On the 19^th of February I was lucky enough to attend an Audience with Holly Black hosted by Waterstones Norwich. Holly Black is the author of many popular and fantastic novels: The Spiderwick Chronicles, The Magisterium series and The Good Neighbours series (to name a few)! During the course of the evening Holly discussed her latest novel The Cruel Prince with Alwyn Hamilton, author of Rebel of the Sands. It was incredible to meet these two powerhouses of YA fiction.

 

 

 

 

 

The Cruel Prince is the first book in a new series that tells the story of a mortal girl caught up in a web of royal faerie intrigue. The Rebel of the Sands tells the story of Amani who escapes her confining home into a world of escape, danger and romance.

The event was fascinating. In particular I enjoyed listening to the authors talking about the creative process and how they edit their work. Alwyn Hamilton talked about how she visualises “pillars” when planning her book. These “pillars” are the core ideas around which she builds her story. Holly Black gave a really interesting insight into the process of collaboration. She has worked with authors and illustrators including Cassandra Clare and Tony DiTerlizzi. She also talked about the process of working with an editor. It was really interesting to learn about the creative journey behind the books that we love so much.

Both authors talked in depth about the worlds they have created. Holly Black particularly talked about how it was important to make characters in fantasy novels realistic and believable so that we the reader believe the world in which they live. Holly Black also gave us an insight into the faerie world she has created. I think one of the reasons Black and Hamilton are popular as writers is because of their richly imagined books. By reading their books you explore intricate worlds. It was really surprising to learn about how in depth Holly’s research for the book was. It was so inspiring to hear about both women’s journeys as a writers.

I loved the setup of the event with Alwyn Hamilton interviewing Holly Black. It worked really well as we learnt about the differences in their approaches to their work. The questions asked by Alwyn Hamilton were very insightful.

I really loved attending the event as fantasy is a genre I read less compared to others. Hearing both authors speak has really kick-started my interest in the genre. One of the areas in which the event worked well was that it was open to both established fans but also new readers.

A bonus part of the event was exclusive merchandise given to the audience.Overall it was a brilliant night and my thanks to Waterstones for organising it. I would definitely recommend reading the work of Alwyn Hamilton and Holly Black: two powerful writers whose bold work is revolutionising YA fiction.

 

 

On Tuesday 27^th March, the school Creative Writing Community Ambassadors were selling cupcakes, playing book related games, held a raffle and a book character cupcake competition in the library at lunchtime. We also sold some second-hand books. There were some amazing cakes really well decorated. The winner of the cupcake completion was Cerys in 7B and second place was Robyn in 7C. The most popular game was the raffle. I helped out with the selling of the cakes. It was really fun helping out and getting everything ready for people to buy and win things. Ellie 7S

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had the ‘Re-scheduled’ World Book Day fair in the library yesterday; the money we raised went to the St Martin’s Homeless charity, in Norwich. We did a lot of activities to raise the money; a second-hand book stall, a raffle, a cake sale, a guess the teachers favourite picture book competition, a Harry Potter missing wand game and a guess how much sweets is in the jar competition. We raised over £100 – a lot of money and we are very proud. Thank you to everyone who came to our fair and donated cakes.  Maisie 7S

 

Our World Book Day Fair, postponed because of the snow, will now be held on Tuesday 27th March!

Take part in our design a cupcake in the theme of a book or Easter character and win a £15  Amazon voucher.

 

Gargantuan creature,

Ruler of the jungle.

A muscular orange body,

Patrolling the forest floor.

Dinner plate paws,

Shuddering tropical surroundings,

Shivering, shaking with each step.

Agile ears,

Detecting every minute movement,

With a fading hope,

Of its next meal.

Curious amber eyes,

Scan the canopy of green above.

A silhouette of a hunter,

His visage dark and reckless.

Barrel pointing menacingly,

Between its panic-stricken eyes.

Blackness…

Like a candle,

Senselessly snuffed out.

 

I the hunter run, feet dragging through the thick, damp carpet of leaves. A stench of sweat and blood hangs in the air. They are after me, the cries of excitement filling my ears. The howls of the dogs swirl through the dark forest. Trees reach out, claws dragging into my skin and hands. Falling, the rock hard floor reaching up to grab me. The iron tang of blood fills my mouth. I lie, suffocated by the canopy of those dark figures. The pitter-patter of feet grows louder and louder. I scream silently, hands tearing at my ears. They are all around me. Glowing eyes that stare forth from crumpled darkness. Hands that seem to grab at me from all directions, ripping me to shreds. The forest is alive, groaning winds dancing through the trees. I am alone, the only witness the pale orb of the moon that stares impassively down on me. I crawl along the floor, tears blurring my eyes. Flickers of light dancing through my eyes. I sense them, their lust, their craving. A silent scream rips me apart.

The hunter’s eyes open. The sun shines weakly on him. He lies, feeling the pale rays on him. The floor beneath him is wet and cold. He is alone. Standing, his red t-shirt a flash of colour in the winter forest. Only then does he see the stag, framed by the frail sunlight. Lying, scrawny legs splayed. The hunter watches, mesmerised by the rising and falling of its chest. The stag’s fur is dusty, stained with rusty red streaks. Antlers like spindly twigs. This is the worst part, thinks the hunter. The brief moment between life and death, seeing the shell, the shadow. The stag lifts it once regal head. Marred by the unmistakable gunshot wound. Its eyes are dilated and fear rushes through them. The hunter stops and shivers.

I am lying on the floor. A roar tears through the forest. I lift my head weakly, choking down the sobs that fill me. A shaft of moonlight pierces the night sky. Then I see it. The stag. Deep brown fur that glistened. Strong intricate antlers that rise towards the sky. It walks gracefully towards me. For a brief second I catch its eyes. Golden, they hold me with derision. Slowly it rises, dwarfing me. I stare at its hooves watching them fall towards me. I am frozen. The pain rips through me…

The hunter winces, and his calloused hands touch his head. He shakes his head, dismissing his thoughts to a dark place. He turns and shoulders his black gun. He glances at the deer, then disappears into the desolate forest.

The deer hears the hollow bang of the gun a few minutes later. No-one hears its shallow, desperate last breath.