Seasons Greetings from the Awfully Big Bloggers!

What are you doing reading a blog? Shouldn't you be doing your last-minute shopping? Haven't you got a turkey (or acceptable vegetarian alternative) to collect from the shop? 

We're sure you must have, and we don't want to distract you. Besides which, we've got our own last-minute preparations to be getting on with. So we're going to take a break.

We'll be here again on Wednesday 1st January 2014, when Penny Dolan will welcome you back for another year of Awfully Big Blogposts on all manner of things intimately or tangentially related to the world of children's fiction. In the meantime, we hope that on Christmas morning your stockings are bulging with good things to read.

And till January, from all of us here at An Awfully Big Blog Adventure, we'd like to wish you all a very, very merry Christmas and, ahem, An ABBA New Year.

Unseasonal Greetings - Cathy Butler

I remember being rather disappointed as a child in the 1970s when I was told that the Christmas Specials of many of my favourite shows were actually filmed at the height of summer. It made sense, though. That forced jollity, the frantic over-tinselling, could be explained only by the peculiar discomfort attendant on singing about snow and reindeer in the middle of July, wearing a thick polo-neck jersey.

Most of the people involved in those shows are now either dead or in jail (it’s a strange life, being a ’70s child); but amongst writers at least the unseasonal arts have flourished much longer. Keats noted in an age before fridge-freezers that Fancy "will bring, in spite of frost,/ Beauties that the earth hath lost”; and Susan Cooper has described writing the snowy chapters of The Dark is Rising – a Christmas staple in all sensible households – in the middle of a Caribbean summer.

A few months ago I had my own taste of this experience. In April I was asked to provide a story for the December edition of the Bloomsbury website 247 Tales. The idea is that every month an author writes a story of 247 words or fewer, and young writers then offer their own stories on the same theme. I duly wrote a creepy Christmas story while the daffodils swayed outside my window; then I snuggled down and waited for winter. Unfortunately, as you will have seen if you clicked on the link, the 247 Tales site is undergoing technical problems. It seems my story will not appear there after all.

What shall we do with the poor orphan story? Can the doors of ABBA be opened to give it shelter at this season of goodwill, and bring it shivering out of the cold? They can, you say? Why, God bless you!

Here then is my Christmas squib. Enjoy it if you're able - but remember, April is the cruellest month…

Crackerjack

Jack lay coffined in a cardboard tube. He was trussed tightly, arms bound above his head. The half-darkness revealed outsized objects filling the cramped space: a huge plastic whistle; a bale of crêpe paper; a broadsheet riddle. His mouth was gagged with Miss Jago’s gingerbread.

The gingerbread had been bait, of course. Old Miss Jago might seem friendly, but from the moment they’d met, Jack had guessed she was a witch. He’d known that even before she caught him pulling the tail of her mangy cat.  She’d told his parents – so unfair!

Christmas dinner was his parents’ peace offering. They’d sent Jack with a polite invitation and Miss Jago had come, bearing fresh-baked gingerbread and homemade Christmas crackers. That gingerbread had smelt delicious. Coming across it in the kitchen before dinner, how could Jack not try a slice?

Immediately he’d felt a sickening blackness – a violent blurring – and then he’d woken here, trapped in this cardboard prison. Nearby, wine glasses chinked. He could smell turkey.

“Where’s Jack?” he heard Dad ask, very loud, very close. “I’m starving.”

“He won’t have gone far,” said Miss Jago. “Why not pull a cracker while we’re waiting?”

“Oh yes, let’s!” said Mum.

Jack’s world lurched as a giant fist seized him by the arms. Another crushed his feet. In mute agony he was lifted into the air and stretched out tight.

“Go on!” cried Miss Jago merrily. “Don’t be shy!”

Laughing, Jack’s parents pulled their Christmas cracker. One – two – three – snap!

Beginnings, endings and Christmas - Linda Strachan

 
Yesterday I got my first Christmas card.
Despite the fact that December has only just arrived, already we are inundated with Christmas images, (apologies for adding yet another) and Christmas sales promotions.


I know some people are organised and are already preparing for Christmas but it all seems a bit too soon for me- I am not quite ready to throw myself into festive preparations, quite yet.  I am still in writing mode



I went on my last school visit of 2011 yesterday, and it was wonderful.

