I had heard that brilliant children’s author Andrew Norriss (CRTL-Z, WOOF! UNLUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD) was going to attempt a rescue. I was so excited because if anyone can pull it off, the man who created Gordon Brittas for the hit 90s comedy The Brittas Empire, could do it!

So imagine my distress this morning when I found a puddle of goo, a half eaten shoe and Andrew’s glasses. A few feet away was a hand held voice recorder and although the tape was dripping with monster snot, I was able to make out what was on it and type out a transcript. Andrew was recording his progress… and the ending will chill you to the bone…

ANDREW’S DIARY OF AN ATTEMPTED RESCUE…

Well, this is a great honour! An invitation to the cave to share a few moments with eight brilliant authors… They have warned me that the cave also contains monsters but I’ve not seen anything monstrous yet (apart from Andy Briggs’ haircut that is) and the food is good and the company is excellent.

But I haven’t just been invited here for the cucumber sandwiches, of course. Apparently I have to take my turn standing watch, ready to raise the alarm if something wicked our way comes, and I gather I’m also expected to write something witty and amusing, preferably about books, because that’s what everyone here seems to be interested in. To be honest, I’m a little old for either witty or amusing, but I have been thinking a bit recently about how we all get hooked on this book thing in the first place.

If you ask someone what their favourite book was when they were growing up, you’ll get one of two possible replies. Either they’ll tell you they never really got into books (and you try not to show how sad and pathetic you think that is) or they’ll tell you what the book was. And if you look carefully, you’ll notice that, even if the book in question was The Hungry Caterpillar, it was important to them in some way.

If you ask Ali Sparkes what her favourite book was, for instance, she will tell you it was Five go to Smuggler’s Cove – and that reading it changed her life. If you ask my son, Johnny, he’ll tell you it was Mortal Engines by Philip Reeves – and it changed his life too, though he won’t tell you that. If you ask me, I’ll tell you it was Target Island by Bruce Carter – I know, nobody’s heard of it – and that I have been a book worm every since.

Because that’s how it goes. Someone gives you a book while you’re growing up that isn’t just ‘quite good’, or ‘fairly interesting’ – it blows the top of your head off. While you’re reading it, the book takes you to another world – a world that contains just exactly and precisely all the things you wanted most in the real one. And after that, you’re hooked. Forever.

 I’ve always thought book reading was much like taking heroin – though with a couple of important differences. For a start, most books are legal, but more interestingly I note that whereas heroin addicts all take the same drug to get high, not everyone gets hooked on books by reading the same title. Five go to Smuggler’s Cove was what did it for Ali, Mortal Engines did it for Johnny… but it’s impossible to tell in advance which one is going to trip the switch inside someone’s head until it happens. If it hasn’t happened to you yet – and it doesn’t happen to some people ever – I guess all you can do is keep reading and hoping…

But once you’ve read whatever the book is that does the magic for you, you’re hooked. You’re lured into imaginary worlds where children catch smugglers, where towns move on wheels, where escape from an unwanted life is possible… Imagined worlds where literally anything can happen.

And talking of imagined worlds, I have a theory – and I know this is pretty wild and ‘out there’ but bear with me – I have a theory that maybe the authors of this blog are not really trapped in this cave by monsters at all. You may have spotted that all these people are professional writers. That means they enjoy thinking up stories. And I think perhaps that’s what they’ve done here. They’ve imagined that they’re trapped in a cave and that…

Hang on… Sorry… Thought I heard a noise out in the passageway… A sort of slithering sound with this odd farting noise… Perhaps I’d better wake the others and warn them that… Oh, no! The candle’s blown out and I’m… Hello? Is there anyone there? Sound the alarm!… Arrrh! Leggo my arm! Help! Somebody, please…

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!

I knew I shouldn’t have come…

 

 

Of course, it’s possible that Andrew has survived. If he kept the monsters laughing long enough, he might have managed to slip away. Only time will tell. But for now I have created a little shrine with his half eaten shoe, glasses and the recorder. I light a little monster earwax candle in front to it for five minutes every day… And I will get out on monsterweb whenever I can and check out www.andrewnorriss.co.uk to see if he reports in.

And here are three of his nicest book covers, as an online shrine…

Sniff.

