joining me for this last dash, followed by more reflective thoughts about the story, its history, how I’ve bent history and invented stuff, and whether that’s justifiable etc. That’ll be from May-September as I write the critical commentary for the PhD, of which the novel is the main part.

More good news. I have four readers! Two supervisors and two examiners. Hurrah. While not exactly No. 1 bestseller stuff, four readers are enough to order myself not to waste their time with any residual Draft 1 slop (slop being a 2026 version of Hemingway’s more graphic/honest description of Draft 1).

Luckily, last November, when I should have been writing an ABBA post, I was en route to one of the classiest, most instructive and motivational retreats I’ve ever been on.

It was a week at the Moniack Mhor writing centre in the hills outside Inverness, Scotland, a place that lots of fine writers have recommended and was high on my wish-list even before they announced that the historical fiction retreat would be led by Lucy Jago, author of A Net for Small Fishes, set just after mine and a lovely, very well-researched read, and Andrew Miller – squee – fresh off the Booker shortlist, whose Land in Winter was the winner in bookshop if (sadly) not on the podium. His Pure has been a touchstone for the voice of this WiP for years and a comfort go-to read for more than a decade.

To top it all, the other retreaters were super talented, including a dear writer friend off the MA in writing for young people at Bath Spa, Eden Enfield, whose prose for both young people and adult I vastly admire. Honestly, who needs to get published when such deliciousness awaits?

To keep the deliciousness going, I’m thrilled to have been invited by another writer-for-young-people-turned-adult-historical-novelist, Liz Flanagan, to one of her launch events for her English civil war novel, When We Were Divided.

So looking forward to celebrating its publication with her up in Heptonstall next month (where I haven’t been since 1985) and then getting lost in her story.

Happy writing, editing, reading, plotting, dreaming.

PS I got both copies signed. :0)

Turning an argument around? By Steve Way 19 Jan 10:00 PM (4 days ago)

Hello. I hope it’s not too late to wish you a happy, healthy, prosperous and well published 2026!

Just sharing a few idle thoughts, the tenuous link between them being that they are linked to the fascinating way we use language, often in ways that don’t make logical sense.

For one thing, why do we insist on calling it a ‘duvet’ when the French call it ‘une couette’? If we’re going to steal from other languages, we could at least do so correctly! For years the adverts for Audi cars ended with the phrase ‘Vorsprung durch technik… as we say in Germany’. I once asked a German student what that phrase meant and he looked at me blankly. He’d never heard that phrase before and insisted that they would never say it in Germany!?!

This morning, quarter of an hour before I was due to give an online lesson to a couple of Spanish students, we had a power cut and therefore no internet connection. I sent an email explaining the situation to the teaching agency I work with. The reply asked me whether I thought we should cancel the lesson, or whether I would be able to sign on in five or ten minute or not. I wasn’t sure if I should feel complimented or exasperated at the thought that they believed I could psychically predict how long a power cut would be.

There’s a phrase I’ve heard used many times, though one occasion that sticks particularly clearly in my mind was when I heard a lady passionately describing a heated discussion she’d had and declared, “And then, she turns around and says…” My first thought was to wonder if that meant that the lady she’d been arguing with now had her back to her. How rude. No wonder lady number one was upset. Alternatively, was object-of-derision lady originally facing away from deriding-lady and had she now turned around to confront her? More bizarrely, did she perhaps spin around balletically through 360 degrees, believing this would add drama, weight and credibility to her cause? As on other occasions I was too timid to interrupt deriding-lady, who was now if full flow, to explore these options with her, which on reflection was probably for the best.

I also find it funny when people say things like, ‘It was the last place I looked’. Would you continue looking for something you’ve already found? When someone for example ask a lady, ‘Can you give me your number?’ I always want to say ‘One… there’s only one of her’. Do you perhaps want her phone number?’ I’m also tempted to pick a chair up off the floor when someone says, ‘Pull up a chair’. Shouldn’t it be ‘pull along a chair?’ My long-suffering wife often insists, when sharing a cake or such like, ‘you have the bigger half’. Well in my defence on that last one, I do sometimes teach maths. Wouldn’t it be somehow wonderful though if the concept of ‘the bigger half’ could be introduced into the GCSE syllabus? Technically inaccurate, though real life.

A comment that amused my wife recently was when she asked about the length of a coat being sold online. The brilliantly unhelpful response was, ‘Well, I’m five foot two and it comes down to my knees’. In my case I can’t help wondering if those are metric knees or imperial?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve just self-published what’s effectively a work of many years, a compilation of ideas I’ve used to inspire creative writing called ‘Reluctant Writers Resource’. What amuses me most, as it contains many sections, is that the paperback version weighs over a kilogramme!*

The original idea was to provide ‘an idea a week to stimulate creative writing’, with the aim of giving teachers springboards for writing to encompass the 38 weeks of the school year, though in the end there are a lot more than 38 sections. The example pieces used to get the children’s creative juices flowing vary in length and complexity but the core of them are deliberately short, with the aim of not outfacing the children and supporting them in believing they could write pieces of similar length. I’ve road tested the ideas in many schools in the UK and abroad and they’ve always worked well. Many teachers told me that they’d never seen their children, including the reluctant writers, produce so much work!

*At least there’s one way in which it’s a weighty tome!

Reluctant Writers Resource: An 'idea-a-week' resource to inspire creative writing

Kindle ASIN : B0GF8RQ7WX

Paperback ISBN : 979 – 8241950987

Hardback ISBN : 979 - 8242528680

Let's all talk about ourselves - by Lu Hersey 18 Jan 4:00 PM (6 days ago)

When I was a child, my grandmother came to live with us. Born and bred in Yorkshire, she still had a strong Yorkshire accent after half a century of living in Surrey, where she and her husband moved after their first child was born. Here's a photo of her with me and our dog Bumble (a long time ago, obviously).

One of Grandma's favourite sayings was "I've that many stories to tell, I should write a book!" In fact her stories were almost on a tape loop, consisting entirely of things she wanted to remember, and many that made her laugh, As a teenager, I'd bring my friend Gina home for tea sometimes after school, and buy jam donuts on the way - just so we could hear her jam donut story. It went like this:

"Our Pauline once had a job int' donut factory, but she got t'sack for putting too much jam int' donuts!"

She'd laugh at the memory, and being mean teens, we'd laugh too, but only because we'd set her up to tell the same old tale. Of course I'd love to hear her tell it again now. To this day I miss my grandma and her collection of stories, and regret not asking more about the rest of her life outside the golden moments. Things my mother told me later, that grandma never mentioned.

Like how Grandma was the one who found her father after he'd slit his throat in the bath, the year before she was due to be married. About her child, Bessie May, she'd loved so much, who died of pneumonia when only two years old. The tragic side of the life of a woman who was the thirteenth of fourteen children, had knitted socks for a brother fighting in the Boer War (she told me about that herself, though the story was about learning to knit socks, not what happened to the brother). She'd survived two world wars and a lot of harrowing experiences. But the stories were always about holiday larks, and pranks her Percy (my grandfather) had played, and fireside tales of her family life back in Yorkshire. The first car that drove through her village, the first aeroplane she saw. Things of joy and wonder. And I admire her for having such a wonderfully selective memory. Seeing the best in life.

