From a young age, writing seemed to fill my spare time. Using my imagination, creating new worlds and funny situations was far more enjoyable than most other things that children normally do. I was the child who always got told off for daydreaming in class. I wasn’t ‘present’ they used to say.
I used to read a lot too. Most children are disappointed when they get given books for Christmas; books are up there in the boring present pile with clothes and things you need, rather than things you want. However, books were one of my favourite things to have. From a young age I loved losing myself within the pages of a good book; a past time I still enjoy now.
Teen fiction is what I believe determines whether people will be ‘readers’ or not. By adolescence, you have reached the age where reading is no longer something you are made to do as a taught lesson, there are no grades and assessments; it’s purely for fun. Therefore, if you become captivated by a book during this time frame in your life, I believe for the rest of your life you are in search of another book that offers the same escapism and joy that you found in that one. Consequently gaining lifetime access to some sort of readers club.
During my teen years, Jacqueline Wilson was the one to captivate me within the pages of her books. Favourites included ‘Girls in Love,’ ‘Midnight’ and of course, ‘Tracey Beaker.’ Her style of writing was so unique, that as a reader, you knew whose books you were enjoying without having to look at the cover. I believe that is what makes a good writer. This is something that I aspired to do within my own writing and the more books I read, the more inspired I became.
I met Jacqueline Wilson when I was about fourteen. She was doing a book signing at my local ‘Waterstones’ and I was far too excited. I became obsessed with the idea that if I could get her to read some of my work, she would think it was that fantastic that she simply MUST publish it. The night before I sat up for hours frantically typing, trying to get as much of my handwritten book into a concise format as possible.
At school I was fidgety and irritable; desperate for the day to finish so I could begin my life dream. I queued for hours and hours and strangely I don’t remember moaning about being bored; though I’m sure my mom would tell it differently. I finally reached the front of the queue and met the woman that had inspired me to write teen fiction. I was awe struck to say the least. She signed my book and I handed over the first three chapters of my first full novel. I had safety clipped my address to the top of the page and she assured me she would read it as soon as possible. She thanked me for reading her books and said she was glad that I had found it to be such an inspiration.
I waited for weeks and weeks, everyday my hope for a reply decreasing. Until one day when a postcard was pushed through the door amongst all of the other post. In case you can’t read what it says (it took me a while!) it says “It was lovely to meet up with you. Thank you for letting me read your super story. I think it’s brilliant – so lovely and truthful about girls!”
I think that has got to be one of the proudest moments of my life. It didn’t matter to me that she would more than likely say it was good even if it wasn’t, just to spare the feelings of a fourteen year old fan. It was the fact that she had taken the time to read it and actually reply. This gave me further confidence and encouragement to continue writing and pursue my dreams.
Further inspiration came later on in my teen years when I began looking at the world differently. I didn’t just flick a switch and decide to actually pay attention; it was a subtle change in me that I didn’t realise was occurring. I immersed myself in the world around me and paid attention to minute things in life that were telling a story.
I began to enjoy another of my favourite past times on a regular basis with my mom; people watching. I was fascinated by other people and their actions and behaviour. I remember sitting in countless restaurants with my mom attempting to decipher the family’s story that were sat at the adjacent table. This alone was enough to inspire a whole story; or the basis of one at least. After that, I would just let my imagination take me where it pleased.
Today, my inspirations come from many different things in life. On occasion I struggle to find something inspiring and I struggle to write, but I know that if I put down my pen and take a walk, inspiration will find me. I believe that’s how it should be; don’t go looking for the inspiration, let it find you.
by Jade Secker
The Illustration Machine 