The postman didn’t ring twice this morning – in fact, he didn’t ring at all.  I found him cowering behind a bush in the front garden, blubbing that he never wanted to sleep again.  I thought it a bit odd, to be honest, until I opened the package he had for me…

My author copies of Scream Street 9: Terror of the Nightwatchman had arrived, and I can only presume that the sheer horror of what happens to Luke, Resus and Cleo in this book had somehow seeped out of the envelope and into the petrified postie.

In SS9, Luke and Resus are woken with the news that Cleo has been kidnapped,  Following a trailer of what they believe to be her kidnapper’s blood, they find themselves in a strange GHOUL community hidden deep inside a jungle.  From there, a terrifying figure known as The Nightwatchman has been taking children from their beds while they have nightmares – then using powerful magic to keep them asleep so he can feed off their fear.  If Luke and Resus want to save their friend, they’re going to have to go inside Cleo’s worst nightmare themselves.

Here’s a taster of the action…

By the time Luke pulled himself onto the wide branch opposite Resus, he was out of breath and his arms felt like they were on fire.  “Where did you learn to climb like that?” he puffed.

Resus was perched, cross-legged on his branch.  “Vampires are naturally good at this sort of stuff,” he said.  “It comes from centuries of trying to escape angry mobs with pitchforks and torches.”

Luke clambered warily to his feet, clinging tightly on to the tree trunk.  There was a stiff breeze, and it felt as if the tree was swaying violently – although Resus didn’t seem to have any problems balancing.

“Can you see anything?” Luke asked, trying not to look down.  He closed his eyes and pressed his face tightly against the rough bark.

Resus swung himself up onto a higher branch.  “Not a lot,” he replied, “unless you mean more trees, that is.”  The jungle stretched as far as he could see in every direction, with no sign of civilisation.  But suddenly the vampire’s attention was caught by something off to the left.

“What is it?” hissed Luke.  “What can you see?”

Resus frowned.  “Probably nothing,” he replied.  “I thought I saw a tiny glow of light for a moment, but it must just be my mind playing tricks on me.”

“Well, my mind isn’t playing tricks,” said Luke.  “It knows I’m far higher than it ever wanted me to be.”

Resus skipped over to Luke’s branch and grinned.  “Don’t tell me the wicked werewolf is afraid of heights?” he teased.

Luke swallowed hard.  “I’ll just feel better when my feet are back on solid gr-”  He stopped, staring at something behind his friend.

“What’s the matter?” asked Resus.

“Remember I said this place must be swarming with all kinds of birds?” Luke whispered.  “Well, look behind you…”

Resus slowly twisted round on his branch to see a large black bird perched nearby, watching them intently.  He let out a sigh of relief.  “It’s just a raven!  You had me going for a minute!  There are ravens all over Scream Street…”

“Exactly!” replied Luke.  “But, we’re not in Scream Street – and I don’t remember learning that they liked to hang out in the jungle.”

“It can’t be that unusual,” said Resus, pointing.  “Look, there’s another one over there.  And another.  Maybe they followed us through the Hex Hatch.”

Sure enough, there were now several of them perched in the trees around the boys, all peering intently at them with dark, beady eyes.

“This isn’t good…” Luke said quietly.

“They’re just birds,” said Resus.  “What harm can they do?”

As if on cue, the ravens all took off from their perches and launched themselves towards Luke and Resus, screeching wildly.  Within seconds, the pair were lost in a churning cloud of black feathers.

Luke shielded his face as powerful wings batted against him and jagged claws scratched at his skin.  “Resus!” he cried, but all he could see were more and more dark birds descending.

The vampire had pulled his cloak over his head and was trying to curl up into a ball.  Ravens were pecking and tearing at his cloak with their sharp beaks.

Luke knew they had to get down from the tree.  If they could get to the ground, they might be able to run deeper into the jungle where the ravens couldn’t follow.  He cautiously reached out with a scratched, bleeding hand and dug the fake vampire nails into the tree trunk.  Moving blindly, he swung himself off his branch.  “Resus, we have to – Aargh!”

