This week, I was going to write a post filled with writing tips, but then I found this video – which says just about everything I was planning to cover:

I posted an article a while back, about how I like to produce a short sequence of drawings on a single page as a warming up exercise before I get down to the really messy business of ‘creativity.’ Well, with this recent cold snap moving in I’ve been needing more warm-ups than usual and I came up with this, um…story. It’s not really a story, of course, but it’s a staring point for me, suggesting new characters and a possible scenario within a story idea.

I love wordless books. There are plenty of them out there, be them picture books or comics for kids of ALL ages. I’ll see if I can dig a few out and post them here. Just goes to show you don’t need words to tell a story.

Um….best not tell the others in here I said that – you know how sensitive authors can be. (No? Oh, don’t get me started).

A pair of links for you, to recent interviews with the authors of two of the finest books I’ve read this year, namely:

Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie, and-

Locke & Key: Welcome to Lovecraft by Joe Hill.

Both interviews are a blast to read, but there are some great writing tips in there too. Watch out particularly for what Abercrombie says about daily writing discipline, and Hill’s “first step to making a successful horror story”.

You know, in some ways being kidnapped by monsters and held prisoner in a cave for nearly a year isn’t quite as bad as it might be.

For one thing (and maybe I’m reaching here, but…) thanks to the monsters’ internet connection, I haven’t been deprived of music.

Not at all long ago, a music collection was something that had to be confined to a physical location: a stack of cd’s, say (don’t get me started on records and tapes). Now, of course, that’s no longer the case. And I can’t tell you how grateful I am.

Music is an essential part of my daily life. It’s also an essential part of my writing process. I don’t listen to music while I’m actually writing (or not usually – for me it’s too distracting) but I use music all the time in other ways: when I’m getting myself ready to write, when I’m thinking myself into a different frame of mind for a particular scene, and when I’m trying to come up with ideas.

I’ve found that all sorts of music can help with this stuff. But I thought I might share with you a few specific things that have been making my story-brain twitch and bubble over the last month or two…

Broadcast And The Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults Of The Radio Age sounds like it was recorded forty years ago, but it wasn’t: it’s only been out since October. A series of short experimental pieces (none longer than a few minutes), this mini-album plunges you straight into the woozily sinister atmosphere of a 1970s horror film.

I liked where that took me so decided I’d stay, with the newly-reissued soundtrack to a genuine horror classic from the era, Blood on Satan’s Claw, composed by Mark Wilkinson. Disarmingly cute and massively ominous both at the same time, you can hear some samples of it here.

On the same label (Trunk Records) I found this incredible story about the rescue of another soundtrack from the era, in this case that of a nature documentary: Life on Earth, composed by Edward Williams. Imagine a whole album about living creatures and their biological processes. The Sex Life of the Fern, I can tell you, is a particular highlight. Comb Jellies is dead good, too.

Finally, here’s something really odd: twenty-two pieces of experimental techno created by various artists Twitter style – allowing themselves a maximum of 140 characters of code. Click here to hear sc140, and even download it free for you to own if you like.

Febrile psychedelia, rustic English horror, music for jellyfish and what sounds like the stomach rumbles of computers. There are all sorts of weird noises to be heard in these caves. But it’s great to be able to choose them for yourself.

If you’re interested in what else I’ve been listening to, you’re welcome to take a look at my LastFM profile.

-Sam

PS: The first illustration in this post is by Henry Holiday, from Lewis Carroll’s The Hunting of the Snark.

I was at Epsom College today, allowed out of the cave for my final school event of 2009.

While being dragged back to the cave by my ankles by the monster I know simply as ‘Miss Angelina’, I was mulling over the elements that distinguish children’s books from adult fiction. It’s something I spoke about in a talk recently, so let’s put it down here and see what you think.

To start with the obvious: the main characters are children and the main themes are those that children will relate to, whether consciously (family dynamics, school stories etc) or subconsciously (empowerment of the most vulnerable, discovery of mysteries etc).

Fine. I don’t think that’s entirely necessary, but I don’t want to get bogged down on it now.

There are also, of course, more superficial factors: I tend not to use cumbersome vocabulary (or as I would call them, ‘long words’) or anything that would be considered ‘unsuitable’ by parents.

