We are pleased to welcome Susan Brownrigg to the blog.  Susan grew up in Wigan and lives in Skelmersdale.  She works as a museum learning and community manager Susan is a SCBWI British Isles 2016 Undiscovered Voices competition winner.  Susan discusses the research that she undertook when working on her debut novel Gracie Fairshaw and the Mysterious Guest.

When I decided to write a book set in the North, there was only ever one option! Blackpool!  I love Blackpool – and I’m not alone! 18 million people visit every year, making it Britain’s favourite seaside resort.  If you grew up in the North West, as I did, then chances are – like me - you have many happy memories of this magical town. It is a place of wonder, full of colour and light. A place for fun and family.

When I was a child (back in the 1980s) I loved visiting the iconic Blackpool Tower – especially the aquarium and circus, building sandcastles on the beach, riding on the heritage tram through the Illuminations and going on the rides at the Pleasure Beach – especially the Noah’s Ark, Ghost Train, River Caves and Hiram Maxim Flying Machines.

What I didn’t know then, was that those experiences were the same ones experienced by children in 1935 (when Gracie is set). While the rest of the country was struggling through the Great Depression, people were still flocking to Blackpool, just as they had for the traditional Wakes Weeks.

It was only when I came to write Gracie Fairshaw and the Mysterious Guest that I realised how fortunate and unusual it is that Blackpool’s seaside heritage has survived. So many other resorts have lost their pier (Blackpool has three!), their Winter Gardens and their vintage funfairs.

I love research, it helps me connect better to the setting of my books, prompts unexpected turns in my plots and influences my characters. Before Gracie, my books were all set overseas and trips to Madagascar, Peru and Cambodia were unaffordable, so I used books, National Geographic, TV documentaries, Youtube, Flickr, Pinterest, Google Earth and blogs to explore their histories and environments.

My new setting, Blackpool, is only an hour’s drive away. Now I could physically follow in my character’s footsteps. I could experience what she experiences.

My senses went into overdrive!

I stepped into the Blackpool Tower Ballroom and felt the thrill of hearing the Wurlitzer organ. I bravely gritted my teeth and screamed my way along the undulating rollercoaster track of the Grand National. I ate delicious freshly fried chips with salt and vinegar in the drizzle and sweet, sticky pink rock.

I learned all about trams from experts on a guided tour of the heritage tram depot, with the smell of hot oil all around. Then rode a beautiful cream and green 1930s balloon tram that gently rattled along the prom.

I had so much fun!

Of course, reading still played an important part in my research. My book is centred around the weekend of the 1935 Illuminations Switch-On. That year, Audrey Mosson, a 15-year-old Blackpool girl, who had recently been crowned Railway Queen was invited to perform the ceremony, but my many Blackpool books barely made mention of the event.

Fortunately, Blackpool’s Heritage Centre (based in Central Library) has a fantastic archive. After guidance from the helpful, friendly staff, I was able to view original Blackpool Gazette newspapers on a microfiche reader.  This proved to be a treasure trove, with not only full news coverage of the Switch-On but also lots of advertisements and more general features that gave me a real feel for the period. I was also able to fact-check, find out what the weather was like (rainy) and quote Audrey’s speech at the Switch-On which I hope has given my book verisimilitude. And an unexpected discovery was finding that the Gazette used to have a children’s page – which prompted the creation of the League of the Shining Star club in my book.

I was also chuffed to discover that a temporary exhibition From Loom to Limelight was taking place at Leeds Industrial Museum. The focus was on Queens of Industry – cotton, railways and coal – and Audrey Mosson’s gown, chain of office and tiara were to be displayed. The photographs I had seen of Audrey were in black and white but now I could see that her outfit was a rich blue with gold tassels. It was a very emotional moment, seeing the clothing she had worn that special day. A vivid link to the past.

Having got to know Blackpool so much more during my research, I was keen to team up with the town’s art, heritage and literacy community. So I was thrilled when my publishers (Uclan Publishing) suggested I team up with Get Blackpool Reading for my book’s launch.

Get Blackpool Reading is a community-driven campaign led by the Literacy Trust in partnership with Blackpool Council and Blackpool Opportunity Area. The project works with local partners, schools and businesses to promote reading for pleasure among children and families.

I was invited to create a Detective Trail for families using the GBR facebook page. This was a series of three videos, each focusing on a different part of Blackpool.

