Author of PRIVATE KEEP OUT!
‘The funniest childrens’ book ever written’ -
Lucy Mangan in The Guardian
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.
Its a great privilege to be included in the list of Nottingham Unesco City of Literature Writers for Young Readers.
Just republished ...
PUFFIN BOOK OF GHOSTS AND GHOULS
My story, ‘SPRING HEELED JACK’ is included in this anthology.
I have a poetry blog at gwengrantpoems.com
A POEM FROM MY POETRY BLOG ....
last update 14/06/2019
PRIVATE- KEEP OUT!
now published by
PENGUIN VINTAGE CHILDREN’S CLASSIC
LET IT GO
It isn’t only the immediate pain,
It is the acquired pain
That troubles and torments the pockets of the mind
With its terrible, unending energy,
Of memories that hurt and burn, scald and bite,
Feeding on our disasters,
Growing fat and greedy on our cataclysmic tragedies.
At least, this is what we think
As we survey the wreckage behind us
And the very uncertain structure that lies ahead,
Of a life that has somehow accommodated
A train crash of gargantuan proportions,
Or, maybe, to others, a bump of Lilliputian dimensions
Blown up like a balloon.
Until that fretful thinker suddenly says,
‘Ah, sod it,’ and finally lets the whole of it float away,
To leave behind a nice, clean life sheet to scribble on.
Oh, what joy to start again.
To forgive as many times as we need to.
©2019 Gwen Grant