This Is Why We Do It - Liz Kessler

What is it that defines us? 

Have you noticed how often it’s about our jobs? But how does it really work? As writers, is it about the number of books we've written, the number of people who've read them, the amount of money we've made from them? What exactly is the thing that means we can confidently claim the title of 'writer' as part of what gives us our place in the world?

Before I was published, my day job was as a teacher, although writing was my passion and the thing I spent most of my hours doing. But I found it hard to say to people that I was a writer, because it wasn't what I did as an actual, paid job. 

My best friend recently passed a test which means she is now trained to work with the local Coast Watch station – an organisation which exists to keep an eye on people out at sea, and which in all of its years of existence has saved many lives. Loads of people congratulated her when she passed this test, but she was embarrassed by the congratulations – because this is ‘only’ a voluntary role and not a 'proper' job. 

But why do we find ourselves defining our role in the world and our status by how we earn our money? This can't be right. So I've decided that we should start doing it differently. I believe a better way to think about our role is in terms of the difference we make to other people. 

So…if you work in a shop and you recently helped a customer buy a lovely Christmas present for someone they love – just think, when that present is opened, you contributed to the smile it will bring! If you’re a teacher and you gave a pupil some praise for their work this week – believe me, that praise could stay with them for years. (I know it did for me!) And my friend at the Coast Watch station, think of the difference she could make to the world with just one phone call if a fisherman were to get into trouble along the local coastline. 

These are the ways we should judge our place in the world – not by money or cars or houses. 

So what about us writers? Where do we fit in with this idea? How do we know when we've made a difference to someone's life? Well, how about this as a start? A picture that one of my readers sent me this week. (It's my character Emily Windsnap, in both her human and mermaid forms!)

To think that a child has been so involved in one of my books that they have taken the time to make such a sweet picture, and then wanted to send it to me, is absolutely heart-warming. 

Or this, from a recent message on my facebook page… 

“I lent one of my best friends your book, "The Tail Of Emily Windsnap", for her book report. She hardly ever reads and didn't like to read, and now she's reading your books like crazy! Thanks for helping my friend to like to read!” 

I helped a child to learn to love reading! Wow! 

If you'll forgive me a tiny moment of trumpet-blowing, my latest book, A Year Without Autumn, has just been shortlisted for an award. (The first award I’ve ever, ever EVER been shortlisted for, which is why I can't resist sharing the news!) 

The best part of it is that this is the Blue Peter Book Award, which is judged by children, not adults. Whether I win or not, if only a few of those children enjoy my book the most, I will know that I've had the opportunity to contribute to a few enjoyable hours of their childhood – and what could be better than that? 

Well, actually, I'll tell you what could be better. 

This.  

What’s this? I hear you ask. A pile of books? 

This is, in fact, an example of the generosity and all-round wonderfulness of my fellow writers. 

I’ve recently become involved with a charity that has been building a children’s hospice here in Cornwall. The hospice, Little Harbour, has just opened and has, this month, started taking in its first families. When I visited, I noticed some empty bookshelves. A few messages and a few calls later, and within a week, I had over 200 books - mostly signed specially for the hospice from fellow writers, and a couple of boxes from my publisher and agent, too. 

I took the books to the hospice this week, and saw the bedrooms where they’ll be placed, the family room where they’ll adorn the bookshelves, the cute little nooks and crannies all around this amazing place, where children in the most difficult circumstances that any of us could imagine will be able to sit quietly and get wrapped up in the wonderful world of a book. I have to say, my heart melted on the spot. 

So, yes – of course we want the pay cheques, the advances, the royalties – and yes, we dream about the film deals and the sales and even the book awards. But really, these are only the things that make us feel good on the outside. What matters most is what makes us feel good on the inside. 

And if I can play a part in the short life of a child who comes to stay at this beautiful children’s hospice – if a child spends a few happy hours curled up with one of the huge Little Harbour teddy bears, reading one of my books and losing themselves in its world – well, THAT is why I am proud, honoured and grateful to call myself a writer.

Find out more about Liz here

Find out more about Little Harbour Children's Hospice (including how to make donations) here

Books Do Grow On Trees - Nicola Morgan

The lovely people at Blackwell's Bookshop in Edinburgh invited me to the launch of a fabulous event but I couldn't go because I was in London, hobnobbing with Brian May, Roger Daltrey, Roger Taylor and a load of other stars. (Ouch, the name-dropping! Actually, there were a lot more I could have dropped but I held myself back. Besides, when I told my daughter the other names, her response was, "What sort of a tacky event was this, mother? Please don't tell anyone you were there.") Anyway, although the launch has happened, the event is still going on, and it's SUCH a wonderful cause and idea that I wanted to be able to say something about it here.