Again, fine. Again, not entirely necessary, but not what I want to talk about.

Because I think there are more interesting differences. I reckon that children’s novels tend to prioritise conflict and structure, whereas adult fiction places more importance on character and setting.

Let me quickly add: those 4 things are not in opposition to each other, though I realise I’ve phrased this so that it might seem that way. Conflict, structure, character and setting all feature in every story. In the best books they work together beautifully. And of course, at least one of them – conflict – is fundamental to all stories, whatever the intended audience. I just think that the relative weighting of these elements differs between children’s books and adult fiction.

SETTING is the easiest one to illustrate. There are some children’s books that feature stunning settings, beautifully evoked. But there are many more adult novels that are, basically, wholly about their setting. I can’t imagine describing any children’s book as, for example, ‘an amazing depiction of life in 1950’s America’. Or saying, of a children’s book, ‘brings to life the world of Eighteenth Century Paris’.

There may be some children’s books of which those statements are true, but they wouldn’t be the first things you’d say about them. In the end you probably wouldn’t mention them at all. You’d be too busy talking about the plot.

CONFLICT creates plot. But it seems to me that children’s books require a more obvious level of conflict, and that they emphasise what I would call ‘outer’ conflict (trouble brewing in the world, or danger coming to your doorstep) rather than ‘inner’ conflict (psychological demons, addiction, guilt etc).

My favourite stories combine a bit of both, and that’s what I try to do with Jimmy Coates, but the balance in children’s books (including my own, I have to admit) seems to be more towards outer – and very obvious – conflict. Compare that to all of those adult novels where, basically, nothing much happens except for a subtle shift in a character’s outlook.

STRUCTURE seems more obvious in most children’s books too. Of course, all stories have some kind of structure, but in children’s books you can almost see the scaffolding. That’s not a criticism – all I mean is that an adult reader is less likely to need that constant comfort of feeling that the shape of the story follows a familiar contour. Most children probably aren’t consciously aware of the structure of the books they’re reading, but if it weren’t there, they’d be more likely to feel uneasy or impatient with it.

I constantly hear said of my own books that the action keeps readers gripped. That’s a great compliment, and it’s lovely that otherwise impatient readers get a lot out of Jimmy Coates, but it’s not the action that’s doing it. That’s an illusion. It’s the structure. I’m pretty sure of that.

CHARACTER is at the centre of story-telling. It’s right in there with conflict. There are some fantastic children’s book characters, but don’t they tend to be embroiled in correspondingly active plots, to which they react? Whereas in an adult book, you’re much more likely to get a character who does nothing, but who is. Simply being, however interesting the character, is not an option you see taken much in children’s books. Nor is the being of the character very often the catalyst for the story, the way that it might be in an adult novel.

So:

Children’s books emphasise conflict and structure.

Adult fiction emphasises character and setting.

There will be counter-examples. I fully expect you to bring them to my attention.

Two items of Q&A for you.

The first is something I was asked this week via the MySpace page of Jagmat from The Black Tattoo. Huge respect and kudos – partly just for not letting the whole shapeshifting blancmange monster thing put him off! – to Mykell, from Maryland, USA, who wondered:

What kind of research do u do when u are writing ur books?

Research… hmm. If you’re talking about facts and figures, details of setting and time and place and action… it depends.

I think details are important, especially in a fantasy story: they give the reader something to hang onto; they make things seem real. For instance, I got the fight scenes in Black Tat checked out by genuine martial artists. While I was writing the book, I met a lady at a party who turned out to be the ranking Number 3 North European Women’s Sabre Champion! She was wonderfully sporting about reading Black Tat’s swordfights for me: I got these excellent emails from her saying, ‘Well, ok: if I was fighting a thirty-foot-long hedgehog centipede beast, I suppose I’d start off on the back foot, with this sort of a grip…’ and off she went. I hope those kinds of details give some realistic weight and crunch to Black Tat’s fights. And if a story needs other kinds of information, I’ll find out everything I can.

But here’s the thing: that stuff should only ever be in service to the story. The story comes first. Because no amount of detail is going to make the readers care if they’re not involved in the scene, feeling for the characters, wondering what’s going to happen next.

