Here's The Entire Cover...

Wereling (US title for Changeling) Cover

Let me know what you think.

The Perfect Stocking Filler

Have a Zombie Christmas.

You can check out the rest of Sean Bieri's excellent Zombie Christmas at http://www.tor.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=comic&id=10642

(I like Day 9)

And now, the end is near... (sorry Frank)

I belong to an online writers' forum, and somebody recently started up a 'What have you achieved this year?' thread.

To say I've had a good year would be an understatement, but it was only when I sat back and thought about everything that has happened that I realised just what a great twelve months it has been:

I had the first two books in the Changeling series released, and the feedback I got from fans of the books was nothing short of fantastic.

I completed the third book in the series, Blood Wolf, which is now winging its way to the printers to be completed in time for a February release.

I signed a new three-book contract with Macmillan for the last two books in the Changeling series and the first book in my 'Secret Project'.

I was shortlisted for a very prestigious book award, and received some very good reviews.

I had my first book published in Germany.

I got to meet loads of students during my school visits, and had a great time at each and every school I visited.

Yep, 2009 was a good year.

Why you should never break your own golden rules.

I don't have many golden rules, particularly where writing is concerned. In fact, I'm not a lover of rules. But I do have a rule that I will not comment on other people's writing. It's not what I do. I'm not a reviewer or an editor. But for some reason people think that as a writer I am in a unique position to judge their own writing, and they ask me to do it.

Now as I say, I normally refuse. Politely. And I do this for good reasons:

a) I'm busy trying to write my own work. I know, its crazy, but that's what I am doing each and every day.

b) I am not qualified to judge someone's work. Yes, I do read a lot of books, but I read them for enjoyment. I don't sit around for days after reading a book to pick out the nuances of each and every paragraph, I simply consider if I enjoyed it or not.

c) Most people do not like criticism - even constructive criticism.

So when an acquaintance asked me to read her blog, I started my usual rambling excuse, "Er, well, I don't really do that. I'm really not the best person to ask, and I..."

"It won't take you a second. You don't have to read it all. Just a couple of posts."

"It's just that I'm really busy at the moment, and..."

"Just two or three posts. The latest ones. And I don't expect a huge written response, just a quick email to tell me what you think."

"Well..."

"Please?"

"Oh, OK."

I went home, berating myself for being such a spineless berk. I logged on to her blog and read all of the posts for that month. Then I emailed her.

It wasn't bad. It was a 'Diary Of A Manic Mum' kind of thing. I thought that some of it was well written, and the humour that she'd worked in was really good. There were a few bits that weren't thought out as well as they could have been, but on the whole it was pretty good. I pointed out that I thought she could have expanded on some of the characters, and told her that I thought she had an ear for dialogue.

I didn't see her for a few weeks, but when I next passed her in the street, she blanked me. I put it down to her being in a hurry, and forgot about it. When I saw her again, she did the same thing. She also blanked my wife when she saw her. After a month or two of this, I began to wonder if it could have been my comments about her work that had caused this coldness, so the next time I saw her, I asked her if everything was alright. She sniffed a bit, "Fine," she said, looking off over my shoulder. "Everything is fine."

Clearly it wasn't.

"Are you still blogging?" I asked as casually as I could.

"No."

"Oh? Why?"

"Well, it wasn't any good, was it?" she said this in a jokey voice, but there was a look in her eyes that suggested she would quite happily have filleted me like a fish, if a suitable knife were to hand.

"Oh, I thought it was fine. Better than fine, I thought it was quite good."

She snorted mirthlessly, and resumed studying whatever fascinating object it was she'd spotted over my shoulder.

"Well, I should go," I said. "Nice to see you again."

"Goodbye."

And that was that.

I got home in a furious mood. I swore a bit, kicked the cat (well, I would've if we had a cat) and told myself in no uncertain terms that I would never open myself up to that kind of thing again.

Because, as I said earlier in this blog, some people can't take criticism. Even constructive, well meant criticism.

So if you have written a book/blog/poem/novella/short/article/essay/strapline/shopping list DON'T ask me to read it and comment.

I have rules about that sort of thing.

Kids' Lit Quiz

Last Friday I was lucky enough to attend the Kids' Lit Quiz UK finals in Oxford. I'd already been part of the authors' team at the Central England heats, and I was pleased when they asked me along to the finals.