Hamish McHaggis and his Hoggle

The P1 and P2 classes at St Ninian's RC Primary in  Livingston had done a huge amount of work based around my Hamish McHaggis books. 

The Hamish McHaggis Whirry Bang

Including making their own Hoggle (Hamish's home) and versions of  his Whirry Bang (car)




 And on my last school visit of the year I was able to tell them about a new beginning, the latest Hamish book which is coming out next spring  
Hamish McHaggis and the Great Glasgow Treasure Hunt  
I also showed them one of the beautiful drawings Sally J Collins  has done for the new book.

This is always an exciting time, when I see my words and her pictures coming together.


Writing  a picture book involves, for me, a very visual approach. I think visually when I am writing, seeing it in my mind's eye and that is not so different whether it is picture books or novels.

But the difference with a picture book is that someone will be drawing the pictures on paper instead of the reader creating them in their mind.  So I think about what the pictures might look like, and I read the story out loud so that I can remove any extra text that is unnecessary and evident from the images on the page but also so as the book reads easily for the parents or children who will be reading it aloud.

Working with Sally on the Hamish books, as I have done now for several years, it is easy to imagine what the images will look like but other times when I have worked on picture books the end result is so different to the pictures I had in my head that it has often taken a while to adjust.  Thankfully almost always the result is excellent, just different!

As often happens I have also been working on something else, at the same time.
At the moment I am completing the first draft of my new YA novel and it couldn't be more different.
Spider and Dead Boy Talking are both gritty hard hitting stories, with real life themes including knife crime, car theft and bad decisions often leading to terrible consequences for my characters, so they are about as far from a cuddly haggis as you could imagine.
The new book Don't Judge Me is in a similar vein.  

But perhaps that makes it easier to move from one to the other as I am writing. It certainly adds variety and means that, as happened earlier this week, I can be speaking to 14 or 15 year olds and children at a nursery - all on the same day.  It certainly keeps me on my toes!

So as the frosty nights arrive and the days are ever shorter I am not quite ready to discard 2011 yet.  There are in fact another 28 days to go and most of them are before Christmas!

Are you finishing, starting or preparing for Christmas? 


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Linda Strachan is the  author of the Hamish McHaggis series, YA novels Spider and Dead Boy Talking and writing handbook Writing for Children
Website wwwlindastrachan.co.uk
Blog Bookwords

A Tiny Respite - Joan lennon

I know you're busy.  I expect you're stressed.  So here's a tiny gift to you.  Take a few moments to forget the faff and just look.  And breathe.  (Always a good idea but sometimes neglected at this time of year.)

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


Thank you, Joan, for such wonderfully wintry pictures to close the Awfully Big Blog Adventure posts for 2014.

We'll be taking a short break but, meanwhile, huge thanks to the writers and illustrators who've shared their thoughts, ideas and experiences on ABBA - and additional thanks to all of you who read, comment and share our pages throughout the year.

Have a happy holiday, whether reading, writing, drawing, dreaming or more!

The Awfully Big Blog Adventure will be back on the first of January, 2015.

Seasons Greetings from the ABBA Team!

ALMOST AT SEA: Penny Dolan

My local writer’s group holds a recitation evening at this time of year, when people seem drawn to old stories and songs and poems. The poem below, although not traditionally wintry, is my own favourite for this season. 

Almost a short story, the poem was written by Robert Louis Stevenson, who was the son of a lighthouse engineer, and appeared in 1888 after the publication of his Treasure Island.  Although the poem seems to be about danger at sea, the emotional conflict and longing seem to me a deeper part of the celebration itself, whether on land or sea. Please, if you have a moment, do read through to the end.

 Christmas at Sea

The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;
The wind was a nor'wester, blowing squally off the sea;
And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.

They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;
But 'twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
And we gave her the maintops'l, and stood by to go about.

All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;
All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;
All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.

We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide race roared;
But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:
So's we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,
And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.

The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
The good red fires were burning bright in every 'long-shore home;
The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.

The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
For it's just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
This day of our adversity was blessèd Christmas morn,
And the house above the coastguard's was the house where I was born.

O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,
My mother's silver spectacles, my father's silver hair;
And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
Go dancing round the china plates that stand upon the shelves.

And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;
And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessèd Christmas Day.