The story is the hard bit – the main thing to focus on – it seems to me.

…Which brings me to my second question.

Slice Three of JETHRO’S ACE OF HEARTS, the thirteen-part story I’m currently serializing here on TBM, goes live for your delectation tomorrow (Friday) at 12 noon GMT.

My current plan is to have Slice Four go up this Monday, Slice Five go up next Friday, and so on. But a couple of my fellow prisoners (looking at you, David and Barry!) think I should go up to three episodes a week – posting on Wednesdays, too.

You, reading this: Hello! What do you think?

I think savouring the story slowly would be best – three slices a week might dominate the blog, and the story would finish very quickly. Or am I just being mean and stingy?

Leave a comment either way. I’m all ears.

…No, Bluggsvo Multilug, don’t get up: I was speaking metaphorically. No (sigh) I’m not really ‘all ears’: if you had eyes as well as ears you would be able see that. Of course I think you have ‘nice lobes’ but no, we’re absolutely not ‘destined to be together’. No: leave me alone! NO! Stop! The wax! THE WAGGLING! AAGHlp

A few weeks ago, on hearing the news that Sam was planning to serialise a short story on this blog (31st October 2009), I decided to ask him if I could have a go at illustrating it. You see, being primarily the illustrator of picture books, I don’t usually get the chance to tackle something with a bit more ‘bite.’ And if there’s one thing you need to know about Sam Enthoven’s writing – if you don’t already – is that it comes with just that.

And guess what? The man said ‘yes!’ Such faith!

Now, illustrating a story for an older readership, specifically fiction, is a different approach to a picture book. In a picture book, generally speaking, the aim of the illustrator is to produce a series of images that compliment the text rather than duplicate it. The words and pictures are being read simultaneously, hence the need for them to work together and not compete with each other. Of course this is true when illustrating fiction as well, but difference between the two is that, whilst a picture book illustrator is providing his or her vision of the story, the role of the illustrator of fiction, in my opinion, is to enhance the story through mood and atmosphere whilst at the same time allowing the text to breathe and allow the reader to imagine the authors details for him or herself. By it’s very nature a picture book author doesn’t spend much time describing a character, or the action, in detail. This is passed on to the illustrator whose job it is to tell his of her (additional), story with the pictures. An author of fiction will often spend some time describing a character in (hopefully), wonderfully lyrical prose. To illustrate the text too closely will render the text or the pictures redundant and, not unreasonably, quite possibly irritate the reader.

However, with all that said, I do tend to start a story in the same way!! That is to say, with some kind of storyboard. In this case, I produced a series of small thumbnails.

By starting off with a simple storyboard it helps me visualise all the illustrations at a glance. Here, I can judge the pace, the mood, the ebbs and flows of the text. My aim with this short story was to focus on the atmosphere and growing tension within the story. As I’ve already mentioned, Sam captured this brilliantly, so I was conscious not to crowd the words but try and add ‘flavour’ to this dark and disturbing story that is Jethro’s Ace of Hearts. I won’t go into the details of each image now because I don’t want to spoil the story. Perhaps I’ll come back this in a later post, once this ghastly tale has been told. I hope you enjoy it.

Look out for the first posting this weekend. Halloween…of course.

You may have noticed that I’ve not been around for a while.  You- You did notice, didn’t you?  I mean, I’d hate to think I just vanished from the site and no-one would even realise it…

Anyhoo – I’ve been suffering from SLIME FLU, which is the monsters’ version of swine flu.  It’s pretty much the same illness except, in addition to the high temperature, bad cough and aching muscles, the sufferer also develops temporary tentacles and grows a second nose to accommodate the extra sneezing.  Thankfully, I’m over it now and, aside from a short tail, there seem to be no lingering effects.

Whilst laid up in the monster hospital cave (DON’T annoy the nurse with the purple, suckered feet…), I wrote a short article which answers – in my case at least – one of the questions most asked of writers: how did you get published?  The piece was written for a website called How Publishing Really Works, although I wanted to share it here as well.

So, here’s how I did it.  If you’re interested, perhaps my fellow authors might consent to do the same and write their own stories (please note – contracting slime flu is optional to the process).