All of the schools which had won their heats were there, and the Great Hall in Oxford's Town Hall looked fabulous, decorated in purple, green and white (all very Wimbledon, I thought). I was amazed at the knowledge (and speed of reaction) of the students, who answered questions on a wide range of subjects, and I was particularly impressed with the 'First Line' round, where quizmaster, Wayne Mills, read the first line from a children's novel, stopping when the first team buzzed in to identify the title. Most of the time Wayne had hardly read more than five or six words when a loud buzz could be heard from one of the tables, followed by the correct answer being spoken into the microphone. Amazing.

Until recently I'd never heard of the Kids' Lit Quiz. And it would seem that I'm not alone. I was surprised to find out about the shocking lack of publicity for this event, and how even when the guest speaker was somebody as famous as the comedian, Harry Enfield, the local radio and television companies did not send a crew along to cover the final. I still can't quite understand this: we live in a time when people are constantly harping on about how difficult it is to get children to read. How enthusiasm for books is on the wane. How parents and teachers struggle to keep children interested in reading.

Here is an event which wholeheartedly embraces children's literature, and encourages students to show off their love of books. And yet it struggles to get marketing and promotion. Unbelievable.

I truly hope that this changes. I hope that the people who give up their time (it's run by volunteers, and is a non-profit making scheme) to set up this event can get the help they so very much deserve to take this wonderful idea on to the next level.

If your school does not already enter a team into the quiz, do so. Visit the website and get planning for next year's event. You'll be glad you did. The students I met had all had an amazing time, and were all excited to be involved, and as I said, they get a chance to show off their love of books - and that can only be a good thing.

I have to give a special mention to 'my team' (each author is allocated a team for the event): Wellington College of Belfast. They were in the lead at the half way stage, but narrowly missed out in the end. A really great bunch of children.

I also want to congratulate Wheatley Park for their victory. It was nice to see an all boys' team win the event (after all, boys don't read, do they?), especially as they came from behind to do so.

Yes, I like Curious George AND George Smiley. Bite me.

"Will I have heard of anything that you've done?"

"I doubt it. I write for a young adult audience."

"What's that when it's at home?"

"Teenagers and...young adults."

"Oh. Children's books."

"Yes."

There was a pause while she considered this, her lips pursing a little, making the bright red lipstick daubed upon them all the more prominent.

"Have you thought about writing for adults?"

There it was. That question.

Normally I just come back with a glib reply. Something along the lines of, "Oh, I don't think I could. That's a whole different kettle of fish, and I'm probably not clever enough." But she'd really pressed my button, this one.

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you assume that I want to write for adults?"

"Well, it's natural isn't it? I just thought that you'd move on to that."

"Because writing for adults is more difficult?"

"Yes. Well it is, isn't it?"

I took a deep breath, mumbled something under my breath, pretended to spot someone else across the room, and moved away from her. What I really wanted to do was to hit her around the head with the hors d'oeuvre tray that was making its way around the room, but I figured that that wouldn't go down too well at a christening party.

Ever since then I've been kicking myself for not being as rude to her as I would have been if I wasn't such a nice bloke. So I'm left fantasising over what I wished I'd said. My fantasy response goes a little like this:

"You know, there are a number of well respected people who consider writing for children to be harder than writing for adults. I'm not one of those people. I just think that writing ANYTHING - anything that's good, that is - is bloody hard work. I also think that good children's literature can be as appealing to adults as good adult fiction is to children. Treasure Island, Little Women, The Jungle Book, Oliver Twist, His Dark Materials, and yes, Harry Potter, are all examples of books which easily cross between the two groups and have a universal appeal. Why? Because they're good.

My books are marketed to children. I don't write them for children - not in a way where I consider who my target audience is and what they want - I just set out to write the best book that I can. Pace, narrative and well-rounded characters who the audience can empathise and identify with are all key to writing good children's fiction, but those things appeal just as much to an adult audience. Good is good, simple as.

Why don't I write adult books? Because adult books didn't choose me. I didn't get inspired to write for adults.

Do adults enjoy my books? Yes.

Would you, red-lipped harridan, enjoy my book? No.

Why? Because you've already made your mind up that you wouldn't."

THEN I would hit her over the head with the hors d'oeuvres.

So endeth today's rant.

I feel a bit better now.