So, here's a message from Julie Gamble at Blackwell's:

"The Children's Book Tree at Blackwell's Bookshop in Edinburgh is a scheme that lets customers donate a book to a vulnerable child in the city who is living in care or in difficult circumstances. We are working together with Edinburgh Women's Aid, Edinburgh Young Carers, Barnardo's, many support units run by The City of Edinburgh Council and Edinburgh Foster Care to find out what each child would like. We then attach their requests to tags and hang them from our 'Book Tree'. From 25th Nov until 19th Dec customers can drop into the Children's Dept. at Blackwell's on South Bridge, choose a tag from the tree and buy a book to go with it. We'll then wrap and send the books in time for Christmas.

If you'd like to gift a book but can't make it in person you can get in touch with us on 0131 6228225. If you would like to buy a book on behalf of someone else we can also provide a lovely gift certificate!

Thanks for making Christmas a little brighter for these kids."

Hooray!! Fab idea. I'm going there very very soon. There's the tree, all ready and waiting for wishes to be fulfilled.

Does anyone know of any other schemes like this in your part of the country? Would you like to name them here? Or, if you don't, why not contribute to the Edinburgh one by dialling that number?

If we believe that books are important and enriching and wonderful, we must believe in their utmost importance for vulnerable children who have had such a bad start in life.

Oh, and as an extra treat, here's a pic of Julie, thinly disguised as an elf, standing with Sarah Brown, whom you might recognise. 

REACHING GREAT HEIGHTS for ROOM TO READ – Dianne Hofmeyr

There are some incredible athletes amongst our ABBA bloggers but if scaling Everest only happens in your dreams, read on – Just a few weeks ago on 14th May, a friend of mine, Rob Hart, made the summit and raised $15 000 in sponsorship for the Room to Read Project in South Africa and for building a school in Nepal. The trip took seven weeks, starting in Kathmandu on March 30th, and ending there on May 17th.

Passionate about Room to Read Rob and his wife, Anna, first got involved with the project when they moved to Singapore in 2008. Room to Read daily transforms the lives of millions of children in developing countries by focusing on books, literacy and gender equality in education. Apart from building libraries and encouraging children to read, they support girls, who in most circumstances would’ve had to drop out of school, with special scholarships which give them the chance to complete secondary school and reach their full potential.

But back to Everest!

Rob has climbed the Seven Summits at the rate of one a year since 2003. He says: 'I’ve dreamt of climbing Everest since I can first remember, and that dream morphed to include the highest mountain on each continent. The attraction of frozen digits, howling winds and inedible food eludes many, but to me the draw is that such adventure and challenge is still available in modern times.'

This year’s success was his second attempt at Everest. In 2005 the mountain defeated him with icy winds. Even this year’s assent was not without its drama. Coming face to face with other climbers on their way down who hadn’t made the summit, he writes: ‘We meet mostly disappointed climbers coming down in the other direction, because the wind was quite strong the day before, May 12. One girl sobbing through her oxygen mask stands out, her dream in tatters for the time being. I know how that feels from last time. Some of the others did not make the top, but are just happy to be getting down alive.’
The ‘getting down alive’ part is brought grimly home when they came across a Japanese climber who’d died two days before. ‘Apparently he had got hypothemia, become disorientated and when his sherpa tried to help him, he became aggressive and pulled off his goggles, and so they had to leave him. He was still attached to the rope, looking like a wax model, and just a few meters off that path, so we cut him loose and retied the rope so that climbers could continue to use the fixed line.’ ‘A quick 9 hour slog up the mountain and I am on top of the world. As you can see I was tired enough to want to sit down. With only 2 of us up there it was impossible to hold the flag out properly - Mike took 3 photo's of me with my flag with his hands out of the gloves in -20C, and this is the best one. You can see the South African flag with the Room to Read logo beneath it.'
For the record, the same Mike Horst who took the picture, went on to climb the Lhotse peak too and summited at 5am the next morning, becoming the first person ever to climb two 8,000m peaks within a 24 hour period! No wonder they’re drinking a beer! And below huge hugs for Daddy! Very few of us will make the Everest summit, but right now the Room to Read logo is lying at 8,848m at the top of the world! Quite an endorsement of reading!

So if anyone wishes to support Room to Read as they transform the lives of millions of children in the developing world – one book, one child, one community at a time, click here .