 

 

Only two days to pick your fantasy team! Do it quick and you’ll have a chance to win my pick of the latest book releases in a genre of your choice. Open to adults and children. See how to enter in my previous post.

It’s free. It’s fun. Give it a go and liven up the next two weeks as you watch your team soar, stumble, fumble or crumble.

EDIT

OK, OK, so I got it wrong. The French sneakily started their Open Tennis tournament today (Sunday). There’d be none of that sort of behaviour at Wimbledon, I can tell you! How was I supposed to know they would do something ridiculous like start on a Sunday? Anyway, our mini league is already underway and it’s too late to join now – sorry.

Off to an early lead is the team chosen by S1lverb0a with Jeeves in second, my Random Backhanders in third, Pricey’s team in fourth and Joe Craig’s team bringing up the rear. I should say that Joe will probably be more happy than anyone after this first day as his is the only team not to suffer any casualties. Only two of his twenty players had matches today and they both won handsomely. Things look set to change rapidly over the next few days. Updates will be forthcoming.

Overall, the Trapped by Monsters average score places us 17th in the ranking of mini-leagues (there are 32 mini leagues taking part). Not an embarrassing start, people. Onwards and upwards.

Do you think it’s something particular about working in a so-called ‘creative’ job that means people ask writers about what they do and how they do it?

Wait, that doesn’t sound right. Let me clarify. I’ll start with the first part, and explain why I put ‘creative’ in inverted commas…

I’m a writer (obviously, or I wouldn’t be trapped in this cave) and it seems to me that most people I talk to see this as a ‘creative’ job. Yes – it is. But I’m not entirely sure that it’s any more creative, necessarily, than any other job. Surely it’s the way you do it that decides whether it’s creative or not?

I think you can be a writer yet not be especially creative (though I admit it would be hard to be successful) just as I think there are loads of firefighters, dentists, accountants, construction workers, IT specialists, engineers, solicitors (etc) who apply a huge amount of creativity to their work. In fact, I think it would also be hard to be successful in any of those jobs without applying a little creative thinking every now and again.

So onto the second part, which is that this perception of creativity makes people curious about how things are done when I go to work. I can understand this. Writing novels can seem a very mysterious thing if you’ve never sat down and tried it. Yet at the same time, people find it hard to believe that their jobs are just as mysterious to me. What does an accountant actually do all day? How do they do it? Where do they get their ideas from?

Everything I know about writing stories and being creative I learned from being a songwriter. That was my first profession. It was a profession I’d been preparing for over many years. I’d read about it, studied it, worked at it… then became diverted from it when I found myself producing books!

All of this is a bit of a preamble to me explaining that much of my inspiration and motivation still comes from the same places that I went to when I was a songwriter. So here’s a little article I just read that applies to songwriting, novel writing, any kind of writing, but also to all those jobs that people might not think are obviously ‘creative’. They are. So I suppose I’m saying that this could apply to a lot of people.

Or maybe it’s just me. Oh well, check it out and let me know…

http://sivers.org/goals

It’s called ‘Goals Shape the Present, Not the Future’ and it begins:

You have a goal you’ve been putting off.

You want to do it some day.

You’ve been meaning to take real action on it, but could use more motivation.

Let it go. It’s a bad goal.

If it was a great goal, you would have jumped into action already. You wouldn’t wait. Nothing would stop you.

Sobering thoughts for those moments when I’m trying desperately hard to write and a bit of my brain just can’t get going.

The French Open is approaching. As we can’t actually see the action here in the cave, and can only dream of sunshine and the ‘grunt thwack, grunt thwack,’ of Maria Sharapova doing her stuff, I thought I’d create a Trapped By Monsters Dream Team mini league for a bit of fun. If you would like to pick a team and enter the mini league I’ve set up at Tennis For Free Dream Team, then we could have a friendly little competition. As the website says, it is free to enter a team, though they do offer a way of donating if you should be so moved.

What you need to do is click on the register tab at the top of the page and follow the instructions to set up your dream team. When you have your team complete, look for the tab that says ‘My group’. Here you will need to complete two fields – the group name is Trapped by Monsters and the password is:

5a963aaa2ecadeb506760f3c54f97be2

I suggest you cut and paste the password – lots of characters there. When the French Open begins, I’ll try to post regular updates to let everyone know who’s team is winning, but you’ll be able to follow the action on the Tennis for Free site as it happens if you wish.

