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GWEN GRANT

WRITER

WELCOME

Author of PRIVATE KEEP OUT!
‘The funniest childrens’ book ever written’ -  Lucy Mangan in The Guardian

PRIVATE KEEP OUT! is being reissued in Spring 2019 as a
PENGUIN VINTAGE CHILDREN’S CLASSIC

Just republished in October 2018...
PUFFIN BOOK OF GHOSTS AND GHOULS
My story, ‘SPRING HEELED JACK’ is included in this anthology.

 

I also run a poetry blog at gwengrantpoems.com

Its a great privilege to be included in the list of Nottingham Unesco City of Literature Writers for Young Readers.

When I am asked how I came to be a writer, I have to say that I don't know because I seem always to have been writing stories, or poems, or plays,  and not all of them for children. For instance, the ‘100 stories for Haitia’ book below is for young adults and older readers and a lot of my  poetry is for young adults and older readers, too. The first stories I wrote were for BBC radio and they were for the same age range.

I didn’t begin writing for children until I wrote a picture book, MATTHEW AND HIS MAGIC KITE and then when my own two sons went to Comprehensive school, I wanted them to know what life was like when I was a child, so I wrote ‘PRIVATE-KEEP OUT’ which is partly based on my own life.

As a child, I used to tell my sister bedtime stories - not always a good thing for her because I kept killing off her favourite characters - and, sadly, when I was sent to an Open Air School, (my second book, Knock and Wait is about that time in my life), which was a bit like a hospital and a school combined and I was given the job of telling  stories to the girls there, I did the very same thing and got into  terrible trouble.

Writing and reading have always been two of the most important and necessary things in my life.

 I always tell others who want to write how great that is and how they should not only write on their own but also get together with other  people who feel the same and have fun whilst they develop as a writer.

MY LATEST BLOG POEM IS ....

11th November, was Armistice Day in this country and I put up a poem for that day.  The flower in this poem I saw en route to Scotland on a day thick with frost and the first flakes of snow falling.  As we waited at the side of the road to move on, I saw it, deep in a patch of woodland where every flower and leaf was fighting to survive.         

               ON THE EDGE OF WINTER

      On the edge of winter
      Where the pale-lit leaves
      All frail and flimsy
      Lift the trees above the sullen darkness,
      Leaving bare their winter branches,
      There, where burdock and spiteful bramble,
      No longer green but cold and seamed
      With bitter leaves
      Warm their feet in the dark earth,
      In the roots that wind and curl into the darkness
      Hard by the yellow matted grasses,
      The bleached and bone-white tussocks
      Dying, dying, all sad and weary. 

      There, on the edge of winter,
      Lying in the frosty sparkle,
      I saw the bold, bright petal of a winter flower
      Defeat the darkness
      With life and hope and love and passion.

                                       ©Gwen Grant

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