Why I Write for
Children...
When I was a teenager,
I wrote angsty poetry about love and death and poetry (I was very meta). I wore
baggy, black jumpers and Doc Martins. I thought of myself as a 1990s Sylvia Plath,
or Emily Dickinson. Like them, I wanted to write about our deepest, darkest
truths.
Many (many) years
later, I find myself wearing the full colour spectrum and writing for children.
How did that happen?
Surely, writing for
children is all about happy endings, about meeting your prince and eating
midnight feasts in castles? What happened to all that angst? All that yearning
for truth?
One answer is, I
realised my poetry was rubbish!
A fuller answer is that
I think writing for children is a good way to explore fundamental truths about
the things that matter. About family and friends, about love and loss and about
how to navigate the world. There’s a hopefulness to that exploration that I
admire. But more than that, children have a low tolerance for waffle and
obfuscation. This means that, if you write for children, you are forced to be
honest. If you aren’t, they will stop reading. You have to be engaging. You
can’t write long, flowery descriptions just for the sake of it. If you do, they
will stop reading. You have to have integrity. If you try to push an agenda, or
teach a lesson, or enthuse about something that you don’t actually care about,
they will see it coming a mile off...and stop reading. They’re a tough crowd!
With my first novel How Kirsty Jenkins Stole the Elephant I
wrote about how important it is to keep promises; the way families will stand
by each other, and how to get what you want by mammoth mammal rustling. In Operation Eiffel Tower I wanted to tell
the truth about how family break-ups feel: sadness, anger, but also a certain
kind of relief. I also wanted to make readers laugh, even if they’re doing it
through tears. I wanted to be honest and engaging, with a little dollop of
integrity.
I write for children
because they are the best audience to have. They will listen, dream, imagine,
wonder. But, if you put a foot wrong, they’ll stop reading in an instant
Teenage me would have
been too terrified to write for such brilliant readers.
Adult me is delighted
to have found them. Though I’d still like a pair of cherry red Docs.
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