If you’re going to take the whole thing seriously, then I suggest you put down any old team for now just to get registered – I’ll post a link to the draw when it’s been made. You can always swap your team around until the competition begins. Once the balls start flying, then your chosen team is set in stone.

I’ll have a think about a suitable prize for anyone who can beat the best of the teams chosen by participating authors … perhaps even one for the best overall score and one for the best picked by someone who is under 18. Do remember to indicate whether you are under or over 18 when you set up your team (there is a box for this).

There’s a box of fudge up for grabs for the highest score by an author’s team. (That should ensure at least one other author joins in!) I fully intend to eat that fudge myself!!

The more observant of you may well have noticed that I haven’t been posting much of late.  There’s a very good reason for my lack of activity on here.

I escaped.

It started a couple of weeks back, when I was invited to go and talk to the winners of the Pushkin Prizes – a writing competition for Scottish and Russian secondary school pupils.  The winners spend a week in a writers’ retreat with professional authors, developing their already impressive writing talents.

I was invited along to talk about INVISIBLE FIENDS, the writing process, and how I managed to convince anyone to give me a six-book deal, much less an actual bona-fide publisher.

The event went very well indeed, although as you’ll see from the photos below, the venue was quite cave-like, giving it an unwelcome “home from home” feeling.  Still, I got to sit in a big, throne-like chair and pretend I was the queen, so that was quite nice.

Of course, I wasn’t allowed out on my own.  Brunt Slackcheeks, one of the few vaguely humanoid monsters, accompanied me on the long underground walk to the event.  Several times during the trek I collapsed with exhaustion, and I should really thank Brunt for so kindly dragging me the last forty miles by my hair.  Without this gesture, I would never have made it, and I’m confident the searing pain and perpetually startled expression I have developed will both pass in time.

Once I’d finished the Q & A session with the prizewinners, I said my goodbyes.  Brunt had cunningly disguised himself as a Russian KGB agent, believing this would help him fit in with the Russian winners.  Unfortunately for Brunt, only one Russian winner could make it, and as she was a 15 year old girl, the blending abilities offered by his disguise didn’t quite work.

Anyway, like my fellow authors, I have been studying the monsters’ movements since getting here, and I’ve learned a few things.  Brunt may be nine feet tall with razor-sharp teeth and fists that could split rocks, but I know there’s one thing he’s terrified of.  One thing that strikes fear into his black, shrivelled heart.

Processed cheese.

I’d spotted the pack of Dairylea slices on the kitchen table when I entered, and I’d been thinking about it during the entire presentation, praying no-one tidied them away.  Getting to the exit involved passing back through the kitchen, and I knew that would be my chance to shake of my captor.

Sure enough, when I got there I found the cheese slices scattered on the table.  I hurled myself at them before Brunt could realise what was happening.  Snatching five slices up, I hurled them like throwing stars.  Brunt screamed as the first slice slapped against his forehead.  He bellowed as another caught him on the shoulder.  And as I tossed the remaining slices in his direction, he fell to the ground in a dead faint!

I was off and running before he hit the floor, crashing and stumbling through the undergrowth, desperately trying to put as much distance between myself and the monster as possible before he woke up.  I ran until my legs ached, my lungs burned, and my head went light with the effort.  So about a minute.  Maybe a minute and a half.

Suddenly, a roar of primal rage split the air.  I glanced over my shoulder to see Brunt exploding through the door, shattering it into sawdust.  His blood-red eyes fixed on me.  His fat green tongue flicked hungrily across his thin lips.  Then, with a twitch of his muscular legs, he charged.

But how did I escape to go on the run, I hear you ask.  Well that, dear reader, is another story, and one I will reveal soon…

I’m afraid that my scanner isn’t working at the moment, so I had to photograph this. I’ll go one slightly better than Sam, as I was six when I wrote this masterpiece. At the end of this same story book (I was seven by then) came my first epic – Arthur the Strongest Ant in the World. It was twenty two pages long. Sadly, I’ve lost the ending, because it spanned through two exercise books and the other one has long since been lost. I’d become a little more adept with language by then, though the story was no where near as intense as Sam’s. I’ll bet he got better marks in school for English than I did.

