Members' news

 

Books

Another shout-out and congratulations to Teri Terry and Helen Larder. Teri's first adult thriller, The Stalker, is out now in a multi-book deal from Boldwood Books. And Helen's YA thriller, Hidden Toxins is out from Hawkwood Books. 

Happy book birthday to Jo Cotterill. THE PONY WHISPERER, fourth and final book in the Starlight Stables Gang books was published on October 2nd (and had an Amazon best seller flag when I checked - congratulations Jo!)

Christmas is coming but while most of the Starlight Stables Gang are excited about the annual seasonal party at the stables, Daniel isn't feeling very festive. His mum isn't well and he's struggling to manage caring for her and helping at home, alongside school work and finding time to go to Starlight Stables - the place he loves the most.

Then Daniel finds an abandoned horse in need of his help and suddenly he's got another thing to worry about. . . But will it prove one thing too many? Or will Daniel finally trust his friends enough to open up and ask for help when he needs it the most?

Barbara Henderson's latest historical novel for children came out on August 23rd with an exciting launch party in September. 720 years after William Wallace's execution, TO WAR WITH WALLACE, published by Luath Press, follows a young English boy, caught up in the Wars of Scottish Independence in the year 1297. Set in Chester, the Scottish Highlands, Stirling and the border region, the book explores themes of loyalty, friendship and identity. Whose side is Harry on? Who is his new master, Scottish nobleman, Andrew do Moray. And is Harry defined by his choice.

https://www.barbarahenderson.co.uk/

It's bookshop day on Saturday 11th October, so it's a good opportunity to support your local bookshop and your Scattered Authors friends at the same time.

Courses

Looking for some inspiration? Jenny Alexander's popular writing workshops are back. https://jennyalexander.co.uk/writing_workshop/

And Penny Joelson will be teaching a Writing YA course for City Lit, starting January. Full list of courses is here: https://faberacademy.com/product-category/courses/

Finally, there are still a couple of places available on the Scattered Authors' Winter Warmer retreat at Folly Farm. If you're a Scattered Authors member you'll have an email about it. Contact Alex English if you're interested in coming.

Do you have a book coming out in November? Any news you'd like to be publicised? Send the details to me, Claire Fayers by the end of October for inclusion. 

Suggestions for Teachers by Paul May

As I can't think of anything new to say this month I'm going to repost this short piece that I wrote ten years ago and that certainly hasn't lost its relevance.

In front of me now I have PRIMARY EDUCATION, subtitled "Suggestions for the consideration of teachers and others concerned with the work of Primary Schools." (1959)  How polite HMI used to be!

I read the pages of this book and find myself nodding in agreement with almost everything it says.  Don't be put off by the use of 'he' and 'his' for every child and teacher - this, from the introductory pages, still makes perfect sense to me.

The primary school should not (...) be regarded merely as a preparatory department for the subsequent stage, and the courses should be planned and conditioned, not mainly by the supposed requirements of the secondary stage, nor by the exigencies of an examination at the age of eleven, but by the needs of the child at that particular phase in his physical and mental development.

And this:

No good can come from teaching children things which have no immediate value for them, however highly their potential or prospective value may be estimated.

These 'Handbook(s) of Suggestions for the Consideration of Teachers' were published at intervals from 1905 until 1959.  The next passage was written in 1918, repeated in subsequent editions, and quoted again in 1959.

'The only uniformity of practice that the Board of Education desire to see in the teaching of Public Elementary Schools is that each teacher shall think for himself, and work out for himself such methods of teaching as may use his powers to the best advantage and be best suited to the particular needs and conditions of the school.  Uniformity in details of practice (except in the mere routine of school management) is not desirable even if it were attainable.  But freedom implies a corresponding responsibility in its use.

However, the teacher need not let the sense of his responsibility depress him or make him afraid to be his natural self in school.  Children are instinctively attracted by sincerity and cheerfulness; and the greatest teachers have been thoroughly human in their weakness as well as in their strength.' (Handbook 1918)

This is the heart of it.  It's why teaching was, and still can be, a great job.  But successive governments have made it far harder for a teacher to be their 'natural self'.  The principle that 'uniformity in detail is not desirable' has been ditched.  The teacher's world is dominated by the measurement of their efficiency in getting children to progress through defined benchmarks.  Instead of child-centred education we now have data-centred education.  Why did we let people tell us that child-centred education was a bad thing?   Here, to finish, is the opening paragraph of Chapter 2 of the often (unjustly) maligned Plowden Report from 1967. The picture above is from the frontispiece of the report.  Not much uniformity there. 

 'At the heart of the educational process lies the child. No advances in policy, no acquisitions of new equipment have their desired effect unless they are in harmony with the nature of the child, unless they are fundamentally acceptable to him.'

Oh my, this is a noisy world (Mr Rogers) - Joan Lennon

Mister Roger's Neighborhood (American spelling) TV series

ran from 1968 to 2001.

His mother knitted his cardigans.

Charlie Rose: Who's made a difference in your life?