It was a few seconds before Luke realised he was falling.  The fake nails had simply slipped from his fingers and he could still see them, lodged in the bark, before they were lost from view as the ravens dived after him.  A grim thought flashed across his mind as he wondered who would reach the ground first.

“LUKE!” shouted Resus.

To Luke, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.  As he crashed through the smaller branches, his vision was filled by the rapidly approaching flock of birds, their beaks wide.  For a brief moment, the ravens appeared to merge together to form a snarling, shadowy creature with blazing white eyes…

Does Luke survive the fall?  The only way to find out is to read Scream Street 9: Terror of the Nightwatchman – out in the UK on 4th October.

Tommy

Yes folks, the summer is nearly over (okay, so that’s not great), and everyone is back to work (again, not so good). But hey, it’s not all bad. The sun is still shining – well, kinda, we’ve still got some kind of tan (again, kinda), so let’s put on our dancing shoes (or strange clothing for two), and get to it. There are books to read, stories to write and pictures to be made. Happy New (school) Year!

I found this on my drawing board this morning.

previous postcard

Hey guys!

A couple of weeks ago I achieved the impossible – I escaped from the caves!!! I won’t bore you with the intricacies of my escape plan – all I’ll say is it included a dark ritual that required 3 fingers from a writer’s hand. I’d like to thank Jon, Barry, and Sam for volunteering a finger each… Well, I say ‘volunteer’… [evil cackle] 

Anyhoo, I gained my freedom, scurried off to the nearest airport, and jumped on the first plane out of the UK. Luckily for me, it was a flight to Sri Lanka where my good friends Kasun and Dinali were getting married! They had a beautiful wedding on the beach, and I was asked to do a reading at the ceremony. I considered reading the infamous decapitation scene from Witchfinder 1, but thought that it might not go down too well with all the aunts and grannies in attendance! After the wedding a group of us headed off to explore Sri Lanka – a truly breathtaking country.

Now here’s the funny thing: I thought I’d successfully escaped all things monstrous… but I was wrong. Imagine my surprise when we visited the Pinnawela elephant orphanage and I saw a beastie from the UK taking a bath with the elephants. Yup, the Loch Ness Monster seemed to have hitched a ride over to Sri Lanka for her summer holidays, and here’s the picture to prove it…

See her there, taking a drink on the far bank?

I was really excited, until it was pointed out to me that ‘Nessie’ was in fact an old coconut tree that had been washed up when the river flooded. Oh, how they all laughed at my gullibility! Everyone knows there is no such thing as monsters! But we know better, don’t we, TBM fans? And on my return to Heathrow Airport the proof was waiting for me. The monsters from the cave had crowded into the arrivals lounge, each holding a large sign, the letters etched in blood:

WELCOME HOME, WILLIAM!!!

I thought you might like to see the cover for the next Clumsies book, the Clumsies make a mess of the BIG show! So here it is. I have my name in lights, finally. This book will be published in January 2011, which sounds a long time away but isn’t really. Sadly, we can’t get popcorn down here in the cave but now I need some. I MUST HAVE POPCORN.

Welcome to Part Two of my workshop on how to write your own scary stories! In Part One I talked about ways of finding ideas for a story by looking at your own worst fears – if you write about something that you are afraid of then it will seem genuinely terrifying to a reader! If you haven’t read Part One then check it out here, and as always if you’d like to download the full worksheet that goes with this workshop then you can find it here!

Part 2: What If…?

Okay, so if you’ve been following this workshop from the beginning then you’ll hopefully have a list of things that scare you. These can be anything you like – spiders and snakes, ghosts (or goats), vampires, werewolves and zombies, teachers and homework, vegetables, disease and death and, of course, CLOWNS – the important thing is that you are genuinely scared of them, or they at least creep you out a little!

At the moment, though, these things are just that: things! They aren’t stories yet. What we’re going to do now is look at ways of turning those things into ideas. And luckily we don’t need some kind of sophisticated inspiration machine for this, all we need are two simple words:

What if…?