Of course, many people want to relate the sad, or tragic elements of their lives, and their stories are equally valid. I'm currently on a memoir writing course - not because I want to write my own memoir, but because remembering forgotten aspects of your own life is a fascinating exercise, and I'm really interested in how everyone tells their stories.

The course is held by writer Jenny Alexander, who holds inspirational workshops on various aspects of writing (see https://jennyalexander.co.uk/) for anyone of any writing ability. In the memoir writing workshops, I'm learning that by focusing in on something small - a favourite object or perhaps one seemingly insignificant experience - you can suddenly bring back memories of an entire era in your life.

Whether you're interested in memoir writing or not, focussing on detail is an important key to any story. I see an element of truth in what my grandmother said all those years ago. You don't have to write a book about it, but we all have interesting life stories to tell. AI just steals stories from us. If nothing else, writing about your own life reminds you that you have something AI can never have - lived experience.

by Lu Hersey

PS Here's my grandma's Yorkshire parkin recipe, hand written by her. One of my favourite memories is the smell and taste of her wonderful parkin...

https://www.lu-hersey.com/

New You For Ever, written by Steve Cole, illustrated by Chris King, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart 14 Jan 3:30 PM (10 days ago)

The title of this book makes it sound like a self-help manual, but its actually a futuristic thriller aimed at teenage readers. Published by Barrington Stoke, it's a short novel designed to be accessible to struggling readers. It's fast-paced, exciting and thought-provoking.

Anders works with his Dad on a short good news slot of television news. But this is in a future where climate change has destroyed much of our world and enabled those in power to manipulate world populations. The immediate threat is being advertised as a panacea. Swap your human body for a Pleeka one, short of 'Replica'. Those fake bodies are perfect, not needing food or exericise or to learn anything, and they'll never get ill. They're already programmed, even promising perfect dancing skills! They're sold as a solution to climate breakdown because they save on foods and medicines. But their batteries die, and only the richest can afford to replace them. And how much power is used to create them? Worse than that, the authorities can control Pleekas. In a clock-ticking life or death adventure, we battle with Anders to get the truth out to the world, and change things for the better.

A story to make young people think about the future ahead for themselves and their world, and to question what is, and isn't, true.

The Rock From the Sky, by Jon Klassen (Anne Rooney) 13 Jan 12:53 AM (11 days ago)

Cover of The rock from the sky; shows a toroise and another animal looking at a flower under a large sky

This is perhaps a bit of a cheat but instead of waffling on to you today I'd like to direct you to this interview with Jon Klassen from 2021 about his book The Rock From the Sky. There are three things that make it particularly interesting. One is Klassen's stated desire to write a quiet book, and his explanation of the static images. I often hear authors complain that agents and editors turn down their books because they are too quiet; it's great to see this defence and explanation of quiet-done-properly. Second, Klassen cites his influences as including Samuel Becket and Stanley Kubrick. I love this. It never occurs to people outside the sphere of children's books that children's authors are influeced by (or even read/view) work by serious intellectuals whose work is intended for adults. (A book I'm currently working on is influenced by Kant and J.S.Mill, among others.) Finally, and most importantly, I love Klassen's account of how he likes to challenge the picture book format and how some of his books have been spawned by anger yet spin that anger into gold. This brilliant challenge to the dreary, oven-ready 'show don't tell' advice, for example:

"I want boring pictures that have something exciting as their context. So usually that’s emotional. If you tell the audience that this character is having a horrible day or that something’s really wrong, but you don’t draw that, then they get to load that drawing with emotion."

See read this interview on Tyger Tale instead of waiting for me to say something insightful.

Anne Rooney

Out now, Dec 2025, Arcturus publishing:

The Essential Book of AI

USING COLOUR IN CHILDREN'S BOOKS - PURPLE. By Sharon Tregenza 8 Jan 4:00 PM (16 days ago)

PURPLE

Purple is a particularly interesting colour in children's literature because it evokes both imagination and emotion. It crosses the calm stability of blue with the energetic warmth of red. For children this can mix feelings of magic with creativity and curiousity.

Its often feels special because it's not so common in the natural world. That makes children associate it with make-believe and fantasy.

Authors and illustrators use purple to invite children into a world that is different while still feeling safe.

Three books that use the colour purple to great effect:

In "Harold and the Purple Crayon" by Crocket Johnson it's used to depict imagination. Harold's purple crayon creates a special world around him. It symbolises safety in exploration.

"Purple Green and Yellow" by Robert Munsch. The colour purple in this book stands out as bold and different. It's used for themes of independent expression which is valuable for children just learning about identity.

"The Gruffalo" by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler. The purple prickles on the Gruffalo emphasises his magical nature. It's used here to signal mystery without fear helping children process tension in a non-threatening way.

In children's books purple tells young readers that this book is magical but also safe. It's an important visual aid that deepens a psychological connection to the story for children.

www.sharontregenza.com

sharontregenza@gmail.com

Members' News January 6 Jan 10:00 PM (17 days ago)

Welcome to the first round-up of Scattered Authors news of 2026 and congratulations to everyone with a book out this month. Wishing us all a happy and successful year.

This month is the annual writing retreat at Folly Farm in Somerset where are group of scattered authors are looking forward to getting together to eat drink, write and be merry. The zoom spotlight sessions will also be running, quarterly this year. Look out for details.

New Books

A reminder from the December round-up that Jane Wickenden has seven stories in this intriguing and beautiful volume, Myths in Isolation, from Orkneyology Press, with the artwork of Katherine Soutar. The book is now available to buy. You can find full details and buy a copy here

Moira Butterfield has a new book out on January 8th. "It's called Star, Moon, Zoom. It's a playful look at space for 4-8 year olds, illustrated by Spanish artist Ro Ledesmo. The published - Happy Yak (Quarto) - let me do what I liked with the layouts so I had lots of fun with it."

https://www.quarto.com/books/9781836002130/star-moon-zoom

Paula Harrison has a book out on the 15th January. It’s the first in a new series called Animagicals published by Nosy Crow. The first book is Mia’s Tiger and it’s illustrated by Erwin Madrid.

https://nosycrow.com/product/animagicals-mias-tiger/

Animagicals are children born with the power to change into an animal. They can change into any animal and they need help controlling their ability until they find their true form – the animal they are destined to be. Will they fly like an eagle, leap like a leopard or skulk like a fox? Come and join them at Wildhaven, a magical school set up to protect and train animagicals in a magical forest hidden from the ordinary world.

If you have any news you'd like publicised - new book, an award, an event, send the details to Claire Fayers

Carnegie Extras by Paul May 3 Jan 9:00 PM (20 days ago)

I've spent some time this last year compiling all those Carnegie posts I wrote for this blog into a book. It looks like this. That's the only copy, right there!