They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
'All hands to loose top gallant sails,' I heard the captain call.
'By the Lord, she'll never stand it,' our first mate, Jackson, cried.
… 'It's the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson,' he replied.

She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood.
As the winter's day was ending, in the entry of the night,
We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.

And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,
As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.

 * * * * *

The Awfully Big Blog posts are mostly about fiction, but there are poetry readers and writers too. 

What’s the title - and author - of your favourite poem at this time of year?

Penny Dolan

(The painting is by Aivasovsky Ivan Constantinovitch. 1899.)

Favourite Children’s Books of 2014 (Just In Time For Christmas!) – by Emma Barnes

A while ago I compiled a list of my favourite Christmas-themed books.  This year I've been inspired by the newspapers which are full of “Favourite Books of the Year” . Here are some children’s books, published in 2014, that I have really enjoyed, some of them by ABBA bloggers. If, like me, you like to buy your Christmas gifts last minute, maybe one of these will fit the bill.

They are all more-or-less for middle grade or a little older and I've listed them roughly in age of readership.

The Pearl Quest by Gill Vickery

The final book in Vickery’s delightful Dragonchild series is just as compelling as the first. These books concern Tia, who has been raised by dragons, but is now on a quest to recover the jewels that protect the kingdom. It’s perfect for children drawn to epic fantasy, but pitched at a rather easier reading level than most fantasy, making it a great stepping stone to longer books like the Hobbit, the C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia or Le Guin’s Earthsea.

Stinkbomb & Ketchup-Face and the Badness of Badgers by John Dougherty


Earlier this year, John and I were both speaking at the launch of the Fantastic Books Awards in Lancashire, and I had the pleasure of listening to John read an extract from this wonderfully silly, funny book (I also heard him sing a song about having to cross your legs in class while waiting for the bell to go - that's another story). This book has made a big splash and is perfect for fans of the Mr Gum books.       (John has also written a list of favourite fictional badgers - now, there's something we've all been waiting for...)

Deep Amber – by CJ Busby

CJ Busby, like me, is a fan of the late, great fantasy author Diana Wynne Jones, and this funny, clever book is in the same tradition, blending two storylines, one concerning siblings Simon and Cat from our world, the other a fairytale world where Dora and Jem set out on a quest together. It culminates in a wonderfully funny and exciting episode in an old folks’ home.




Jane, the Fox and Me by Fanny Britt and Isabelle Arsenault


Graphic novels are one part of the book world which is booming – it’s all rather new to me, though, so I decided it was time to explore a little.  I really enjoyed this story in which Helene is being bullied by former friends at school in the most insiduous way - by making her feel bad about herself, as well as isolating her - and takes comfort from literature in the surprising form of Jane Eyre, meets a fox, and finally finds a new friend.



Jet Black Heart by Teresa Flavin

I’ll ‘fess up and say at once that Teresa is a friend of mine, and a fellow Yorkshire author too. I especially like that this story’s inspired by the coast around Whitby – a Yorkshire seaside town I also love – and its trade in jet jewellery. It’s part of the Barrington Stoke range of books, which are carefully designed for children and teenagers whose “reading” age may be lower than their actual age, but with no compromise on content or a first class story.

 
Daughters of Time - editor Mary Hoffman


This book is a collection of stories from writers over on The History Girls blog – and it’s a wonderful variety of different styles and voices, each story about a significant woman from British history from Aethelfled to Mary Wollstonecraft, Amy Johnson to Mary Anning. Perfect for teenagers and adults too – and in the tradition of the best historical fiction by writers such as Rosemary Sutcliffe and Barbara Willard.  I loved these stories, and wished that many of them could have been full length novels.



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Emma's series for 8+ Wild Thing about the naughtiest little sister ever (and her bottom-biting ways) is published by Scholastic. 
"Hilarious and heart-warming" The Scotsman

 Wolfie is published by Strident.  It is a story of wolves, magic and snowy woods...
"A real cracker of a book" Armadillo 
"Funny, clever and satisfying...thoroughly recommended" Books for Keeps


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

The Greatest Story Ever Told by Tess Berry-Hart

“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” - Phillip Pullman

“And what do you do?” asks the polite professional lawyer in the group of polite professional people at my polite professional neighbour’s Christmas party.