Mr Rogers: Oh, a lot of people. But a lot of people who have allowed me to have some silence. And I don't think we give that gift very much any more. I'm very concerned that our society is much more interested in information than wonder. In noise rather than silence. How do we do that? In our business - yours and mine - how do we encourage reflection? ... Oh my, this is a noisy world.

1994/1997 interviews with Charlie Rose

He wasn't part of my childhood, nor my children's, but I'm discovering him now with my grandson. Mister Rogers was a quiet man in a noisy world, and when he spoke, children breathed out, snuggled in and listened. I'm grateful for the chance to spend time with him.

Joan Lennon website

Joan Lennon Instagram

BACK FROM THE BRINK or 'EXCUSES, EXCUSES’ by Penny Dolan

So much for September’s ambitions and hopes! 

Three days into the month and my hard drive crashed and died. With no warning, no nothing, and the desktop machine was ‘definitely dead, all right.’

My once trusted computer needed a whole new tower. We took the dead box to our reliable technology company who would find and supply a compatible machine. Great! But there would be a wait, as their annual holiday shut-down started the next day. Okay-ish. Two weeks later, they rang: the new machine was ready for collection. We sped to the site and brought the new box home. 

But - a big but - the empty machine needed to be refilled. Aaagh! With what? What data had I had stored on my computer? What was my visual memory of the screen? What did I actually do, any more?  

Gradually, images came back. I remembered this and that. The old data was transferred from backup discs stored away in a dark, dark cupboard. A few days later, my new machine was alive again. Even better, there was a recent version of my endless tome, thanks to my personal IT resource team. All was well and working again. So here I am again. Me and the machine.

But what is more important is that the ‘definitely dead’ quote that jumped into my mind, as familiar poetry often does, comes from a ‘conversation’ piece by poet Gareth Owen which John Foster, another poet, often performed. and included in his popular poetry anthologies. ‘Blenkinsop’ as it became known, worked well with older primary pupils back when I did school visits, although the lines might not fit the context of 2025 school or home life, or more modern values. What do you think?

I am posting the full poem here – with its real title - to remind you that Thursday 2nd October will be National Poetry Day 2025, and a good day for enjoying your own favourite poems and poets. 

There’s no excuse now, is there?

EXCUSES, EXCUSES by Gareth Owen

Late again, Blenkinsop?
What’s the excuse this time?
Not my fault, sir.
Who’s fault is it then?
Grandma’s, sir.
Grandma’s? What did she do?
She died, sir.
Died?
She’s seriously dead alright, sir.
That makes four grandmothers this term, Blenkinsop?
And all on PE days.
I know. It’s very upsetting, sir.
How many grandmothers have you got, Blenkinsop?
Grandmothers, sir? None, sir.
You said you had four.
All dead, sir.


And what about yesterday Blenkinsop?
What about yesterday, sir?
You were absent yesterday.
That was the dentist, sir.
The dentist died?
No sir. My teeth, sir.
You missed the maths test, Blenkinsop!
I’d been looking forward to it, sir.


Right, line up for PE.
Can’t, sir.
No such word as “can’t” Blenkinsop
No kit, sir.
Where is it?
Home, sir.
What’s it doing at home?
Not ironed, sir.

Couldn’t you iron it?
Can’t, sir.
Why not?
Bad hand, sir.
Who usually does it?
Grandma, sir.
Why couldn’t she do it?
Dead, sir.

. . . . . . . .

 

Thank you, Gareth Owen!

Penny Dolan

In Praise of Enthusiasm by Sheena Wilkinson

Over the last two weekends, I have been at two different conferences. Which sounds both worthy and intense – but, despite the inevitable tiredness and travelling, it was mostly great fun. Both of these conferences embodied the very best of what I love about books, and particularly children's books.  

The first event was the AGM of the New Chalet Club – rather a dry term for what was actually a weekend full of conviviality, book-buying and talks. A thriving organisation celebrating its thirtieth anniversary, which celebrates the works of Elinor M. Brent Dyer and brings together those many fans all over the world who still love her books, The NCC is one of two international organisations focussed on EBD, as we affectionately call her. This was an extra-special event as it also celebrated the centenary of the very first Chalet school book in 1925 – The School at the Chalet, the first, though the author could not have known that then, of 59 novels all set in the same school.

 

What made this weekend particularly special for me was that I was invited to be the keynote speaker and to launch my second school story, True Friends at Fernside at the same time. It was the greatest fun to be allowed, nay, expected to talk about my life and my books through the prism of the Chalet School. Spending the weekend surrounded by people who unashamedly loved girls' school stories, as well as reading generally, was a joyful and enriching experience. Some of the women – they were all women – were strangers to me; many I knew from previous conferences; one or two are now genuine friends, friendships kindled mostly at such weekends over the years. 