It was the story of Arthur that set the chapter lengths in my first novel – The Forging of the Sword. I reasoned that if I could write twenty two pages as a seven-year-old, then I could do it as an adult. Twentyish pages in my handwriting is about 5500 words, which is the rough word count per chapter in my first seven books. Just goes to show how early work can affect you many years later.

In case you can’t read it, what I think I meant to write was this:

One day, Fred the crocodile said ‘Why doesn’t anyone like me?’
He came to squirrel’s house, but squirrel ran inside and hid, as he thought the crocodile was going to eat him. But then a snake came slithering along. The snake did want to eat the squirrel, so the crocodile killed him and from then on all the animals liked Fred.

Snakes were often the bad guys in my early stories. As anyone who knows me will be aware – I’m not big on snakes even now.

Wow. Well (shuffles, blushes) following on from Ali’s previous post asking about our early efforts, there’s, um, this below, I guess.

It’s called THE HAUNTED CAVE. I found it in a cupboard about ten years ago just before moving out of the house where I grew up: it’s my earliest surviving complete story. I think I wrote it when I was seven years old!

As you can see – if you overlook the cliches and so on, gah! – certain characteristics of my, heh, later work were already set in stone. Notably speed, action, and dreadful handwriting! ;p

OK – it’s SHOW & TELL time. When I go into schools to talk about how I got to be an author (a long and odd tale, usually involving fresh produce, much shouting of the word ‘PLOP’ and some unfeasibly large underpants) I invariably talk about the first books I wrote.

These were done between the ages of 14 and 16 (I think). Four stories, in all, about me and my two friends, Val and Lou, in Famous Five style adventures. I sent three of them off to Penguin Books Ltd in 1981, and for my pains received my first ever rejection letter. I carry it proudly with me wherever I go.

Anyway, the point is, these early scribblings (whether words or pictures) are vital to what happens later. Like the foundation bricks of a house you are later going to build. (I think I’m up to the damp course by now).

So I reckon my fellow authors must have some of these too. And if so – I want to see them! So – come on, boys! Dig ‘em out, scan ‘em in and post ‘em up! Share a bit of your early genius!

Ah c’mon!

Two pages from Websters On The Warpath, the third of my quartet of early novels. Note how neat the handrwiting was! And the psychotic personality clues in the weird curve of those ‘y’s… I don’t do this any more. Honest.

The most difficult thing about writing a book is not to get distracted by things.  Of course, down in the caves there is a lot to get distracted by – strange noises, farty smells, monsters and rabid authors.

Unfortunately, I am trying to write HERO.COM 4 right next to the sole Internet computer in the caves and found this website:

WARNING LABEL GENERATOR

Now I’m labeling everything. In fact, I have just stapled a “crazy author” one to Ali’s head. Right, back to work…
… ooh, I see another distraction over there… shiny, shiny…

For your further edification I present the following tale of woe. Prepare yourself, gentle reader, for the grisly saga of Alexander Gordon Smith (author of the awesome FURNACE: LOCKDOWN, reviewed here) and his valiant, imaginative yet sadly doomed attempts to rescue us all from captivity.

His last words as he disappeared head-first into the bucket of monster solids were “It reads better if you imagine The Two Ronnies singing it.” Let us hope these cryptic words don’t prove to be this terrific author’s epitaph.

NOW READ ON…

ESCAPE!

by Alexander Gordon Smith

-

Eight intrepid authors met up one winter night,

To write a book of horror lore and give the kids a fright.

It was meant to be a tome of monster pain and slaughter,

A terrifying nightmare for our nation’s sons and daughters.

(Yet soon it would be these poor souls who found out about torture!)

-

Trapped by monsters in a cave, so far beneath the ground,

That even when they screamed for help we could not hear a sound.

Forced to do their captors’ bidding in their cells of slime,

Made to write – dear god forbid – poetry that rhymes!

(And doomed to serve their beastly masters till the end of time…)

-

They’re only let out now and then to spread the monsters’ word:

“We monsters truly aren’t that bad” – it’s really quite absurd!

On such a day, in London Town, I met Sam Enthoven,

And nervously he challenged me to come up with a plan.

(“Get us out, for heavens sake – just save us if you can!”)

-

Now I really am no hero, I’m the opposite of brave.