Most books started life as a what if: what if a boy discovers he’s a wizard and gets sent to wizard school? What if a girl moves to a new school and meets a hunky vampire? What if a boy is convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to an underground prison full of monsters? (Er… that last one is mine in case you didn’t recognise it!) What if‘s are at the heart of all stories.

What if‘s are a writer’s greatest tool for discovering ideas, and if you get into the habit of asking that question everywhere you go then you’ll soon have so many ideas for stories that you won’t know what to do with them all. If it sounds a little weird just give it a go. Look out the nearest window, what do you see? Right now I can see a very old building opposite my office: what if it was once the headquarters for a group of monster slayers and beneath the streets is a vault containing dozens of creatures in cages, just waiting to escape? What if I saw somebody running up the street being chased by thugs, and I let them hide in my office only to discover they have stolen a mysterious object that people will kill to possess? What if I went to leave the office (my office is in a very old hotel full of weird corridors and hidden tunnels) and the layout had magically changed, and there was no way out, and ghosts started appearing from the rooms, and… Okay, I’m going to stop there before I freak myself out. But do you get the idea? Just think about all the strangest and scariest things that could happen wherever you are, all of the possible what if‘s.

So, what I’d like you to do now is try and add some what if‘s to your own worst fears. They can be as weird as you like, but try and pick things that would absolutely terrify you if they actually happened. Go crazy! The things that really terrify me are marionettes (those spooky puppets) and porcelain dolls (the single most nightmarish objects on the face of the planet. So some of my what if‘s could be:

What if somebody gave me a puppet as a Christmas present and it came alive and tried to kill me?

What if my sister’s porcelain doll was actually a young girl who had been placed under a curse centuries ago and needed to be set free?

What if a puppet contained the soul of its maker who was trying to find a new body to inhabit?

What if somebody found a way to control another human being the same way a puppet master controls a puppet?

And so on! I’ve just come up with these now, so they could be better, but I just wanted to demonstrate how easy it was! It will take a little while to get into the habit of asking what if, but I promise you if you ask that question everywhere you go, whatever you’re doing, then you will be swamped with new ideas. Of course not all of them will be suitable for a story or a book, and some may have been used before, but sooner or later you’ll have a eureka moment and hit on an idea that could become the new Harry Potter or Twilight (or, um Furnace)!

Take some time and think about what if‘s for each of your worst fears. And next time you’re out somewhere try it then too. One of the best places for what if‘s is at school: what if you’re looking for a book in the library and you discover a pamphlet about how to put a curse on somebody? What if you go to the toilet and your reflection does something that you don’t? What if your teachers started experimenting on pupils? What if your school holiday abroad turned out to be in a zombie plague area?! The pool of ideas is endless!

Check back soon for Part Three, where we’ll be taking a break from ideas and looking at how to create characters that really feel as if they’re alive! And if you have any questions about what if‘s then just ask!

Great news for UK Scream Street fans – the official Scream Street website has undergone something of a face lift!

With spooky new graphics, a new downloads section and more updates planned (Scream Street bookplates, anyone?), there’s a creepy new corner of the web to explore!  Check out the new-look site here: http://www.screamstreet.co.uk

Tommy

In this occasional series I shall look at the main obstacles the writer faces when attempting to transfer words from the brainbox, down the arm, into the hand – or talon if you’re an owl – and thence via pen, crayon or keyboard (computer, not piano) onto paper for the reading of.

Here is the first instalment, coming, as it does, before any of the others:

Enemy No.1 – Distractions

One of the greatest obstac… Oh look! A cloud in the shape of an organ grinder!

Sorry. As I was saying, one of the greatest obstacles to actuall… I wonder how high I could pile these dry roasted peanuts on top of each other?

What? Oh right. As I was saying, one of the greatest obstacles to actually sitting down and writ… I bet you a fiver I could throw this scrunched up bit of paper into that hollow plastic badger on the other side of the room with my eyes closed.

ARRRGGGH!!!

You see, the problem with distractions is they’re just so… distracting.

