Children (and aliens) are the future

"Valley Press rocks!" edition

I’m writing today mostly to update you on the progress of The Late Crew, but first I must follow up on the somewhat self-deprecating anecdote I started last week’s post with, about a Valley Press poet coincidentally visiting my son’s school.

The children I spoke to were extremely inspired by “Poetry Week”, with the feedback being “I wish the poet came every day!” and – with most of them having got hold of her book – comparing their progress through it as you might describe levels in a video game. (“What poem are you up to?” “The one about teeth!”) It was marvellous to see, and should give anyone professionally involved with poetry hope for the future.

What’s more, it seems my 7-year-old found the words to do what I couldn’t, regaling a group of classmates with the facts on his Dad’s job and involvement with the book, ultimately being asked to share with the whole room. (The only part of this speech I have been able to unearth so far is: “his bedroom looks like a library!”)

By the end of the day, he was so pumped up by the concept (or perhaps just people’s reactions to it), that he came out of the door brandishing the piece of paper below. At that time I wasn’t aware of any of the preceding discussion, so I was completely stunned – “What’s this??” I gasped. “It’s a celebration,” he exclaimed, “of you!” My jaw dropped so far it was practically in Australia.

(My son would like you to know that it was meant to have more rainbows, but he hadn’t had time to complete them before the bell.)

To be honest, this couldn’t have come at a better time, as I’d spent the week up to that point: a) working on five versions of a freelance cover design, all rejected by the client, b) responding to various organisations who couldn’t get hold of books they should have, due to distribution problems, and c) having our latest contract scrutinised within an inch of its life by the Society of Authors – all of which had the spectre of “imposter syndrome” hanging over my desk like a black cloud. Now, I’ve got that poster hanging up there instead … and I’m ready to rock.

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Onto The Late Crew, then, and for those who didn’t catch the post in January introducing them, they are a group of young carers who regularly cross paths with alien beings; the stars of two phenomenal books by Rab Ferguson. Their second adventure, The Late Crew and the Copy Cat Creature, was a winner from my 2023 submissions window, and I also snapped up the rights to the first story, newly available after the closure of its original publisher.

I then set up a crowdfunding / pre-order campaign for both books (our first ever attempt at such), aiming to raise £1,500 to offset the costs of production and printing, and eventually compete on price with the goliaths of children’s publishing. It’s going quite well so far, sitting at £606 at time of writing, so here’s a thank you to all blog readers who have chipped in – and a gentle nudge for anyone with 8-12 year olds in their life to take a look.

I was keen to share an update on The Late Crew today as it’s Young Carers Action Day, an annual event that takes place in mid-March, providing a nudge to “take action” to support, and raise awareness of, young carers. This is my contribution, I suppose! You can find out more about the day on carers.org, and even better, read Rab Ferguson’s article ‘Why everyone should know the language around young carers’ for the Reader’s Digest. In the article, we learn there are an estimated one million young carers in the UK alone, which leads Rab to ponder:

…why so many carers’ charities I’ve worked with have told me the same story, of reaching out to a school offering support, and hearing back, “Oh, we don’t have any young carers here.” The statistical unlikeliness of this is staggering. Of course, the next part of the story is often: and then after we worked with the school, they realised several pupils were young carers.

The Late Crew, then, is not only a thrilling and entertaining read, but also doing valuable work raising awareness of young carers and everything they contribute to society (on Earth, and beyond…)

Like the poet whose visit triggered the “Valley Press rocks!” poster, Rab also had a school tour booked for last week. Happily, with the editing of book two and some of the illustrations completed, I was able – after the publishing equivalent of a 1,000-metre sprint – to provide a box of “preview” copies for him to take in. Here are some young carers, and Rab, getting their hands on the book four months before anyone else:

(That Imprint Digital box will be a familiar sight to many small publishers; there’s never less than four of those in my bedroom “library”. There’s no better printer when you’ve a time-sensitive project to deliver.)

I’ll wrap up today with a couple of chapters from The Late Crew and the Copy Cat Creature, and another exclusive illustration by the exceptional Valeriia Proskurina. If you’re impressed, here’s a last reminder to check out the crowdfunding page – and as always, thank you for reading. I’ll be back in your inboxes soon.

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‘Everything’s More Inspiring When There’s a Picture of a Mountain’

Alisha knocked on Miss Penn’s door. She had a new office this term, after her old one nearly collapsed with Alisha and the rest of The Late Crew inside. That had been the beginning of their alien adventures.

‘Come in,’ said the prim voice inside. Alisha opened the door and saw the Head of Year sitting at her desk. There was a poster of a mountain behind her, with ‘Climb as high as you can dream’ written in the sky. It was meant to be motivational, but Alisha thought it didn’t really make sense.

‘Hi, Alisha. Why don’t you take a seat?’

Alisha sat down opposite her. The Head of Year was stiff and serious. Her neat blonde hair was tucked into a bun, and she wore a black blazer over her white shirt. Alisha couldn’t imagine Miss Penn dancing around, pulling faces and being silly, like Mum.

‘How are you doing today, Alisha?’