As well as a little bit about every winner of the Carnegie Medal up until 2024 the book contains drawings of more than 20 of the authors by my daughter, Emily May. I made the book mainly for me and it's been fun doing it. There may be only one real book in existence right now, but the whole thing is available from me, FOR FREE, as a PDF. If you head over to my blog/website As In The Long Ago and leave a message there, along with your email, I'll send you the PDF. Real books may also be available eventually, but only if enough people are interested to make it viable. Please contact me as above if you're interested.

A very happy new year to everyone!

Hope by Emily Dickinson - Joan Lennon 2 Jan 4:30 PM (22 days ago)

Hope

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

(Poetry Foundation)

It's a new year. Here's to hope.

Joan Lennon website

Joan Lennon Instagram

HAPPY NEW YEAR AND GOOD WISHES FOR 2026 by Penny Dolan 1 Jan 1:06 AM (23 days ago)

January 1st 2026.

New Year has always carried a strange aura. As a child, I sensed a thread of wistful melancholy running through all the glitter and jollity, and for decades the opening notes of ‘Old Land Syne’ brought me to ugly tears. Why and when, I wonder, did that stop? And yet it did.

I do still love that magical, illusory sense of pause as the year ends. I am caught by the odd trick of the empty calendar, the unmarked pages of one's new diary or journal. For a moment - and oh-so-very-lucky me, I know – there’s a sense of peace and opportunity and hope out there in the clear days ahead. I hope the new year will be good to you too.

Meanwhile, back to the post I originally wrote for today . . .

Choices, choices.

This coming Saturday - January 3rd - groups of Young Farmers will drive around our streets, collecting up unwanted Christmas trees. The trees, stripped and bare, are cast out of their homes the night before. They loll, unwanted, against hedges and gate-posts, like New Year revellers that never quite made it home.

Early that morning, the Young Farmer’s truck and trailer will come rumbling down the cul-de sac. A group of sturdy, still-almost-young men will stride alongside, throwing the flailing trees into the back of the giant trailer in the manner of legendary giants. The trees are crushed and stacked together by a couple of bolder Young Farmers, standing heroically upright in the trailer. In they come, the YF, and off they go, taking all the discarded trees off to be shredded and used for animal bedding or something equally rural and useful.

The YF are doing a good thing. The unwanted Christmas trees raise money: people make a donation for every tree collected, with the funds split between the Young Farmer’s Association own support services and a large local Hospice. All of this is good and noble, and all is well,

But oh, something in me rebels against that morning. January 3rd? Why do the Young Farmer’s chose such an early date? (I know, I know.)

I recently saw a social media boast about ‘took my tree down on Boxing Day’ and it seemed so untimely to me. So very careless of custom and tradition, which I like to believe, is not necessarily the same as the huge marketing pushes that start around October. Perhaps their tree went up on November 6th?

From my ancient lady point of view, we should not be taking our Christmas trees down so swiftly. Trees disappeared late on 5th January, known as Twelfth Night, the eve before 6th January, the Epiphany or 'Three Kings' Day, when the Infant was shown to the world. You could keep those emptying branches glittering away until 2nd February, Candlemas, and the end of the Christmas season.

So The Young Farmers are coming, for me, much too early! I am stuck here, pondering. The third or not the third?

I do love our Christmas tree and don’t want it to depart. Do I give in to rough convenience, strip the branches of light and glitter, and shove the poor thing out into the cold and dark, like a feeble Hans Christian Andersen story extra?

Or should My Tree stand dressed and lovely, with all its lights shining brightly, with me alongside, resolutely drinking my morning coffee as the tumbrils go by. Tonight, that scene, that version is where my heart is. I can make the charity donation anyway.

However, somewhere, I hear a small, practical voice, whispering firmly about how extremely well pine needles embed themselves into car upholstery . .

Choices, choices!

Penny Dolan

PS. The 'tree' piece above was inspired, at quite an angle, by the following:
‘The photograph of the past changes with time and yet it remains the same, In other words, a tree is a tree until you know how or when it was planted or by whom. Once you know then it is no longer a tree. It is symbolic. It is a series of stories. It has a truth.’ Lemn Sissay.

Quoted in ‘Write It All Down: How to put your life on the page’ by Cathy Rentsenbrink.

Bringing my dead dad home for Christmas 18 Dec 2025 4:00 PM (last month)

This will be the first year in a long time that I haven't had to drive down to Plymouth on Christmas day to cook my father's Christmas dinner - or like last year, visit him in the care home to chat to him while he ate his. I moaned about making this trip every year. It nearly always poured with rain and the motorway journey was a nightmare. Also, my father had no idea about cooking, which meant taking everything with me. Literally everything. Turkey, veg, even the cooking oil, seasoning and roasting tins.

His contribution was to insist he'd already bought the potatoes, so there was no need to bring any. The family called it #potatogate. A maximum of three potatoes in a bag (if we were lucky), usually already sprouting. Basically, enough for him. It happened every year.

Despite all this, I'll miss #potatogate. I'll even miss that journey.

He died in January this year. The day he died, the family raced down in the worst of weather to see him. The rain was apocalyptic and the motorway was partly flooded, and I could almost feel my dad calling to us in the howling wind. He was a very cautious man. He would definitely have told us to turn back.

He was already dead, but I wanted to see him anyway. One last time. Entering his room, he looked almost cheerful lying on his bed, wearing his best blue stripy pyjamas. At that precise moment, the rain stopped, clouds parted and a shaft of sunlight poured onto on his face through the open window. (There were reasons the care home had the window open, which I won't go into - but in the sunlight it felt like his exit route out, free at last.)

Since his funeral, his ashes have been stored at the funeral home. They sent me a letter this month, reminding me he was there, and letting me know his free storage time was nearly up.

What do you do with ashes? He hadn't made any requests himself, mostly because he thought he was immortal. Towards the end in the care home, he'd even asked me to get a refund on his funeral plan as he didn't need it. Fortunately his failing memory meant he didn't follow up on that one, but it was just as well he'd mentioned it, as I'd no idea he even had one. The plan covered the funeral, but said nothing about what he wanted done with his ashes.

While the family decides (I favour scattering them where he dumped his last wife's), I'm thinking of driving down to collect him in time for Christmas. I even wondered about taking him to my daughter's place for Christmas dinner (I haven't told her, so probably best leave him outside in the car). I might even take him to his favourite beach before we start the journey.

I recognise this is more for me than for him. He wasn't a sentimental man at all and probably couldn't care less. He kept my mother in the wardrobe for months.

I often wonder if he told his next girlfriend she was in there...

Anyway, if you're stuck with difficult journeys and annoying relatives this festive season, remember no one lasts forever, and one day you might even miss them.

Whatever you're doing, I wish you all a merry Christmas.

Lu Hersey

"76 ways to make Christmas simple" by Steve Way 16 Dec 2025 7:00 PM (last month)

It’s that time of year when magazines become full of articles such as, "76 Ways to make Christmas Simple" for which the title effortlessly and completely negates the premise behind the piece.

I was wondering if there could be titles for any other books or articles that would also undermine them in a similar fashion. I’ve had a few ideas and would love to see yours – maybe including real titles you know of already! Back in the day, I remember a series with the linked “Made simple” title, such as “Quantum Physics made simple”, which seemed to give away their failure to live up to their promise by all being roughly as long as “War and Peace”.