“There is no blooming way,” I said, “I’m going near that cave!”

But then I watched as poor old Sam was dragged into the drains,

By a brutish beast with forty toes that loved inflicting pain.

(And then I vowed: “Sam don’t you fear, you’ll see the sun again!”)

-

My first plan of action was to blow up all the doors,

So I packed my bag with detonators, fuses and C4.

I’d blast their prison open, my brilliant plan was flawless!

Until I went and realised that the bloomin’ cave was doorless…

(The cells are locked up tight with goo, it’s really quite a raw mess.)

-

Plan B: trick the monsters, it couldn’t fail to work!

“Sam,” I said, “just dress up like an ogre gone berserk.”

Sam spread himself with bogeys, an incredible disguise,

He was so convincing that the monsters let him by!

(Until Gwyneth took a fancy and made herself his bride!)

-

Next I thought I’d bake a cake and smuggle in a file,

Those eight pour souls could saw right through their windows with a smile!

But I passed the cake to Gurt Theeg, that wretched bad luck goblin,

And the goblin gobbled it down his throat, even with the file in!

(And judging by his groans of pain it’s filing his intestines…)

-

“Ali, why don’t you charm them with some of your poetry?

Sing them a nice lullaby and make them go to sleep.”

She composed a masterpiece and sung it to her guard,

But when he fell asleep she didn’t manage to get far.

(The beast had fallen on her and squished her with his a*$e!)

-

I started watching prison shows to get some fresh ideas,

And thought of drugging monsters with some chloroform tortillas.

It would have knocked them out for hours on that cold cave flooring,

But Joe scoffed all the poisoned snacks, it really was appalling.

(He’s been asleep for three weeks now and hasn’t once stopped snoring!)

-

“Why don’t you try and sneak out through the prison laund-er-y?

Jump into the trolley and then soon you’ll be home free!”

Andy followed my advice, he thought he had a chance,

But ended up beneath a pair of slimy monster pants.

(He needed to be rescued by a digger and some clamps!)

-

I told Mark and David: “You can get out through the sewer!”

Not knowing that inside it was a world-class monster poo-er.

As soon as they dropped through their loo they found it overflowing.

Are they still alive down there? There is no way of knowing!

(Except for the occasional sound of something human groaning…)

-

“Tommy, try to start a fire and set off the alarms.

You’ll be evacuated before you all come to harm.”

But the instant that he lit a match and held it to some dry rot,

A monster aimed his snozzle in, extinguishing it with snot!

(And now poor Tommy’s covered, there really was a lot.)

-

“I know what to do,” I cried. “Tunnel through the walls!”

But when Barry tried to do so he found there was no wall at all –

His cell was a vast stomach, a gooey gloop of guts,

Belonging to a monster who had tried to eat him up.

(“Argh, the only way I can escape is crawling out its butt!”)

-

Yuk!

-

Oh dear, Oh dear, Oh dear, I thought, this isn’t going well,

All I’ve done is make those writers sleep or sink or smell.

If I’m going to break them out I’ll have to risk my health,

Sneak into the prison, take those monsters on myself.

(And hope that I’m rewarded with a great degree of wealth.)

-

So that very afternoon I ventured to their lair,

With every single trembling step I’d offer up a prayer.

With stakes and silver bullets, and holy water too,

I stepped into that cave to do just what I had to do…

(Although quite how to do it? I didn’t have a clue!)

-

The moment that I entered, I came under attack,

I knew I was in trouble but there was no turning back!

My weapons were all useless, the beasties were too tough,

My holy water scared them but it just wasn’t enough.

(Though it did manage to make them smell a little less like guff!)

-

Then just when things seemed futile, when I thought that I was dead,

I threw down all my weapons and tried something else instead.

Monsters do love poems, perhaps they’d like this one?

And whilst I read it out to them my dear old friends could run!

(And somehow we would ambush them as soon as I was done.)

-

So I began to read aloud, the monsters crowded round,

The writers slipped out of their cells, they didn’t make a sound!

As soon as I had finished I said, “Now it’s time to fight!

Come on writers, finish this… Let’s give these beasts a fright!

(Er… Hello? Is anybody there? Please don’t leave me behind!”)

-

Guys?!

-

Guys!!!!!!!

-

Aaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!