I filmed the challenges early one morning near to the Tower, the Town Hall (where the 1935 Switch-On took place) and the North Shore Cliffs where the climax of Gracie takes place. Each briefly explored the history of the location, its connection to my book and I invited children watching to complete an activity.

For publication day I took part in a Q&A interview hosted by Jill Connolly (Project Manager, Blackpool Family Literacy). The questions were all sent in by Blackpool school children and I loved answering them.

You can find out more about Get Blackpool Reading at https://literacytrust.org.uk/communities/blackpool/ and on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/getblackpoolreading/

Gracie Fairshaw and the Mysterious Guest is published by Uclan Publishing.

ENDS

Images

Susan Brownrigg in the Blackpool Tower Ballroom

Susan Brownrigg in the Heritage Tram depot, Blackpool

Susan Brownrigg with Audrey Mosson’s gown, Leeds Industrial Museum

Susan Brownrigg as a child in Blackpool

Susan Brownrigg with her debut book Gracie Fairshaw and the Mysterious Guest.

Book in bucket

Chips

There is always something exciting about encountering a new talent, a voice that has something fresh to say and a new style through which to convey this.  We are delighted to welcome Soojin Kwak to the blog.  Soojin has a degree in illustration from Kingston University in Surrey.  Her first picturebook A Hat for Mr Mountain was published by Two Hoots and in 2019 Soojin won the Bologna Book Fair Silent Book Prize for her silent picture book Starbuilders.  Soojin lives in South Korea but enjoys spending time in the United Kingdom.

When did you realise you wanted to be an illustrator and can you tell us a little about your training?

What kind of books did you enjoy as a child and why?

There are some wonderful comments on creativity, kindness and belonging as part of a community in A Hat for Mr Mountain, what do you hope readers will come away feeling?

Can you describe your creative process in writing and illustrating the book?

You came second in the Macmillan Prize for Illustration.  How important are prizes like this in giving a platform to new illustrators and what effect did this have on you?

You won the Bologna Book Prize for Silent picture books, are there any techniques that are needed to tell a wordless stories and ways to help ensure the pictures carry the story?

Have you noticed any differences in terms of prevalent styles or attitudes towards illustration in the UK and South Korea?

What's next for you?

We are living in a unique period of British – World even – history. For the first time on record, schools, pubs, shops and businesses have all closed for months and we are all being forced to change the way we live our lives. As we spend almost all of our time at home, living life at a significantly slower pace, we would like to know: how has lockdown changed our reading habits?

We came up with a series of questions, about reading habits in lockdown, and sent them out to staff and our wider school family of students, parents and friends, via email and Twitter. The results were sometimes as expected, sometimes surprising but always fascinating:

Lockdown has affected many people’s reading habits so we asked if people had been reading more and from our survey, we found that 62.5% of people surveyed said yes, they were reading more during lockdown and 37.5% said no they were not reading more. Out of that 37.5% of people 18.75% said they were reading the same amount as they were prior to lockdown. We found 18.75% of the people surveyed said that they read before bed to help them sleep. Out of the people that said they read more during lockdown 37.5% doubled their normal reading time.

Lockdown has changed everybody’s lives: although these changes seem negative, one huge plus is that there is more time to enjoy activities you wouldn’t usually have time for.  Now people have time to read, it’s interesting to look at how different people like to enjoy a good story.  Although only one in 13 people asked have been using audio books, 23.1% have used Borrow Box to access free books. Borrow Box is an online library service that allows users to borrow books on their Kindles and other e-readers.

We were also interested in finding out how people’s reading habits have changed during lockdown, the results from our survey showed 64% felt their reading habits had changed with 43% reading significantly more. Many people have been reading different genres for example: “I’ve read non-fiction for pleasure for the first time in years,” said one person who was surveyed, another response was “I’m finding more time to read during the day and not just before bed. I’m also making time for more academic reading for work.”  We were intrigued  to find out that 28.5% of people surveyed stated that they were reading online (i.e. Twitter, Audiobooks or online articles/sites).

When we asked the public if they had been experimenting with different genres during the lockdown period, we got a very mixed response.  The majority of people said that they’d stuck to their usual styles of reading, but 38.5% informed us that they had indeed tried different genres. One person said that they find comfort in reading historical fiction to escape this confusing time, and two people have indulged in biographies. Another respondent told us that they’d started listening to audio books as a family, helping little ones to develop a love for reading.   