How about…

“The Bumper Book of positive things to say about politicians”

(This edition actually comes with pages!)

~~~~~

“A million and one bleedin’ obvious reasons why FIFA shouldn’t award a Peace Prize”

People who were daft enough to buy this also bought “My zero most reliable statements about resolving conflict” by Neville Chamberlain. (This edition soon to be updated with added contributions unfortunately.)

~~~~~

For football lovers (perhaps…)

“1001 ways of possibly understanding the offside rule and it’s reliable execution by referees”

(Can be paired with, “4 million ways of actually caring”.)

~~~~~

For younger readers…

“204 reasons why we love going to school and doing homework!”

~~~~~

In the fantasy section…

“400 ways to avoid having your latest manuscript rejected”

Useful to purchase with, “50 ways not to be completely devastated and demoralised.”

~~~~~

And as it’s coming up to Christmas…

“-6 ways of avoiding your in-laws for Christmas”*

*We didn’t think we’d be able to reach that high a number!

~~~~~

Happy Christmas everyone – I hope you enjoy it in a variety of ways!

Mullets, by Nick Sharratt, reviewed by Pippa Goodhart 14 Dec 2025 3:30 PM (last month)

If you, or a small person you know enjoy the completely daft, then this wonderful picture book is for you.

'Lets spend a whiles

on Mullet Isle.

Everyone there

has SPECIAL hair!'

They all, people, cats, frogs, sharks, even bumble bees have mullet hair styles, and we're given a guide so that we, too, can become expert in spotting the iconic 1970s mullet hairstyle.

All fun and good, but how is Nick Sharratt going to conclude this fun in a satisfying way? I'm not going to tell you because it would spoil things for you, but I can promise you not one, but two, final spreads which both deliver laugh out loud surprises!

AI takes over or people don't read? Or both? (Anne Rooney) 12 Dec 2025 11:24 PM (last month)

Photo: health.harvard.edu
In a sense, AI fiction is very like over-processed
food as you don't know what's in it, it's entirely artificial
and its production and consumption are exploitative
Well, which is it? Either, neither or both?
There is plenty of doom-saying around and no way of knowing which way the tide will actually flow. On the one hand, a recently published survey from Cambridge University revealed 51% of novelists believe AI-generated trashy fiction will damage their career and income. At the same time, other surveys have found that people aren't reading. The National Literacy Trust found that just one in three children aged 8-18 enjoy reading for pleasure.

Is AI going to churn out books for people who don't read them?

The most at-risk group of novelists, it appears, are genre writers — those who write romance, in particular, but also thrillers and crime. These are plot-focused genres, and plot is the thing that AI is likely to be best at doing as it's just 'one thing after another', a series of external happenings. Obviously a plot is more than this: it relies on revealing a sequence that looks inevitable after the event but is not obvious in advance, in tying it to the psychology of the characters, in balancing plausibility and surprise, and so on. But a poor-quality genre novel is more plot than anything else, and so more likely to be achieved by AI than is, say, a literary novel of tortured psychological investigation. I am not dissing either of these; they are just different.

When non-writers say they have an idea for a novel, the idea is generally a plot. They don't usually have a character they want to explore or a writing style they want to exercise, though those may be starting points for an established or accomplished writer. Putting a plot outline to AI and getting it to flesh it out is fairly easy for both the putative writer and the AI. Hence the proliferation of plot-driven AI so-called fiction.

It seems likely, as many people have said, that the market will split into expensive human-authored books and cheap or free AI slop. Probably, some people will buy both, especially if they are not clearly labelled. If publishers see people paying £17 for a paperback by a real author, are they going to think they might as well charge that for their AI-produced books? Why wouldn't they? Principally because the sales will be so small. If you can sell 100,000 copies for £1 but only 1500 copies for £17, you're better off with the 100,000 copies (£100,000 v. £25,500). People will soon decide what they like and what they can afford. I will buy the £17 books when I can and read old books or borrow from libraries when I can't.

Ah, libraries. Will they stock the AI-generated books? There are good arguments on both sides. If they are cheaply available, libraries can afford them. If people do want to read them, surely they should be avaiable? But if people want to read real books that they can't afford, isn't it the job of libraries to provide those? Libraries already have to make decisions about what to stock, which licenses to online magazines and journals to pay for, and so on. They do stock genre fiction. They don't buy subscriptions to cheap rags or fill their shelves with the cheapest trashy fiction (apart from anything else, the poor quality of the physical books means they will fall apart quickly).

If reading is declining, who is still reading? Is it the people like us (as in, readers of blogs about books —people who are genuinely interested and committed readers)? If so, won't we be inclined to favour human-authored books? If people (people in general now) find the quality of the books they get is deteriorating, will they just switch their attention to other platforms even more quickly? So the AI-generated books might accelerate the decrease in reading rates, to their own cost. This is another reason why we need really clear labelling.

Readers should be able to buy a book (if they want to) that honestly reflects the experience of being human because it was written by a human. They should also be able to make a fair judgment about what they are likely to get. An AI-generated novel might have a coherent plot and a story you want to read, and you might not care that it doesn't reflect the genuine experience of being a human individual. But if you do care, you shouldn't be duped. If you buy books that disappoint you, you will stop buying books. If you buy books you know are produced by AI and they disappiont you, you might try buying a human-authored book instead.

Many, many markets divide by quality and cost. You can go to the deli and spend a lot on an artisan cheese or you can go to Aldi and buy budget 'hard cheese'. You can buy a top from Shein or go to Next or M&S and buy a mid-price item or you can go to a designer store or have something handmade by a talented craftsperson. We know people want to get what they are paying for. Look at the outcry when fraudsters stock their Etsy store with mass produced stuff at inflated prices. With honesty, we can keep readers buying books. Without it, AI will pour trash into a depleting market, undermining and disappointing everyone.

Anne Rooney

Out now, Arcturus 2025: The Essential Book of AI

The Crocodile on the Bus – Capturing memories before the Elephant forgets by Lynda Waterhouse 10 Dec 2025 10:00 PM (last month)

This is the second community short film I’ve produced in two years with funding from Southwark Council’s Neighbourhood Fund. It was twelve months in the making, on an excruciatingly low budget, drawing on tons of favours and goodwill and leaving me a bag of nerves.

Never one to make life easy for myself by following the exact same model as its companion, ‘The Old Cow in the Kitchen’ completed in 2024.

https://www.southwark.gov.uk/southwark-presents/film-month-old-cow-kitchen-and-other-stories-2024)

I wanted this film to generate some new creative work so I invited Paul Taylor to write a poem using some of the old photographs of the area. He produced three stunning poems. Sara Byers composed a song based on some of the accounts of cinemagoers to the iconic and long demolished Trocadero Cinema.

