Friday 13th
When I realised I was due to give my first ever talk to a school reading group of about 20 11-year-olds on Friday 13th, I had a feeling of impending doom. I'm not particularly witty or glamorous, and only occasionally dotty (I think), so I felt they were bound to be disappointed. The last thing I wanted to do was create a bad impression of writers that would accompany them throughout their lives.
The only thing for it was to turn my ordinariness into an advantge, and use it to show them that anyone can write. Within minutes I was being asked a stream of questions by enthusiastic writers of the future. They wanted to know everything from how to get past writer's block and whether I showed my early work to my family to (inevitably) how many copies of Discord's Child I had sold.
It was great to see how keen they are. Anyone who thinks that print has had its day, and that reading is on its way out, should think again. I arrived for the talk feeling like a fraud, and left feeling like a star.
The only thing for it was to turn my ordinariness into an advantge, and use it to show them that anyone can write. Within minutes I was being asked a stream of questions by enthusiastic writers of the future. They wanted to know everything from how to get past writer's block and whether I showed my early work to my family to (inevitably) how many copies of Discord's Child I had sold.
It was great to see how keen they are. Anyone who thinks that print has had its day, and that reading is on its way out, should think again. I arrived for the talk feeling like a fraud, and left feeling like a star.
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