“Me?  Oh, I'm a writer,” I answer, equally politely.

“Oh, really?”  A wave of heads turn in my direction, polite smiles become suddenly more interested.  “What kind of writing?  Journalism?  Novels?”

“Well, I write stories for children and young adults,” I begin confidently, but oops, I'm losing them already.  Smiles have taken on a glazed quality and I'm starting to be relegated to the category in their minds that houses lolloping bunnies, plucky hobbits and talking lions.  I follow up quickly with a couple of my adult plays and novels but I can see in their eyes that my status has already been set.  Children’s stories! – how quaint.

“But we all tell stories, don’t we,” I begin jovially, in what my husband would term my instructively-speaking-to-a-three-year-old tone.  “Our reality, our economy, our social structures are all governed by stories, aren’t they?”

Deep nods and a strained kind of silence greet this; though a couple of people look a little as if they’re trying to work out if I'm insulting them in some covert fashion.

“And whether you subscribe to the idea that there’s only seven stories in the world or not, it’s amazing how these stories get replayed over and over in media and advertising isn't it?  The small company who fights back from the edge of extinction.  The underdog who wins through on the X Factor.”

Oh dear, the mention of X Factor – the professional version of Godwin’s Law after which any proponent can lose her credibility.  And I haven’t even watched it in years!

A chorus of agreement, though with no discernible words, follows this, and mercifully our hostess comes to our rescue with a tray of mince pies.  People break up into twos and turn to each other with noticeable relief.  “Have you heard about X?”

I take refuge in a mince pie, and think.  Why should we be afraid of confronting our stories?  We adults absorb stories as voraciously as if we were children.  The middle-aged lawyer creates a story to the judge and jury about why they should believe his client’s version of events.  The saleswoman on my left creates stories that we will look better, feel happier and be more successful if we buy her product.  And don’t even get me started on the advertising director opposite.

Stories are all around us, shaping our world and our outlook – and let’s face it, stories are not all capitalist cynicism.  Good stories are centuries old, and they’re around for a reason.  We NEED the story that we can succeed in whatever we do against insurmountable odds.  We NEED the story that the bad guys will get punished and the good guys triumph.

Stories are acutely important for learning.  They are the models by which children see the world and learn from it.  Telling my son a story to deliver a message is ten times more effective that merely telling him the message.  When I see him playing, I can see that games are stories in action.  He’s already channelling the “rescuing hero” story, the “quest” story and the “overcoming the monster” stories all by himself.

Where does the power of story come from?  As psychologists Melanie C Green and Timothy C. Brock note in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, the mechanism of “transport” – using detail and emotional affect to involve the reader – is essential for a narrative.  Highly transported readers find fewer false notes in a story than less transported readers, they evaluate protagonists favourably and show many other similar story-consistent beliefs.  Interestingly, corresponding beliefs tend to be generally unaffected whether the reader knows a story is fact or fiction.  I can know that a cream will not make me look younger, but I’ll buy it anyway.

And we’re at a Christmas party after all.  Christmas is a great story.  Though I'm an avowed atheist, I love Christmas!  The human story of birth in humble adversity; the strong baddie that searches to kill the saviour of mankind, the call to adventure, the exiled and returning hero, the love that lays itself down for another; the elements are all there.  And beyond the advent of Christianity, I feel the pagan solstice of Yule as instinctively as one born in the Northern Hemisphere can; the affirmation of life in the midst of snow, the fire lit against the cold and darkness, the shadows on the wall of the cave that mystics interpret, making sense of the sun and the stars, winter and summer, life and death.

Along with other wonderful stories passed down from times immemorial –The Flood, the Apocalypse, the Exodus – the story means something to us because in a sense (whether you are a believer or not) stories ARE real.  Stories hold a deep psychological purpose, about our relationship to the universe and to Time. Stories give us hope, they give us meaning.  In my book, the greatest story ever told is that of life; that we exist, and we do.

Around me the conversation has moved on, and now they’re talking about the recovery. (Belief in the market’s one of the best stories around at the moment!)  I don’t have much to add to this so I gather my things together and start to slide unobtrusively towards the exit, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s the polite lawyer.

“I thought it was interesting,” he says breathlessly, “what you said about stories back there. It really made me think.”

My heart warms to him.  “Why thank you,” I say.