Our filmmaking process to the onlooker must have appeared lackadaisical and random but it was a deliberate decision on mine and filmmaker Ludmilla Andrews’s part not to simply ‘interview’ people. We wanted to take our time, share conversations, laughter and cake, trusting that the stories would eventually unfold. This meant that we built lasting friendships but also that Ludmilla had a huge task editing all the material. It also meant that some surprising stories emerged.

How many times have people said, mainly at funerals, ‘I wished I had asked them about... and now we’ll never know.’ Another aim of the project was to remind people to have those conversations and overcome any shyness about asking certain questions.

Working on this project also held up a mirror to my own writing process reminding me that I always start a writing project with a character who interests me and often come up with a title long before the story is fully formed. Then comes a first draft followed by a long editing and cutting period.

So as the holiday season approaches and family and friends gather, now might be the perfect time to ask those questions. Go on I dare you!

USING COLOUR IN CHILDREN'S BOOKS - ORANGE 8 Dec 2025 4:00 PM (last month)

ORANGE

Orange is a bold warm colour. It can make young readers feel excited and ready for adventure. The mix of yellow's cheerfulness and red's excitement creates a perfect combination.

Orange will boost imagination and grab attention in a fun, friendly way.

Here are some examples of illustrators using the colour orange to its best advantage:

The Gruffalo's bright orange eyes are instantly recognisable and create a feeling of warmth and affection for the lovable menace.

This book is fully created around the word and colour orange. It's used perfectly in the storytelling as well as the artwork.

Who doesn't recognise Judith Kerr's wonderful orange tiger in her famous book "The Tiger who came to Tea"? His bright orange coat dominates the pages and makes him a friendly rather than frightening character.

www.sharontregenza.com

sharontregenza@gmail.com

News Round-Up of 2025 6 Dec 2025 10:00 PM (last month)

A big thank you to everyone who sent their news in this year. It's great to see so many books published, schools visited, awards won.

Here's a run-down of the whole year. If you're looking for Christmas gifts, do take a look and support your fellow Sassies.

January - March

Dancing Dumplings by Eva Wong Nada, illustrated by Natelle Quek
My Mum, by Susan Quinn, illustrated Sarah Mathew
The Welsh language edition of Behind Closed Doors by Miriam Halahm
World of Wanda by Karen McCombie
Gathering the Glimmers written and illustrated by Ffion Jones
I Don't Do Mountains by Barbara Henderson
Paperback edition: Talking History: 150 Years of Speakers and Speeches, by Joan Haig and Joan Lennon, illustrated by Andre Ducci.

Plus hundreds of school visits, putting thousands of books into the hands of excited readers.

April - June

Food For All, and David, the Unauthorised Biography, both by Mary Hoffman

Project Pony by Camilla Chester

Valley of the Vikings by Liz Kessler

Land of the Last Wildcat by Lui Sit launched as Waterstones's Book of the Month

The Lucky House Detective Agency by Lui Sit, writing as Scarlett Li

You Choose Bedtime by Pippa Goodheart, illustrated by Nick Sharratt

Naeli and the Secret Song by Jasbinder Bilan

Plus a shortlisting for Cobalt, by Sue Klauber

July - September

The Secret Life of Clouds by Moira Butterfield, illustrated Vivian Mineker

Will Wolfheart by Teresa Heapy

My Sister is a Treasure by Tracy Darnton, illustrated by Yasmeen Ismail

One Cat, Two Cats by Jonathan Emmett, illustrated by Rob Hodgson

How to Build a Planet (illustrated by Clare Elsom) and Snore, Sneeze, Burp (illustrated by Ro Ledesma) both by Moira Butterfield

True Friends by Sheena Wilkinson

Plus a long-listing for Look What I Found by the River by Moira Butterfield

October - November

The Stalker by Teri Terry - her first adult book

Hidden Toxins by Helen Larder

Swanfall by Sophie Kirtley

Landscape with Mines by Anna Bowles

Pomegranates for Peace, by Miriam Halahmy

Miss McVey Takes Charge by Sheena Wilkinson

And, finally for this year, some exciting extra news items:

Katherine Langrish wrote an essay called 'The Door in the Mound' for a book on writing fantasy published by Dead Ink, titled 'Writing the Magic' and available in paperback now. Her essay was the only one on writing fantasy for children, well worth getting hold of.

Jane Wickenden has seven stories in this intriguing collection, Myths in Isolation, coming January.

I will continue news round-ups on the 7th of each month. You can send me your items at any time.

Thanks!

Claire

www.clairefayers.com

Reading in Spanish by Paul May 3 Dec 2025 9:00 PM (last month)

Lately, as part of my attempt to improve my Spanish, I've been reading books mainly in that language. The first book I got hold of was a set of literary short stories in a dual-language edition. This proved unsatisfactory in several ways. Firstly, and I should have thought of this, literary fiction of most kinds is often more demanding than thrillers and romance. Text in Spanish is demanding enough for me without having to struggle to understand what the writer is getting at. Secondly, a dual-language text is not necessarily a word-for-word translation and it turns out that, for me at least, it works better to translate individual words and figure out the sense for myself. And, thirdly, the selection of stories in that particular book didn't grip me.

Next I picked up a copy, in Spanish, of Edna O'Brien's The Country Girls. But with this one I became distracted by the fact that the English text was so beautifully written and the Spanish translation never seemed quite right. In fact I was so distracted that I ended up reading the whole Country Girls trilogy in English.

Then, browsing in Foyles, I came across a thriller. This seemed like a good idea. Up-to-date dialogue and a page-turning plot to motivate me. Best-selling author. What could go wrong? Not much as it turned out.

The book I chose was Todo Vuelve by Juan Goméz Jurado. This is a violent, action-filled thriller, and it was the first book I read from beginning to end in Spanish. However, this was only possible with the help of Google. If I'd had to sit with a dictionary by my side, pausing every dozen words or so to look something up, I'd never have done it. My process was to try to read a page and get the sense of it, then take a pic and translate the text to clarify everything. The book was about 500 pages long, so a dual-language version could never have worked, but I was amazed by the sophistication of Google Translate. It can even translate idioms into their English equivalent - for example, the Spanish pull your hair rather than pulling your leg and Google knows to translate one with the other.

It was after I finished that book that I began to think about matters of style and judgement. It's very hard to judge the pace of a book when you're reading it a page at a time and stopping frequently to translate. For almost the first time in years I was reading every word. I had the feeling that the pace of the book was a bit slow, that everything seemed to take a long time, but of course it was taking a long time, for me. Maybe it was like the Reacher books, where one of Lee Child's trademarks is his ability to spend a couple of pages describing Reacher opening a door or taking a weapon apart.

And then there was this author's fondness for strange similes and metaphors. Was it because I wasn't Spanish that they didn't really work for me? I couldn't tell. But there was no doubt that the whole process was helping my Spanish, so I went looking for more thrillers and found a writer called Roberto Martínez Guzmán. His thrillers were set in Galicia and it helped that I'd been to that part of Spain and recognised many of the locations. There was enough interest in his books to carry me along, and I could see that the author had used various mechanisms common to many English language crime writers, for example the detective's liking for a type of music that acts as a shorthand for outlining their character. However, as my reading became more fluent I began to notice things that could have been helped by a bit of editing and I also suspected that these books had started out self-published on Amazon. My suspicions increased when I asked after the author in a bookshop in Spain and the proprietor had never heard of him.