 

So often, particularly as women, we are made to feel guilty about our reading pleasures. Whether it’s children’s books or ‘women’s’ fiction, particularly romance, society tells us they are somehow inferior or trivial or even embarrassing. I remember the attitude of some people to the subject of my PhD thesis (Girls’ school and college friendships in twentieth-century British fiction): Not – how clever to do a PhD, but What use is a PhD on that? So it’s always refreshing to spend time with other people who ‘get it’. 

 

True Friends at Fernside was well and truly launched, heaps of books were sold, and I really felt the love and enthusiasm of so many adult readers. This enthusiasm for the book has translated into Amazon reviews, Facebook posts, private messages, and a wonderful sense of being part of an enthusiastic community of readers. Needless to say I came home with a heavier suitcase (there was a tempting book sale), a list of new Facebook friends and – which means the world to me – a host of new readers. 

Last weekend, I had a different but equally enriching experience when I attended the annual conference of Children's Books Ireland. CBI is the island-wide organisation whose mission is to make every child a reader. It does amazing work: advocacy; physically placing books in the hands in the hands of children who might not otherwise have them; publishing diverse and inclusive reading guides; supporting the makers of children’s books; celebrating the wealth of writing and illustrating talent we have in Ireland and nurturing the next generation. The work it does is wide-ranging and wonderful. And it's always a fantastic celebration to come together every year, to see this work showcased, and to listen to a wide variety of writers and illustrators for children.

Once again, I found myself surrounded by people who are passionate and enthusiastic in their love of and promotion of books and reading. 

 

Enthusiasm is infectious. I always return from events like this fired up with love for what I do. As a writer, I write with passion for every single project, and when that passion is matched by the enthusiasm of readers, it means the world. Almost every day since the NCC AGM I get messages from readers saying how much they loved Fernside or my other books. It’s all about connection, isn’t it? Connecting with readers.

And life as a writer isn’t always that jolly. As a writer of ‘quieter’ books, currently out of contract, it’s easy for me to feel jaded and worried about the current climate in publishing and where my career might be going.  My first adult novel Mrs Hart’s Marriage Bureau was beloved by its readers but it sold, in the words of its Big 5 publisher ‘disappointingly’. If your business model is to sell millions of books, Mrs Hart was a failure. If your aim is to connect with readers, then it was a huge success. (And yes, I know the two things aren’t mutually exclusive and the ideal would be to connect with millions of readers – or even tens of thousands.)

That’s why I am self-publishing its sequel, Miss McVey Takes Charge, as part of the Writers Review Publishing co-operative. (MUCH MORE ABOUT THAT NEXT TIME!) There’s quite an overlap in personnel between Writers Review and Awfully Big Blog – once again, we can see that sense of community and connection which underpins so much of our writing and reading lives. 

After all, isn't that what it's all about? 

 

Refilling the Ideas Bucket by Claire Fayers

 It turns out I have a bit more editing on my new book before my agent is happy so I'm not quite in the post-draft haze yet. But having just come back from holiday I've already started thinking about new ideas and Steve Way's blog post on signs Can You See the Signs? reminded me of a game I sometimes play when driving. Or, rather, when someone else is driving and I have time to stare out of the window.

You'll need a few place names. On the drive through Normandy I spotted:

Tréport

Verdun

Wanchy Capval

Smermesnil

Next, create characters.

Monsieur Tréport is a fussy little man in his sixties. He probably works in a bank. At weekends, he swaps his suit for a pair of gardening trousers and a checked shirt, and he grows geraniums. He has sixteen grandchildren who are a nosey, noisy crowd, and when they all visit, he retreats to his shed in the garden. Where he is hiding a stash of old bank notes he has carefully pocketed at work over the last thirty years. 

Detective Verdun is new in town. She's in her thirties and has been passed over for promotion no end of times so she's anxious to land a big case and prove herself. She thinks there's not much chance of that in the sleepy countryside town where she's ended up. She's a single mother with a twelve-year-old daughter, Mathilde, who is in the same class as two of M. Tréport's grandchildren.

Which brings us to the teacher, the impressively named, Henri Wanchy-Capval. He does his best but he's as dull as a piece of old toast and his classes could send an elephant to sleep. He has a secret desire to throw off his mild-mannered exterior and become an actor, but he would never dare.

Smermesnil isn't a person. Nobody would have a name like that. But when Mathilde Verdun persuades her new friends, Jacques and Emilie Tréport to explore their grandfather's shed, they find a case of old banknotes, a key, and the word Smermesnil written on the inside of a biscuit packet.

Or maybe Smermesnil is an alien explorer and Wanchy Capval is their trusty robot companion (in their language, Wanchy Capval means loyal friend.) Violet Verdun is a bored teenager desperate for adventure and Lucius Tréport is a moustache-twirling villain.

You can have a lot of fun with this. Most of the characters and storylines will end up back in the oblivion of my unconscious, but sometimes, something will stick. A name, an idea, the seed of a new book. It's also a good one to play with kids during school workshops.

Let me know if you try it.

Inspiration - Pt 2

 I think it also helps - a lot - to have an imagination as good and original as Stephen King's in the first place, but this comment still seems more than a little accurate.