Can You Hear It?

When I begin to write a new story, regardless of what age range I am aiming for, there’s a voice I hear as I jot down the words.

Sometimes the voice is loud and clear and other times it whispers before disappearing from my mind until I work my way through each chapter. When the voice stays with me for long periods of time I know I’ve finally found what I’m looking for. My main character has arrived. They have found their place within the lines on my page and they are asserting their authority with dialect and humour and everything else they need to get their point across.

Once I’ve finished my first draft I leave it alone for a few weeks. I like to think it’s getting a holiday from my brain and all the ‘what ifs’ I throw its way as I wade through the first inkling of a plot.

Once rested and dusted off, my story and I haven’t seen each other for a while. It’s like an old friend. We just pick up where we left off and hope that we don’t fall out or go in a huff with each other when I change things about or delete an unnecessary character.

My latest story has a character who is 11. So I do what all fledgling writers do, I tap my heels three times and wish I was that age all over again (I don’t really as that’s the calm before the teenage hormone storm and no-one wants to go back there, do they!) I only wish I was 11 again so that the conversations I need my characters to have, are genuine and authentic.

I can only pass it on to those of that age once it’s ready to share and see what they say. I compare that part of the process to waiting in the queue on parents night, a short revelation of what’s good and what ‘needs to be worked on’ from those in know.

I want the quiet but firm voices that make a reader hold their breath as they read through a tension-filled scene or the robust, theatrical voices that sing as they bounce about the page turns. Dramatic, inviting and unforgettable. That’s what I’m aiming for anyway. Only time will tell if I’ve achieved that or not.

Voices need to be heard but only if they are the right ones for my story. The right tone and sentiment to bring my characters to life – snotty noses and all.

Four Words

I have an agent!

Four words I never thought I would ever say but there you have it. I pitched my story, I chatted without being sick (believe me, when a gatekeeper asks you a question you might feel a bit woozy with nerves) and all the hard work and crossed fingers for luck made my dream come true.

I am delighted to confirm that I have signed on the dotted line with the fabulous children’s agent Alice Sutherland-Hawes, from The Madeleine Milburn Literary, TV and Film Agency.

I pinch myself every day.

I am now editing my story knowing I have her guidance and knowledge to help me over the bumps in the road.

I did it, Gran Gran. I just wish you were here to celebrate with me.

The Great Imposter

My imposter syndrome thoughts started a while ago, when I first put pen to paper and considered myself a writer. Back when I was changing nappies in between drafts and using snail mail because on-line forms and e-mails weren’t used much at the time.

Fast forward fourteen years and here I am. I was lucky enough to be selected to take part in The Hook. For those unfamiliar with it, it’s an event held every year at the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators annual conference.

For those of a nervous disposition, look away now.

The Hook is where six brave souls get the chance to pitch their work to four agents in a minuscule amount of talking time. No biggie, I thought, I speak in front of important people a lot, I’m sure this will be fine.

That’s what I thought to myself when I submitted my words, again when I received the e-mail that I was selected to appear and once more when I sat in my seat waiting my turn to go up on stage.

And then the event started. As my SCBWI colleagues-in-arms took to the floor for each of their pitches, I suddenly thought, this is huge. Olympic medal huge. Landing on the moon huge. Life-changing huge.

When the event was over and the results came in, not only had I come 2nd (yay but how on earth did that happen, stewards enquiry!), I got the chance to speak to gate-keepers who actually liked my pitch. They were interested in my main character and the life that had been thrown at him, they wanted to know more, to understand my thought processes behind who he is and how he came to be. I had to fight the urge to look over my shoulder, convinced they meant these encouraging words for someone else.

I came away from the conference this year with a huge confidence boost that my writing was more than I ever thought it could be. Even now when I talk to people about that day, I smile and remember the moment the auditorium went quiet and my SCBWI friends crossed their fingers and toes for me as I shared my work, live and on stage. I remember the moment I started to pitch, totally forgetting the words I knew inside and out and so I was extremely thankful for the homemade prompt my son made for me. Just in case, he said. Too right.

I am determined to see this through, to send my work out and see where it takes me. I still feel like an imposter when I find myself in the same room as Carnegie nominees and award-winning creatives as I recognise names from the books that fill my shelves at home. However, a quiet voice in me will say, that could be you one day.

And why not.

Don’t Darken my Eye Back Door Again

I met you by chance. Your mass of brown cells sat quietly behind my optical nerve before the light picked you up and made you visible.

Were you just waiting for your special moment to pounce or are you quite happy with your lot, sitting in the dark, silently evolving without a care in the world?

You may think you’re unassuming with your blob-like structure, but I’ve met your kind before. One minute you’re all ‘yay, look at how cute I am’ then with a flick of your cell structure you force us to wait to hear all about you and the plans you’ve made for me. Plans you had no intention of sharing, you just assumed I would be along for the ride.

I got the news today that you’re not so round and invasive as I first thought, you’re actually the perfect shape, flat and unchanged, the shape of hope. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.

I’ve got news for you my freckle friend. Beat it.

Don’t darken my eye back door again. You’re not welcome there or anywhere else on my being for that matter.

I know where you’re hiding now. I’m coming to get you.

Got My Orange Crush

I have no idea why I woke up with the R.E.M song ‘Orange Crush’ going around in my head. Earworms are a normal start to my day but this one was particularly loud and insistent.

Once the first sip of tea was consumed, it dawned on me once again that I had finished my first draft of current WIP. A milestone I’ve been trying to reach for months and finally, I’ve got there.

The pile of paper sitting in its brand new folder, waiting to be read out loud before heading to my favourite in-house geek for tense and grammar scrutiny, smiled back at me from the lever arch file on my desk aka the dining room table.

I tend to think of my work in a traffic light system.

Red – means I am still writing it. Still fighting with characters and chapter headings as I work through the story in my head and when I sprinkle my thoughts onto the page, I hope they resemble something tangible.

Orange – the amber nectar of the sequence is the best part. It’s when THE END has been written for the first time after editing. It’s just full stops and verbal reasoning from now on. A rush of excitement gets me every time I reach this part. Mantra repetition also begins – Do not send it out just yet, it’s not quite ready. Do not send it out just yet, it’s not quite ready.

Green – the pressing of the send button. Sometimes the queasiness felt outweighs this amazing part of the journey. Most of the time I need a wee nap and a cry. There, there my keyboard says. We can have a break and listen to some music.

At the moment, I’m on orange but turning into green shortly. Only when it’s ready. Who knows what the song in my head will be when I press the Button of Destiny.

I can’t wait to find out.