The final question which we asked about changing reading habits was about the style of books we choose to read, which can change depending on the circumstances at the time. So, we asked which books people would recommend whilst in lockdown. These were some of the answers we got: Many people recommended exciting and thrilling books such as The Hobbit by J. R. R Tolkien, Shadowsmith, The Nowhere Emporium and The Elsewhere Emporium, all of which are by Ross Mackenzie, and The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. Whereas, some people decided to choose books that would make them laugh, such as the Thursday Next novels by Jasper Fforde and the St Mary’s series by Jodi Taylor.  People choose these books as a means of ‘escape’ from the news of the current pandemic, which can be depressing. However, a few people decided to read books that seemed relevant to the situation or to help them cope with what is going on around us. Some of these books include La Peste by Albert Camus, Calm by Fearne Cotton and The Boy at the Back of the Class by Onjali Q Rauf.

At this time, I personally recommend reading books that are part of a big series like Harry Potter by J.K Rowling or The Darren Shan Saga by Darren Shan because I feel you will never get bored with these books.

One thing that has come out of our research is very interesting and nice to know: when we face difficult and trying times, more of us that ever, turn to books to help us to get through them.

With grateful thanks to Isabel and Lewis Y7 and Ella Y8 from  Millfield Science and Performing Arts College, Thornton Cleveleys for writing and researching this blog.  Grateful thanks too to Mel Bleakley for her support.

A M Dassu is a writer and magistrate based in the heart of England.  She is the Deputy Editor of SCBWI-BI's Words and Pictures magazine and is a Director of Inclusive Minds.  A. M. Dasu won the international We Need Diverse Books mentorship award in 2017.  She has used her publisihing advances for Boy Everywhere to assist Syrian refugees in her city and has set up a grant to support an unpublished refugees/recently immigrated writer.  Am Dassu can be followed on Twitter @a_reflective  or through her website.  We are delighted to welcome A M Dassu to the blog and are excited to be able to feature a preview of chapter one from Boy Everywhere which publishes in October.

Refugee week was founded in 1998 to encourage an understanding of why people seek safety and to celebrate the contributions of refugees. Unfortunately, over two decades later, xenophobia is still rife and the arrival of refugees and immigrants to this country is still questioned and frequently opposed.

The theme for this year’s Refugee Week is to Imagine and this is exactly what I did five years ago when I first began writing BOY, EVERYWHERE.

In 2015, I put myself in the shoes of a thirteen-year-old boy who lived a happy, normal life; who made plans with friends, had the potential to play for the school football team, an iPad, a PlayStation, a great school, weekends at the mall to look forward to, and I imagined what it would feel like to lose it all.

BOY, EVERYWHERE, was inspired by a news interview that showed refugees in muddy camps wearing Nike trainers and holding smartphones, and talking about what they’d left behind. Looking around my comfortable living room, I realised how similar their lives were to ours in the West and how easily a civil war could bring the same fate upon any of us. I had been supporting refugees by setting up fundraising campaigns to provide food and aid for many years but I knew this wasn’t enough. I wanted to do something long-lasting by sharing their incredible achievements, culture and backgrounds. So I started writing a story about a boy who once had everything.

I have been honoured to spend time with some of the most amazing people, who had been left with no choice but to leave Syria. Among them were English graduates, department store buyers, teachers, doctors and architects, and all of them had to start anew. Through BOY, EVERYWHERE I wanted to focus not only on the arduous journey a refugee takes to get to safety, but also what and who they leave behind and how difficult it is to start again. I wanted the focus to be on who they were and are, their identities as Syrians, not just the temporary political status attributed to them in their new country.

My hope is that this book helps to challenge stereotypes and break down barriers in our society. In a world where we are told to see refugees as ‘other’, I hope you will agree that ‘they’ are also ‘us’.

With love and hope,

A. M. Dassu 

Chapter 1

It all started going wrong during English. It was the last lesson on Thursday before the weekend, we’d just finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird and Miss Majida stood at the whiteboard going through some comprehension questions. I was scribbling them down, my head resting on my arm, when Leila tapped me on my shoulder from behind and handed me a note.

Are you coming ice-skating tomorrow?

I’d started writing back when the door flew open and Mr Abdo, our principal, burst into the room.

I shot up from my desk the second he entered and straightened my shoulders. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Mr Abdo, their faces blank.