Next I discovered the novels of Cristian Perfumo, thrillers set in Patagonia and Barcelona. These were fun, too, but as my ability to read improved (and my Kindle started saying things like 'ten minutes left in chapter' rather than 'three hours left in chapter') I began to notice things I hadn't noticed before. I started asking myself, if this was in English would I have read it? Finally, it occurred to me to search for lists of the top Spanish crime writers on the internet. None of the authors I'd been reading appeared on those lists, and when I looked for Kindle editions of these recommended books they were all much more expensive than the ones I'd been reading. Maybe this was a clue. I bought one of them (the cheapest!) El último barco by Domingo Villar. I noticed immediately that Villar has a distinctive style. The plot proceeds slowly but the detailed descriptions of landscapes and interiors are of a different quality to the other books I've read. All children's authors know that making description interesting is both tricky and essential. Like Guzmán's books, these are set in Galicia, but the landscape comes to life in an entirely different way. There came a moment, about three chapters in, when I finished a paragraph and thought, Wow! that was really great writing.

I've also read a couple of children's books in Spanish. I've written quite a few football-based books, so I couldn't resist Los Futbolísmos when I found the first volume of the series in a bookshop. It's a completely different kind of football story to anything I've come across in the UK - aimed at 8-9-year-olds and above, it's almost 300 pages long! It's also highly illustrated. And the series is incredibly successful in Spain. The best thing about it from the point of view of a learner of Spanish is that it's full of natural, up-to-date (ish) idiomatic dialogue. But, despite the fact that I am considerably more than 9 years old, I still needed help from Google to read this. If I could read, speak and understand Spanish as well as a 9-year-old Spanish child I think I'd be happy.

And, finally, I should mention Don Quixote. I've tried and failed a few times to read this hugely long book, and I have succeeded at last. I found a children's edition in Spanish and it was only 70 pages long. Maybe one day I'll read the original. Maybe.

Bish, Bash, Bosh - Joan Lennon 2 Dec 2025 4:30 PM (last month)

It's hard to believe it's nearly a decade since I posted about adjective order in the insane world of English language. Definitely time for another snippet of something that has no immediately obvious good reason behind it, but just sounds right.

Yup, I'm talking about Ablaut reduplication. (Thank you Merriam-Webster's recent Facebook page.)

English words have vowels. If you have a string of three words, you put them in an order where the vowels are

I - A - O.

If there are only two words, the order of vowel is either

I - A

I -O.

Some examples, you ask? Merriam-Webster and the internet are happy to oblige:

tic-tac-toe, Big Bad Wolf, Live Laugh Love, splish splash splosh

click-clack, riff-raff, zig-zag, chit-chat, mish-mash, pitter-patter

King Kong, hip-hop, flip-flop, TikTok, ping pong, ding dong

Go on - swap the order round and hear just how wrong they sound! Dear English, you are bonkers, but we love you anyway.

Joan Lennon website

Joan Lennon Instagram

OH DEAR, LOOK WHAT I GOT! and a 36-year-old BEAR HUNT. Picture book thoughts by Penny Dolan 1 Dec 2025 2:43 AM (last month)

Greetings for December 2025!
Doing Library Storytimes over the year has led to a fascination with words & illustrations and more in picture books for young children and how they work, both the new and the old favourites. This month I intended to write about ‘OH DEAR, LOOK WHAT I GOT!’, Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury’s 2025 collaboration, but somehow their 1989 picture book hit, ‘WE’RE GOING ON A BEAR HUNT!’ padded in on its big paws too.

BEAR HUNT is Rosen’s retelling of a popular summer campfire group chant, sometimes called ‘Lion Hunt’. The structure is simple: one main voice leads with the story line, then all the listeners join in, chanting that ‘I’m not scared’ refrain, then copying the sound effects and actions at each stage of the troublesome journey. Within this story framework, the group leader could improvise new locations and actions and build up the tension towards the sudden, Big Scary moment, which suddenly turned the tale into the race of the return journey, complete with a ‘reverse memory test’ of all the places, actions and sound effects.

BEAR HUNT was a kind of game, a playing-about with a fictional quest - ‘We’re going to catch a big one’ – where the listeners faced the sensation of imminent peril, even as the incantation reassured young campers that they would not be facing danger alone. No wonder BEAR HUNT was a popular a metaphor with summer camp leaders!

However, when WE’RE GOING ON A BEAR HUNT! became a book, that once-improvised journey was fixed down across the spreads. It gained the status of print, along with most adults & children’s preference for stories ‘read in the right way’. So what, apart from the strong format, gave that picture book its presence and power? With their new collaboration ‘OH DEAR, LOOK WHAT I GOT!’ half in mind, I opened my copy of the once-familiar picture book and examined what was going on ‘in the pictures’.

What had Helen Oxenbury’s illustrations brought to Rosen’s BEAR HUNT retelling?

WHERE was the story? First of all, Oxenbury’s loose, sketchy style of illustration and use of double-page spreads adds a sense of lightness and airiness to the setting, giving the reader an idyllic version of an English rural landscape. Clearly, bears would be extremely unlikely in such a familiar place: a first clue that this will be an imaginary tale. Yet, as the family set off on their quest, she shows roof-tops down in the valley behind them; they are, in the story, leaving home behind.

WHO was in the story? This telling also has the sense of a group. Oxenbury draws a realistic, ordinary family of four children, their father and a dog. (I also welcome the fact that she drew a human family, rather than a set of anthropomorphic characters but some aspects of publishing were much simpler then.) Now, while the father is clearly there to look after the children, Oxenbury does not show him as the one in command: the siblings often help him, each other and even the dog, who is not the bravest of creatures.

Meanwhile, the huge surprised bear, in his monotone brown fur in his monotone brown cave, seems lured, by the curiosity that Oxenbury shows in his eyes, out into the brightness of the real world. Alas, after padding after his visitors, the poor bear finds himself shut out – and plods back to his refuge. (A follow-up title did take on the bear’s story, but I am not sure how warmly it was loved. Do you?)

HOW was the imaginary part of the story managed? As each ‘problem’ presented itself - ‘Oh no! We’ve got to go through it!’ – Oxenbury used ordinary, everyday black-and-white but then, as if the moment is brightened by the imagination, she switches to beautiful full-colour spreads while they solve each problem, Even so, she maintains the sense of realism, of being in this world: for example, as the family cross the river, they hold their shoes in hands, the older girl bunches up her skirt, and the boy grasps the collar of the swimming dog, all while the particular sound effect - ‘Splash splosh!’ - presents itself three times in a simple ‘capitalised box’, as happens almost all the way through.

