How it all began
Ibby Brown
I studied English Literature and Creative Writing at Lancaster University. I loved my degree. To be sat in a lecture theatre whilst a highly eccentric, immensely entertaining and certainly “unconventional” lecturer paced the stage extolling the endless virtues of Shakespeare or Carol Ann Duffy or William Blake was absolute Heaven and I would soak up every single word.
For the Creative Writing element, we were required to submit our attempts at writing to a small group of peers (and our tutor – a published author) who would then read and critique them. Imagine the sheer terror as a group of strangers sampled your work, assessing the flavour, texture and assimilation of each word not dissimilar to a Masterchef judge ….. at least this wasn’t televised!
The pain of a negative (“constructive”) critique was heart-breaking. You’d shaped, crafted, polished each word, toying with exactly where to place it in order to transport your reader somewhere only you had been. For someone to say it “didn’t work”, hurt. A lot. But the thrill of a positive critique was exhilarating. I’d leave each session with a jangle of knots in my stomach, bursting to write my next piece. I’d avoid eye contact with every passing soul, determined not to lose focus or get distracted so that the words wouldn’t tumble out my head before I could get them down on paper. This still happens. Sometimes the thread of an idea or an opening sentence will come to me and I’ve been known to frantically scribble on the back of a crumpled receipt just so I don’t lose it.
After graduating with a first class degree, I immersed myself in the intense, stressful and wonderful world of Secondary Education, teaching English Language and Literature. I LOVED it! My students were everything to me and we would rap poetry, analyse song lyrics and untangle the ripe language of restaurant menus.
We even made Glücksschwein!
After ten years in the wonderful world of education, my eldest daughter Niamh burst into the world and from the intensity of Macbeth and the heartache of Blood Brothers, I was now thrown into the world of children’s picture books. Quite the transition. Perhaps not as violent as Macbeth, although Humpty Dumpty meets a pretty disastrous end!
The joy and sometimes despair of reading to her really inspired me. I immersed myself in all of her books, examining every detail. What was it about this particular story that made it so successful? Why did I feel so disappointed by the ending of that one? Could this one be any more predictable? No doubt that one would help us all fall asleep! I took inspiration from Julia Donaldson’s rhyming and set to work drafting, shaping, crafting, re-drafting until I felt happy with my creation. Poor Niamh has sat through so many performances, she knows every single word off by heart, but is certainly not shy when it comes to telling me what doesn’t work! I think my University critiques were easier to stomach! The next mission…finding an illustrator! This has been tremendous fun and I am immensely grateful to my illustrators for bringing all my stories to life.
Happy reading!