It’s amazing how unbearably irresistible hoovering a small rug becomes when you have an important writing project impatiently demanding your undivided attention.

I mean just look at those deliciously tempting, food-encrusted dirty dishes simply begging to be washed. And that grass isn’t going to mow itself is it? (though it would be very handy if it did mow itself, if a little unsettling).

My house is never as clean and tidy as it is when I should be writing.

The distant murmer of the television draws me, Siren-like, to be writer-wrecked on the sofa. And don’t even talk to me about the Internet.

No, seriously, DON’T talk to me about the Internet, because I’ll only start listening to you and then I’ll talk back and before we know it we’ll have chatted about the Internet for two hours and I won’t have done any writing and by then it’ll be time to iron my socks or pluck my knees or something.

No distractions allowed!

So the only way I can really make sure I concentrate fully on writing is to shut myself away in a small corner of a darkened room with a blanket over my head, disable the Internet on my laptop, put headphones on and play loud music (preferably something instrumental or sung in a language I can’t understand) to block out all external sounds.

Inside the writer's studio.

The only distraction I’m left with is daydreaming. But then, for writers daydreaming is one distraction that isn’t just allowed, it’s positively essential.

(I was going to carry on to cover procrastination, but I’ll do that next time.)

What did you do on your summer holiday?  Something exciting, I bet?  Or maybe relaxing.  Time to put your feet up and relax…

That’s what I wanted to do.  Really.  I thought I’d treat myself to a nice drive around America.  What could go wrong with that?  My first stop was the beach, ready for a refreshing swim. But I was put off because the water was a tad too cold and a little, um, sharky…

So instead I continued driving.  The roads became emptier, houses started to dwindle and I became hungry.  I passed a few remote towns… then encountered this rather unusual sign. Nothing too weird, right? Until I noticed how many people live there…

Deciding I would rather gnaw my own toes off than stop, I pressed on and turned onto an unfamilar highway…

Famish, and optimistic that nothing could possibly go wrong, I stopped at the lovely town called Rachel.  Actually, it’s more of a trailer park. There I found a delightful place to eat.

After a sumptuous meal and sinister warnings of “don’t stray off the path” I promptly strayed off the path and was startled to discover I had wandered into the mysterious, and notorious, AREA 51 – the top secret military testing ground where, it is claimed, the US Government house and fly captured UFOs.  The Government claim the base does not exist. Which was worrying because I was there.

Balderdash! I declared.  Who would believe that?

Then I was promptly chased across the desert by the sinister security guys, known only as The Cammo Dudes, who had been watching my every step.

After a paranoid getaway, I promptly returned to the Little Al’Le’Inn for a good night’s sleep, safe in the knowledge that there couldn’t possibly be alien technology housed behind the sinister mountain ridge…

Yes, that’s me. As a Pontin’s Bluecoat, 25 years ago. And spookily, this weekend I’m off to Pontin’s Pakefield camp, near Lowestoft, Suffolk, again - a quarter of a century later.

And all because of Frozen In Time. It’s funny how being an author suddenly brings up stuff from your past. After FIT won the Blue Peter Book of the Year Award back in March one of the national papers ran a story on it with the headline ‘FORMER PONTIN’S BLUECOAT WIN’S BLUE PETER BOOK AWARD’. And yes, there is a fleeting reference to my early career tucked away on my website, but this still made me chortle. It was so unexpected.

And then Pontin’s head office got in touch and said COME BACK! For a weekend. And – yeah – bring the family… So I will be revisiting my past at the site of one of my first seriously fun jobs. The monsters are leading me through the tunnels and up out through one of the the old east coast war fortifications and there I’ll be!

Talking a bit about it on BBC Radio Suffolk tomorrow between 1.30 and 2pm  (go HERE to listen live or later on iPlayer) and the Eastern Daily Press is covering it too. Doing an author session instead of a cabaret set will be seriously peculiar… talk about two worlds colliding! Go on. Talk about it. Guys! Has this sort of thing happened to any of you yet? Back to your old school or something..?