Tommy

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How I Got Published by Tommy Donbavand

One of the questions I’m asked most often (aside from ‘what are you doing in my garden?’) is how I got published.  What’s more interesting than the question itself, however, is the belief and/or hope that there is some sort of magic formula or shortcut that I have found and can give the questioner to stop them having to do it the hard way.

Guess what?  There is no magic formula.  You have to do it the hard way.

I started writing while still at school, eschewing the teenage norm of hanging out on street corners to sit at home and practice my art.  Thankfully, I hit the library (no Internet back then…) and knew enough about how books were made not to submit my first ever attempts (although I did send some sketches out to Spitting Image, Stephen Fry and Ben Elton, getting very kind ‘keep it up’ letters in return).

After college I made the obvious career move – and became a clown called Wobblebottom (no, really).  I worked first at holiday centres around the UK and later on cruise liners, entertaining children.

A few years later I joined the cast of a musical in London’s West End – Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story – and even that was down to one-part perseverance and two-parts metal balls.  I went to see the show with my parents, spotted a part I thought I’d be good at and wrote to the producer that night, claiming I would be a much better choice than the current guy.  That landed me the audition – but, when I got there, they asked me to read for a different role.  I knew I would only have this chance once in my life and so I stopped halfway through and told them they should let me audition for the character I wanted.  They did, I got the part, and stayed with the show for the next eight years.

While in Buddy, I continued writing and continued being rejected.  Neither agents nor publishers were interested in the fiction I had to offer.  So, I turned to the old phrase ‘write what you know’ and put together all the games and activities I’d created and developed during my work as a children’s entertainer.  I pitched the book far and wide and, soon after, Quick Fixes For Bored Kids was published by How To Books in the UK.

Three other books – More Quick Fixes For Bored Kids, Quick Fixes For Kids’ Parties and Boredom Busters – followed.  Before long I was running events in book shops and being interviewed on both local and national radio as an expert in keeping kids entertained.  It wasn’t what I wanted to write, but it was a foot in the door, nonetheless.

Then the door closed over my foot.

Buddy ended, I left London, and the events dried up.  The books weren’t selling very well at all – partly because parents who buy books telling them how to keep their kids from being bored don’t generally have the type of kids that get bored – and partly because the publisher insisted on classifying the books as ‘parenting’ titles, instead of ‘activities’.  I would often go into book shops and find my work far away from the children’s section, sandwiched instead between toilet training guides and books of baby names.

I worked for a few months on a computer tech support line, then auditioned for a role in a small-scale children’s show visiting schools over Christmas.  I did the tour, and stayed with the production company afterwards in order to write their next shows – for next to no money at all.  But hey, at least I was writing again.  I often found myself playing a part in show ‘A’ while writing show ‘B’.  It was exhausting.

I was still writing fiction in what little spare time I had, sending off my work to publishers and agents, and amassing an impressive collection of rejection letters in return.  Apparently, my four previous books (now rapidly dropping out of print) counted for nothing.  I was back on the outside, forcing my work into the bottom of the slush pile.

I began to teach writing to adults in the evenings and set up a web forum to enable people in the classes to stay in touch.  Before long, an established writer posted on the board saying that Egmont Press was looking for writers-for-hire for a new children’s horror series, but that only writers with published fiction to their name need apply.  It was steel balls time again…

I called the editor and convinced her to let me write a sample chapter.  I was successful and soon chosen as the first author for the Too Ghoul For School series, eventually writing five titles for the range.  I was paid a one-off fee for each book, and no royalties – and it wasn’t even my name on the cover – but it was published fiction, and a step in the right direction.

My school events continued apace and I soon spotted an ad looking for a new writer-in-residence at Seven Stories, the UK’s centre for children’s books, based in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne.  I applied and got the gig, ready to spend the next 12 months running workshops and writing exclusive material for visitors.

It was time to take a leap of faith so, in September 2006, on the day my son was born – I quit my job at the theatre company and became a full-time writer.  I started writing to agents again, pretty much to deaf ears until one of them suggested I contact Penny Holroyde at Caroline Sheldon Literary Agency.  I sent her my latest manuscript – a comedy space adventure for kids – and waited for her response.