“I've got to get my niece a Christmas present, and your book sounds ideal.  Would I be able to get a signed copy?”

TWELVE DECEMBER DREAMS FOR YOU by Penny Dolan

 

Grunts, groans, and sits down with a sigh. Yes, I’m just back from the “Christmas Market” in my town. How much boozy chocolate, mulled wine variants and worryingly early mince pies does a nation need? As I walked back, I thought about things that might be useful for you in the run up to the festivities.

So, here’s wishing you:

 

1. A cunning clock that shifts time about so you can do the writing you need to do.

 

 

2. A Light to help you see a clear path through the wintry fogs, mists and gloom of  Plots Gone Bad.

 

3. A pair of swift Writing Skis, and the skill to use them, so you can speed onwards whenever there’s a clear patch ahead.

  

4. Exceptionally Magic Ears so you can still hear the words of your Work In Progress way above all the nagging seasonal music and unwanted requests.

 

5. An Optional Food Fairy or three. Plus a happy flock of Clearaway Elves. For more than one day. 'Nuff said.

 

6. A Santa Claus who will stop faffing about on cakes, cards and comfy chairs in grottos and  actually bring all those presents on Christmas Eve. Like he’s supposed to, you know!

  

7. A Cheery Facemask so you can smile at Party Questions like. “When are you going to write a book for adults?” or “We’ve just bought Russell Brand’s Pied Piper. Do you ever have ideas like that?”

 

8. A Book (or more) so admirable that it will thrill you, please you, bring you knowledge and understanding - without making you weep in desperation at your own feeble talent. Plus bookshelves to fill to your hearts’ content.

9. A Very Large Spoonful of Good Health for you and for yours.  (This one is so important that I’m not even joking.)

 

10. A Deck of True Patience Cards so you don’t waste too much of your your writing time waiting for your editor/agent/publisher/whatever to call.

11. And a Collection of Good Writing Friends, who will let you grumble and witter on like this . . . and know it’s only half the story. (Thanks! You know who you are!)

12.  Plus whatever else YOU need to wish for, of course.

Have a happy and peaceful December, everyone!

Manuscripts - Old and New... Savita Kalhan

Unlike the Christmases of previous years, I found myself writing most of the days of the holiday this year. That hadn’t been the plan. I was going to take a week off, kick back and enjoy the festivities to the full.

In mid-December I finished a manuscript, which I had long struggled with. Finally satisfied with the ending, I bit the bullet and sent it out to a few a readers, and then promptly forgot about it for a while, or at least tried to! To distract myself, I decided to take a trip down memory lane, and at the same time restore order to my study, by pulling out some older manuscripts, some of which had not seen the light of day for a very, very long time.

Inevitably, the process of restoring order to the chaos of my working environment was hi-jacked as I dusted off the manuscripts and gave them an airing. I decided to reread them. Then I rewrote one of the manuscripts for a slightly younger audience, and, happily, the story, which hadn’t been working for the 14 + readers, began to work much better.

Another manuscript, written for adults a few years ago and then stuck in a drawer and forgotten about, was refined and polished and sent out to some readers. The third manuscript, dragged out of the longest hibernation was the first in an epic fantasy trilogy, (and by epic I mean humungously epic – the first book should be divided in two at the very least) – was so much fun I almost forgot it was Christmas!

In some ways it ways it was a very indulgent way to spend Christmas; it was a holiday within a holiday. I don’t usually have any time to make forays into the past in that way. The stories in the drawer usually remain in the drawer. They cover several genres and age groups. They don’t promote my current writing in any way. My brandis: teen/young adult contemporary fiction, and, unless you are an established writer, I’ve discovered that it is important to remain within that brand – particularly where publishers are concerned. So I’m not sure I will do anything with those manuscripts in the end. Time will tell.

Christmas has come and gone, the tree has lost its lustre, and New Year’s Eve has come and gone too. I’ve realised I haven’t made any New Year’s resolutions. I usually make several, most of which get broken within days. I’ve now decided that making resolutions is not such a great thing for me. It’s way too much pressure, unless, of course, the resolutions are things like: to go out more, socialise more, read more, listen to music more, walk more, and maybe write more...

Happy New Year!


 http://www.savitakalhan.com/
Twitter @savitakalhan