THE PACE of the story? When at last we get to the big brown cave, where the huge bear appears – One shiny wet nose! Two big furry ears! Two big googly eyes! – he seems rather cross about unwelcome visitors ands. Oxenbury now has to cope with a big problem. So far all has been slow, steady adventure, using a complete spread per scene. When you are using your voice to tell a story, speeding up is easy and quick. How, though to manage it visually, so the story won’t drag and, furthermore, will fit within the page count? Delightfully, Oxenbury uses six quickly-glanced, quickly-read sequential panels placed horizontally across one spread, the narrow images speeding us towards home – but then? Will all be safe? Is this the end?

No! Oxenbury’s next page switches to four brown-toned panels, echoing the colour of the cave and hinting at vertical bars. The family all look outwards from within the house. Look what trouble the outside and the brightness of the imagination got us into!

The bear is following, is approaching. Oh no! We forgot to shut the door! Back downstairs. And then, with the danger locked firmly outside, the family rush up to the bedroom. They dive under the safety of the vast, feminine pale-pink bedcover, eyes still wide with fear but safe, safe, safe. Although, with a lovely twist, despite all his adventures, Oxenbury's little baby lies there, only half-under that cover, smiling and playing with his own rather recognisable toy bear. What was all the fuss about? Finally, on the last earth-brown spread, she shows us the bear plodding alone, across the lonely, empty shore, to his cold cave. Poor bear! Be careful about what you wake, both beings and feelings! Oxenbury, that brilliant artist, without any of the modern showiness, glitter, sparkle or visual fuss, made that WE'RE GOING ON A BEAR HUNT! story into a treasure of a book.

Unfortunately, though I hate to say it, even with all those clever speeding spreads, Bear Hunt can sometimes be a little too long for reading out to a group of the youngest children. Storytime is not a one or two on the lap situation!

So when - HOORAY! - in late October, I spotted Rosen and Oxenbury's new collaboration in hardback in a bookshop - and at a reasonable £12.99 - I bought myself a copy. I’ve used it for a couple of ‘Under-Fives Storytime’ at my local library and will again.

What did I find? ‘OH DEAR, LOOK WHAT I GOT!’ is a much quieter, smaller storyline than Bear Hunt. The book itself is far simpler but, in its way, just as useful for story sessions. For a start, only one voice ‘speaks’, not a family group, which makes the plot simpler and the story thread easier for younger listeners. However, although Oxenbury‘s characters are realistically drawn, they all have a slight story-book quality to them, and she allows each person to stand out against the calming white space on the pages. The clarity of this book’s design and layout feels very pleasing for younger and older eyes.

The child – the main narrator/character - is not swiftly relatable or cute. Oxenbury has added a touch of the fairytale, a hint of the not-quite-now, to his androgynous appearance. He has a slightly timeless look to his face, wears an fitted red jacket, dark leggings, and a black peaked hat. Moreover, his slight frame, his manner and his curiosity suggest a child who is a thinker, a logician, a quiet solver of problems.

What story does Rosen bring to us? Told very simply, the child goes to the shops to get one particular item though, helpfully for the tale, no money or card-use is involved. Unfortunately, though each shop is clearly the correct destination – a greengrocer has a shelf of vegetables, a baker stands behind shelves of cakes, and so on - each shopkeeper completely misunderstands. Instead, the child is given a badly-concealed object, partly wrapped up in brown wrapping paper.

When the child gets home – shown as an implied space on an otherwise empty page - they discover their badly-wrapped parcel is a rhyming alternative for what they wanted. We, reading this book, are suddenly in a ‘silly rhymes’ word game. ‘I went to the shops to get me a carrot. Oh dear, they gave me a parrot!’ the narrator declares. “Do I want that? No I do not!” Did I catch a hint of Dr Seuss’s phraseology there? Checking Helen Oxenbury’s website after writing, the answer was yes!

On the story progresses, through about four more ‘beats’, until the wriggly pup, that final mistake, sets off an uproar. This, if you study the images closely, follows the traditional format of ‘So A did this, which made B do this, which made C do this, etc.’ I wonder if you recall that ‘old woman needing to get her pig over the stile’ folk tale? But fortunately, there is a loud knock at the door. The shopkeepers have arrived, all is righted - seen through the pictures not in the words -and a happy party ensues. The end.

OH DEAR, LOOK WHAT I GOT! needed a read or three to find the rhythm of the text, to consider the limited vocabulary, and watch for where the word-count offered extra opportunities for repeating phrases or joining in with animal noises, which always goes down well.

Besides, Oxenbury’s characters all have a charming slightly old-fashioned look about them, too, and an attractive, amusing manner which fits well with the ridiculous errors, leaving the re-jacketed narrator as the only one with any sense. I enjoyed, too, the way her endpapers visually extended the gentle plot, and noticed that the ‘brown paper’ that wrapped the parcels cleverly reappears on the hardback covers.

‘Do I want that? No, I do not!’ the adults and children started to echo as I read out the pages, However, as far as OH DEAR, LOOK WHAT I GOT! goes, I decided I did want that!

In it goes, into my own secret book stock at home, even though my usual choices are titles from the library book boxes. Though Rosen and Oxenbury’s new title is far simpler than WE’RE GOING ON A BEAR HUNT it is, in its own way, very useful and enjoyable. Reading the book aloud to the (big and) little ones on the library carpet felt very much like fun.

Speaking of which, I hope all your winter festivities will be fun, too. Have a fine December!

Penny Dolan

.

As tired as a very tired person who can't find a metaphor by Sheena Wilkinson 28 Nov 2025 9:00 PM (last month)

Readers, I am as tired as a very tired person. A person too tired to find an actual image even though I am, in fact, a writer.

I FEEL as though, in the last five days, I have:

Organised and hosted a book launch attended by many people, involving a great deal of planning and wine-buying and speech-writing, and also involving leaving my dress behind and only realising it when we were already on the motorway;

the dress was worth going back for

Delivered a workshop on poetry writing at my local primary school;

the kids were worth it too and no, we weren't focusing on spelling

Engaged in online essay one-to-ones with Scottish sixth year students, as part of my work with the Royal Literary Fund's Bridge project;

Facilitated an in-person but not at all local personal writing workshop with trauma-experienced adults as part of my work with the RLF's Writing for Life project;

Been interviewed for an online literary 'salon' mostly with pre-published writers;
this was fun!

Visited a Belfast independent bookshop to sign copies of Miss McVey Takes Charge, which they are stocking;

Thank you NO ALIBIS!

Attended an Arts Council workshop on dealing with disappointment and rejection, and been very amused when a writer I know, who's at the pre-published, querying stage, said, 'What are you doing here? What can you know about rejection?' (Er, how long have you got?)
some writers I know were cynical about this, but it was very helpful

Looked forward all week to getting to my desk for the first time today, Friday (apart from admin) to work on my novel, only to realise my ABBA post is due...

And readers, the reason I FEEL as though I have done all those things in the last five days is because I have. I know my life is no busier than anyone else's, and it's certainly easier and jollier than when I was a full-time teacher, but I seem to have a lot of different hats to wear these days!

I have left out all the life stuff: choir practice; dog-walking; gym; shopping; visiting close friend in hospice; getting stuck in a two-hour traffic jam (luckily NOT while going back to pick up the forgotten dress); getting up at 6 the day after the launch to drive the book's dedicatee to the airport -- she came to stay for the launch, which was great fun -- and no, I haven't had time to change the spare bed, so if you are coming to visit me, please know that you are welcome, but give me a few days.