‘Pack your bags. You’re all to go home,’ he said, rubbing the creases on his tired, worn face. ‘See you back here on Sunday morning.’

We didn’t need telling twice. Everyone slapped their books shut and the room erupted into noisy chatter. My best friend Joseph turned to me and our eyes locked in confusion. ‘Your parents and guardians have been called and are on their way to collect you,’ Mr Abdo added, loosening the knot in his tie, his lips thin and tight, lines deepening across his brow. ‘But why, Sir?’ asked someone from the back of the class. ‘There’s been a bombing. This is not a drill, eighth grade. We need to get you all home. You know the protocol.’

A collective gasp rose from the room.

Through the sash windows the sky was a clear blue. I couldn’t see any smoke. Everything looked  normal.  The old orange tree stood firm in the sunlit courtyard, the gold crescent moon on top of the mosque’s minaret gleamed in the distance. Behind it the red, white and black striped flag on top of the church tower fluttered gently in the breeze, cars were hooting their horns, the newspaper seller was still shouting out to people passing by his stall.

Where had the bomb gone off? Panic prickled through me as I thought of home. I wished phones were allowed in school so I could just call to see if Mum, Dad and Sara were okay. I grabbed my bag to get my iPad, but remembered it wasn’t in there. ‘Joseph, get your tablet out,’ I said. ‘Just want to check what’s happened – I forgot my iPad at home.’

‘They won’t have bombed anywhere near us, Sami. Don’t worry,’ said Joseph, pulling his tablet out of his bag and swiping to log in. ‘What shall I type?’ he asked, leaning in towards me.

‘Google ‘bombing in Damascus’.’

After a second, he pursed his lips and said, ‘Nothing’s coming up.’ He showed me the error message – the internet was down again for the second time that day. I felt my shoulders tense and quickly reminded myself that it was usually the outskirts of the city that were bombed. Most   of Syria was torn apart because of the war, but no one had gotten close to Damascus.

‘Your mum and dad are at work, right?’ Joseph asked, his eyes focused on my forehead. I realised I was sweating and wiped the back of my arm across my face.

‘Yeah, Dad’s at the hospital but Mum worked from home today because Sara wasn’t feeling well. They should be at the

mall now,’ I said, glancing at my Swatch. ‘She’s picking up my football boots before the trials.’

‘Well, no one’s ever bombed the centre. The government’s always on high alert – just chill, bro,’ said Joseph, lightly pushing his fist into my shoulder before turning to put his tablet away.

He was right. But every time there was a bomb alert,    I couldn’t help worrying. Damascus is safe, I told myself. I took a deep breath, gathered my books and packed them into my bag while Mr Abdo spoke to Miss Majida. She had her hand over her mouth and looked like she was about to burst into tears.

A backpack pushed past my arm, followed by another – everyone was already leaving.

‘They’re doing you a favour, Sami, you weren’t gonna pass the English test later anyway.’ I turned to find George grinning at me. ‘Neither were you, sucker,’ he said, pushing into Joseph. Even at a time like this, George couldn’t help being an idiot. Maybe it was his way of showing he wasn’t nervous like me, but it was so annoying.

‘You’re the one that’s gonna fail, loser,’ said Joseph, sticking his face into George’s.

‘Shut up! You’re so fat, the only English letters you know are K, F, C,’ George sneered at Joseph, then turned to me, raising his eyebrows and running his hands through his hair. So dumb, I thought. George still hadn’t got over Joseph coming from a non-English-speaking school. The class babble and sound of scraping chairs made it hard to think of a quick response but I had to stick up for Joseph, whose cheeks were now the colour of tomatoes. I rolled my eyes at

George. ‘We’ll see… K, F and C are still three more letters than you know. Did you stay up all week thinking of that one?’ His grin grew, so I added, ‘Shall I use smaller words to make sure you understand what I’m saying?’ It wasn’t the greatest comeback but I couldn’t think of anything else. ‘Loser,’ I muttered, as I watched him get tugged away by his mini fan club, which consisted of exactly two friends.

Joseph and I joined the stream of kids leaving the classroom. Mr Abdo was now speaking to Miss Majida at the door, but she stopped talking the second I drifted towards it.

Joseph clutched his backpack, his head lowered. He was unusually quiet. Ugh. George had got to him again.

‘You want to go to Damer’s for ice cream after the trials?’ I asked to cheer him up.