If You Go Down to the Woods - Charlie Butler

I’m not especially generous to charity, but I have a few conscience-lubricating direct debits that go off every month to selected causes. Sometimes, mind, I look at my little list and wonder about my priorities. Next to the cancer charity, and the fund to bring clean water to African villages, the longest-standing of these payments – my monthly contribution to the Woodland Trust – may seem rather trivial. After all, keeping a few broadleaf trees alive isn't quite as morally urgent as stopping a child from contracting cholera, is it?

Indeed not – but neither is morality as a zero-sum game, despite the tendentious arguments of policitians (“Wouldn't you rather we closed your local library than stopped homecare for the elderly? Do you hate old people that much?”). That is a false choice, because understanding and valuing what connects us to nature and to our own history is part of what makes us capable of caring about the other things too. Britain is, historically, an island of forests, and although frighteningly little remains of its ancient woodland, a visceral memory and sense of its importance persists amongst even the most urban of town dwellers. The wild wood, as Alan Garner once put it, is "always at the back of our consciousness. It’s in our dreams and nightmares and fairy tales and folk tales."

It's sometimes said that you can judge a country by the way it treats its prisoners. In children's books, woods and trees can act as a similar touchstone. In C. S. Lewis's The Last Battle, for example, we know things have got really bad when the trees are felled on the order of the False Aslan; while Saruman's willingness to cut down trees to feed his furnaces in The Lord of the Rings is a sure sign of his depravity. By contrast, a love of trees betokens health and moral soundness, whether they grow in Milne's Hundred-Acre Wood, a locus amoenus subject to seasons and weather but never to calendars, clocks or the other impedimenta of downtrodden adulthood; or in the hardier worlds created by Arthur Ransome and BB, whose children find both shelter and challenge under the shade of the greenwood, as Robin Hood did before them. Underlying all these, nestling in the leaf litter, lie our memories of the fairy-tale woods with their witches, wolves and wandering children. Their long roots wind in and out of our dreams, as ineluctably as those of Yggdrassil.

When my father died, I paid the Woodland Trust to protect an acre of woodland in perpetuity. Dad’s patch of earth is in a small wood near Winchester, not far (to bring in a gratuitous children’s literature reference) from the grave of Charlotte Yonge. One autumn day, a few months after his death, our family dedicated his acre by scattering his ashes there, in the furze of a small clearing. The ashes blew about a little (‘Don’t sneeze your grandfather!’ I warned my daughter), but I think the wood accepted our dusty libation. I plan to end up there myself, one day – unless of course it’s been turned into a car park by then. To prevent that happening, either to that acre or to many thousands of others, I urge you to consider signing one or both of these petitions, protesting against the current plans to sell off publicly-owned forest:

38 Degrees

The Woodland Trust

Dear Ms Keith - Nicola Morgan

I have been patiently waiting till today. Well, not very patiently, actually. It's just that I really wanted to shout a little bit about that silly letter in the Observer. (Scroll down to the one from Ann Keith.) Many people have already objected to what was in it and my message feels a tad out-dated, but 11th January is my allotted date to speak out on ABBA, so I kept a lid on it. Now, I'd like to reply to Ms Keith and set her straight.

Dear Ms Keith,
You say, "The self-righteous and arrogant puffery of the assorted literati to whom you gave publicity in your headlines and articles on Bookstart really cannot go unchallenged." Well, nor can ignorance. Let me put you right on two aspects, since to tackle you on every point would take too long and I've got books to write, a veritable fortune to be made.

First, you refer to the "amount of money" made by authors and publishers and ask us to declare our financial interest. I would like to tell you how little I earned from the sale of books last year but a) I have lost my magnifying glass and b) I'd be ashamed. Last time the Society of Authors did a survey of members, the figures were shocking. More than two thirds earn less than half the national average, for example; half earn less than the statutory minimum wage. Since then, we've had a recession and enormous price-cutting, slashing author incomes for almost everyone. So, Ms Keith, "financial interest"? Don't Make Me Larf. You have no idea. You. Just. Have. No. Idea.

Second, who are these children "patronisingly thought to be in need" of books? All children are in need of books. True, some parents are less able to buy them - which is a fact, not patronising - and if there was a way to get books to those families, I'd vote for it. But the Bookstart scheme, by giving books to all children, is therefore so far from being patronising that I wonder what dictionary you used when you chose the word.

Maybe, Ms Keith, you should read more books. Would you like a free one? I can't really afford to do this too often but I'd happily make an exception for you. If that's not too self-righteous, arrogant, or patronising.

Yours sincerely,

Very Crabbit of Edinburgh