And now, for the rest of today, apart from dog walking and signing some books and putting them in the post for readers who wanted to buy directly from me, I intend to go to 1925 and stay there. My characters are having an equally varied time, and it's up to me to make sense of it all for them...

The writing life. It's certainly varied.

Ability, Motive, Opportunity and Goblins, by Claire Fayers 26 Nov 2025 10:00 PM (last month)

Hi all,

I'm going to be taking a bit of a break from the blog after Christmas so this will be my last post for a little while. I do intend to start up again once I've got some new ideas together.

Recently, I've been talking to libraries again, taking part in an online librarians conference and then visiting libraries to run school sessions.

I love visiting schools, but I am really enjoying having classes come into the libraries. The scheme is paid for by the Welsh Books Council who always pay promptly. As the classes come in, the sessions generally start a little later in the morning so there's no leaving home at the crack of dawn. And it's great fun. Maybe not quite so much fun for anyone else in the library at the time (if you were trying to work this morning when a rowdy group was creating goblins, I apologise!)

Part of my talk at the library conference centred around getting children to read, which got me thinking about why we want kids to read, and what's stopping them. In the grand tradition of murder mysteries, I think it comes down to ability, motive and opportunity. If kids struggle to decode every sentence, the whole thing becomes a hard slog, meaning they have little motive to read. And if they don't have access to books, they can't read.

Schools do a lot to address ability. Libraries are primarily about opportunity - making books available. We, as authors, can have a big impact on motive, engaging with young readers, making reading fun.

Bringing all three together feels very special. Children who've never been to a public library get to see the place for the first time whilst also meeting an author who can talk enthusiastically about the library, read, play games and generally have fun.

My sessions are based on Welsh goblins, and the highlight is when I pass a marker pen around and the children take turns at designing a goblin to live in the library. I give them all a design-your-own-goblin postcard to take away and the class goblin stays in the library to encourage them to come back and see it some other time.

The fact that the goblins are very badly drawn just adds to the fun.

Have a great Christmas all!

Publication or pleasure? Or both? 24 Nov 2025 10:00 PM (2 months ago)

A recent BBC interview with John Grisham caught my attention. The first half anyway; the second is more Grisham being quizzed about why he writes what he writes. But that first half, where he discusses shrinking readership and the prevalence of 'screen time' is something I think about a lot, especially when I'm sitting in a train and look up from my book to find myself surrounded by faces bent over mobiles. When I left the UK 35 years ago, nearly all those faces in trains were bent over books or newspapers and magazines.

Reading.

(Yes, I know some of those people may be reading an article, but I see an awful lot of scrolling through TikTok videos.)

Anyway, the point of all this is that I'm now beginning to think fiction writing may be going the way of poetry. Perhaps not as fast, but certainly heading there. Becoming a niche pastime. And it makes me wonder why I write and what I hope to get out of it. When I started, it was dreams of being published. But that seems to be a horizon receding by the month. Not just for me, but for many, many others.

So is writing to be just a source of pleasure? With any prospect of publication a welcome, but really rather an unexpected bonus?

I'm still thinking about this.

Still puzzling it out.

And wondering where I'm heading.

Anyway, here's the Grisham interview. (You have to cut and paste the URL into your browser to play it.) He seems like a nice man. And I like his books, too.

https://www.bbc.com/reel/video/p0mjb83d/john-grisham-on-why-he-still-writes-as-trends-shift

Constant noise and blinding lights - by Lu Hersey 18 Nov 2025 4:00 PM (2 months ago)

Weirdly, it's a strangely enjoyable experience. It's just what a West Country Carnival night is like. If you've never been to one, I'd recommend making the effort, at least once in your life.

November is generally a bleak month, filled with rain and cold weather - and even though it's likely you'll have to endure this standing out on the street for hours, the onslaught of light and sound should more than compensate. Besides, the folklore calendar has gained popularity over the last few years, and Carnival deserves to be up there. It may be loud and brash, but it has roots going back over 400 years.

The tradition started in the Somerset town of Bridgwater. The population of the town was staunchly protestant back in 1605 when a group of catholic conspirators plotted to blow up the houses of parliament - the failed attempt which has been celebrated as Guy Fawkes night ever since.

But although Guy Fawkes was a conspirator, the main instigator of the gunpowder plot was a man called Robert Parsons, a Jesuit priest from Nether Stowey - which is a village very close to Bridgwater.

Each year following the uncovering of the plot, the town folk of Bridgwater celebrated Robert Parsons' demise on 5 November by lighting a huge bonfire, built from a wooden boat filled with 100 tar barrels and anything else people found that would burn. Local groups (known as gangs) added effigies (or guys) to the fire, and processions started up as the gangs paraded their guys along the route.

The processions became more elaborate over the years, adding music and costumes, until eventually the carnival procession became the main focus of the event (especially after over-enthusiastic locals had to be stopped from burning any boat they could pinch from the harbour). The people who dress up and take part in the event are known as Masqueraders or Features.

The Carnival Circuits now feature a parade of up to 50 illuminated carts (the local name for floats), mostly pulled by tractors or lorries, and often needing massive generators to power the fantastic light displays. Carts can cost over £40,000 to build, and local clubs spend thousands of man hours creating them over the course of the year. The aim of the carnival (one of the biggest of its kind in the world) is to raise money for local charities, but it's also a chance for everyone to enjoy a fantastic spectacle at a very dull point in the year.

Some themed floats are based on Children's novels (classics like Alice in Wonderland or Pinocchio rather than anything contemporary) - but if you're a film maker, you stand a far better chance of seeing a tribute to your work. Although it's unpredictable. This year I expected to see a lot of variations on Wicked and possibly a few K-Pop Demon Hunters, but there was only one Wicked themed cart - instead there were several Western movie style bar fight themes, a few ghost trains, the Titanic, and a brilliant Day of the Dead cart. The music blaring from each cart reflects the theme, which makes for a mix no DJ would ever consider - and tbh, once a year is probably enough.

Although the Carnival travels to a number of other West country towns over a period of a couple of weeks, it's only in Bridgwater itself that they keep the tradition of squibbing. A squib is a firework held up on a long wooden handle (called a cosh) by a squibber, and a hundred squibbers stand in line in Bridgwater town centre, making a brilliant, if slightly scary display. (link)

For a quieter, but possibly more disorganised night, come to see it in on the last night of the circuit, in Glastonbury. Just ignore the timings on the website here, as in Glastonbury time, a 6.45pm start can mean 8pm if you're lucky. And don't rely on buses as they all stop an hour before the procession starts, whatever the timetable tells you.

Still worth it though. The themed carts vary enormously, so you'll never see exactly the same float two years running, and yet somehow the atmosphere is timeless. And although there's no chance your work will ever be featured on a cart, on the plus side, Carnival makes a brilliant setting for any fictional murder and mayhem you might want to write later...

Anyway, where else can you see ghost chickens?

Lu Hersey