I’d pay a million pounds to stop everyone asking me that, thought Alisha. Actually, if I had a million pounds, I’d buy an island for me and Mum to live on. Then I wouldn’t need to worry about school and people asking annoying questions.

‘I’m good, thanks,’ said Alisha instead. Telling Miss Penn what she’d do with a million pounds probably wouldn’t seem very perfectly proper.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Miss Penn offered.

‘Er, no thanks.’

Alisha was taken aback. She’d been in Miss Penn’s office loads of times before and had never been offered a drink. To be fair, she was usually there because she’d been told off. The Head of Year probably didn’t want to reward bad behaviour with cups of tea.

‘So, why do you think I wanted to talk to you today?’ Miss Penn’s voice was sweeter than usual. It was like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t the same person that told Alisha off most days for wearing jewellery in school.

‘Because teachers have said they’ve missed my quick-witted sense of humour in lessons?’ suggested Alisha.

Miss Penn actually laughed. ‘Well, sort of. We’ve noticed you’ve not been quite yourself recently.’

‘I used to get in trouble for making too many jokes,’ pointed out Alisha.

‘We do look out for changes in your mood, but that’s only one part of it. A few teachers have mentioned you’ve been very tired. Mrs Birk said you were falling asleep in English.’

Alisha gulped. She sat at the back of the class in English. The other day she had struggled to keep her eyes open after a Bad Night with Mum. She thought no one had noticed.

‘It’s not my fault Mrs Birk’s teaching puts me to sleep,’ said Alisha, trying to be funny again. But her voice wobbled, and she knew she didn’t sound as confident as before.

This time Miss Penn didn’t smile. ‘Have you been getting enough sleep, Alisha?’

She didn’t want to tell Miss Penn why she’d been staying up late. Then they’d definitely describe her as having a difficult time. They’d probably even say she had problems at home.

‘I get plenty of sleep,’ Alisha lied. ‘So does my cat. He’d sleep all day, if he could.’

‘Hmm,’ said Miss Penn, as if she didn’t believe her. ‘Can you think of any reason you’ve been so tired?’

Miss Penn had started the conversation as if she was trying to be nice. Now it felt like an interrogation!

‘Well, I’m almost a teenager.’ Alisha shrugged. ‘Maybe hormones?’

Alisha had never one hundred percent understood what hormones were but teenagers seemed to blame them for everything, so it was worth a try!

‘We want to make sure you’re OK, and awake enough to learn,’ pressed on Miss Penn.

Alisha thought awake enough to learn was probably the Head of Year’s priority!

‘I’ll try my best to be my usual energised self,’ said Alisha, attempting to sound sincere. She hoped that would be the end of it, and she could leave.

‘We want to make sure you have all the help you need, at home and at school.’ Miss Penn handed Alisha a folded piece of paper. ‘This is an invitation for you and your mum to come in after school next week for a meeting about how best to support you.’

Alisha put the note into her bag. Miss Penn said they were invited, like being invited to a party, but this felt more like an order. Miss Penn would ask about Alisha being tired, and Mum would have to explain all about her Bad Nights. It’d make Mum feel guilty and awful about her Letters, and the school would never treat Alisha normally again.

This was even worse than when it was just a chat. Now, she had an official after-school meeting with Miss Penn, with Mum there too. She needed a plan to get out of it, and fast!

*

Alisha and Mum’s flat had a blue door, which opened on to stairs. They lived above an old man – so it was like one house split into a bottom and a top. When she arrived home, she was surprised to see Hugo sitting in front of their blue door.

That was strange. Mum would be at work at the shop, and because they didn’t have a cat flap, they normally only let Hugo out if they’d be around to let him back in. For a moment, Alisha thought it must be a different cat.

But no, as she got closer, she saw it was definitely Hugo. He had that white patch under his whiskers, and the other one on his neck. He meowed as she approached, like he’d been waiting for her to open the door.

‘What are you doing out here?’ questioned Alisha, scratching behind his ears. She unlocked the door, and Hugo climbed the stairs with her. There was no sign of Mum – she was definitely at work.

Then something even stranger happened. As they reached the top of the stairs, she heard a meow from the kitchen. Wait, what!? she thought. There’s already a cat inside?

Out from the kitchen trotted… Hugo?? There were two Hugos!

The two identical cats froze as they spotted each other. Their fur stood on end, and their tails went big and puffy. They were exactly the same, as if Hugo was looking at himself in the mirror.

Then Alisha realised. It was as if Hugo was looking at himself in the mirror. The cat who’d come in with her was the mirror image of her own cat. The white patch under his whiskers, and the one on his neck, were on the left rather than the right. Just like a reflection!

Hugo hisssssed, then leapt forward at the copy-cat. The copy-cat ran, fleeing down towards the door, closely followed by the real Hugo. They clattered, screeched and yowled down the stairs.

Alisha chased after them. At the bottom, she found the front door was somehow open once again! There was a weird metal smell in the air too. The original Hugo (his white patches on the right) stood, hair-raised and still hissing loudly. But the copy-cat was nowhere to be seen.

‘Well,’ Alisha said to the real Hugo, stunned. ‘At least I’ve finally got something strange to tell The Late Crew about.’

To be continued, summer 2024…