Penny asked me to come to London for a meeting and explained that the book wasn’t what she was looking for, but asked if I was working on anything else.  I pitched an idea I had for a comedy horror series of my own and she liked it.  I signed with the agency and settled down to write what would become the first title in my Scream Street series.

I worked for almost six months on refining the manuscript and redrafting until it was in good enough shape to submit.  Penny’s notes were invaluable and, eventually, the series was picked up by Walker Books for publication in the UK from October 2008 onwards.

Now the hard work really began and, with my new editor Emma, I got stuck in to writing the series while doing as many school events as I could.  Part way into book three, I had an idea for a ’second’ Scream Street series and, whipping out the metal orbs again, I pitched it to Walker at their annual sales conference.  The six book series was now doubled to 12 instalments (later upped again to 13 so I could drop a longer ‘hinge’ book between the two sets of adventures).

My regular school visits paid off when I was approached by Reading Is Fundamental (part of the UK’s National Literacy Trust) and asked to become the first RIF Ambassador, attached to a primary school in Middlesbrough and charged with the task of getting the pupils into reading and writing.  It was a great experience – and the school even initiated the ‘Tommy Donbavand Writing Hero’ award!

In January this year, I contacted seven other UK children’s authors with the plan of setting up a joint website through which we could promote books and ’share’ readers.  The premise is that we were on our way to write the ultimate anthology of monster stories – when the monsters got to us first!  Now held captive in dark, damp caves, we’re made to blog about great kids books in return for food and toilet paper!  Trapped by Monsters can be found at http://www.trappedbymonsters.com

Scream Street began to sell to other countries around the world, including Australia, Italy, Sweden and Japan.  In August 2008, the series was launched in the US, published by Candlewick Press.

So, that’s where I am today.  I’m busy putting the final touches to the 10^th book in the Scream Street series, and have added events at literary festivals to those I still run in schools.  I’ve written two novels for Barrington Stoke, a publisher specialising in books for dyslexic and reluctant readers, and have just been asked for a third.  I’ve even been invited to the Houses of Parliament at the end of this month to discuss getting kids excited about reading.

I’m not sitting on my laurels, however.  I work hard at promoting my books online through websites, guest blog posts and Twitter – and the old steel balls are always polished and ready to use, should the need ever arise…

Anyone who has studied Physics at GCSE or above will probably be able to finish the the title of this post. Sir Isaac Newton formulated his 3 laws of motion some time around 1700 (I’m no historian) and these have been taught to physicists ever since. This third law of motion: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, is one I often quote in writing workshops. However, I must apologise to Sir Isaac, as I’ve sort of hijacked his law and adapted it into Mark Robson’s First Law of writing short fictional stories.

Mark Robson’s First Law goes like this:

For every description there must be a reaction.

If you apply this rule religiously, it will stop you waffling and keep you from falling into the most common trap that young writers fall into when starting a story – the dreaded “information dump”. Even the best descriptions can fall flat if they’re not relevant in a very personal way to your protagonist. Whenever you write, try to imagine you are the character.

As Barry said in a previous post, you can use the senses of the character to explore your environment, thus making the description a personal one that the reader can relate to. Sometimes, however, you do need to throw in a few straight facts. When you do this always ask yourself the question “How does my character feel about this?” If the answer is “Scared!” don’t just write: Jack felt scared. Think how you would physically feel if you were in Jack’s situation. How does it feel to be scared? Does your heart start to pound? Does your mouth go dry? Do you feel hot or cold? Do your hands start to shake? What would you be thinking? Show the reader something real and you will take the reader deeper into your world.

Here’s an example of a description that I wrote of a teacher for one of my short stories:

Everything about Miss Liverwort said ‘No nonsense’. Her voice was hard as concrete and her every movement was sharp and precise. She always wore her hair scraped back and wound into a tight bun on the back of her head, which made the rest of her face seem more angular and harsh. Her most deadly weapons, though, were her eyes. They were like lasers. I reckon she could drill a Year 4 kid at a hundred yards with them.

The description paints a fairly vivid picture, but then I add the reaction …

Right now she had one eyebrow raised at a sharp angle and a chill ran down my spine as her lasers wound up to full power.

Now the description has particular relevance to my main character. It’s become personal.