‘Yeah, of course, man!’ Joseph said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Then we can go again tomorrow after ice- skating.’ He grinned.

Mr Abdo marched past us. ‘Hang on,’ I said to Joseph and ran to catch up with him.

‘Erm, Sir, we’re supposed to be going to football after school, where shall we wait?’ I said, wondering if Mum had collected my football boots.

He picked up his pace and strode into the classroom next door to ours and started talking to the teacher inside. I shrugged my shoulders at Joseph as he caught up with me. We rushed down the central stairway of the school behind the swarm of students and flowed into the large reception area, where our physics teacher, Miss Maria, was ushering everyone out of the side exit. I slowed down as I spotted Joseph’s dad in a smart dark-grey suit, sitting on

the deep-buttoned green leather sofa with his head in his hands. No one else’s parents were inside, which was odd. The dark wood-panelled walls where the president’s portrait hung made him look even gloomier.

‘Baba?’ said Joseph. His dad looked up.

‘Ah, Sami, come here.’ Joseph’s dad stood up and reached out to hug me first. Weird. I went to him feeling awkward, and as he embraced me tightly I felt my heart begin to race.

He pressed my head against his shoulder and ruffled my hair, then released me and grabbed Joseph. I stepped back, feeling woozy from inhaling his strong aftershave.

‘Right, let’s get you both home,’ he said in Arabic, turning from Joseph.

‘But what about the football trials?’ I asked. ‘Our driver is bringing my boots. I have to wait for him!’

‘Your dad asked me to pick you up. It’s not safe to be out today.’

‘But, Baba!’ Joseph interrupted. ‘We were gonna get on the team today! This is so unfair!’

‘Joseph, I already told you, it’s not safe to be at the stadium.’

Joseph tutted, shoved his fist into the carved wooden door and walked out.

‘Thank you! I’ll keep you updated,’ Joseph’s dad shouted at the school receptionist as he followed Joseph out. I ran after him, my stomach lurching. Dad wouldn’t send Joseph’s dad to pick me up unless it was serious. Maybe the bombing was really bad. Dad would know because of the number of casualties coming in at the hospital.

The street outside school was a tangle of gridlocked cars and beeping horns. Cars were double parked across the pavement, leaving hardly any room to walk between them. The newspaper seller shoved papers and magazines into our sides as we walked past his stall, desperately trying to get them sold while the street was jammed with people. We    all got into Joseph’s dad’s Honda CRV and I pulled the seat belt over me slowly, looking out at all the parents frowning in their cars. Joseph glanced at me and then pulled out his tablet.

‘Can’t believe they dropped a bomb today of all days… been waiting ages for this,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘I know…’ I said. ‘I bet Avraham’s on his way with my boots as well. He’s probably stuck in all the traffic now.’

‘What did you end up ordering?’ he asked, pressing

Start on a game.

‘Can’t get the Nike Magistas in Damascus. So I got the Adidas Predators.’

‘Oooh, nice.’ He looked out of the window and then said, ‘Thanks for sticking up for me with George.’ His cheeks were flushed again.

‘No worries… I’d never leave you to face that thug alone.’ George and his stupid gang had bullied Joseph ever since we started middle school. They thought they could do or say anything they wanted because they were ulad masooleen

– kids of government officials. I’d never seen Joseph look so sad or alone as that first week, and I never wanted him to feel that way again. I’d always be there for him. It had always been Sami and Joseph. And it would be for ever.

‘Ignore him,’ I said. ‘He’s just jealous of your skills – still

hasn’t got over last semester, when you scored that penalty.’

Joseph smiled. ‘Yeah, that was awesome. Do you think they’ll rearrange the trials to next week now?’

‘Yeah, probably.’

As Joseph went back to his game, I stared out of the window, checking out everyone’s cars. Leila’s mum was in her space grey Lexus RX, but I couldn’t see Leila through the tinted glass. Oh man – I realised I’d totally forgotten   to reply to her note after Mr Abdo walked in. I’d message when I got home and tell her me and Joseph would be at the ice rink at 3 p.m. tomorrow.

It took twenty minutes to get out of the school street behind all the other cars, but when we got moving I could see the high-rise buildings were still intact, the roads were clear, traffic only building up near the checkpoints. There were a few fluffy clouds scattered in the sky. Something circled the blue far away, probably a helicopter. I still couldn’t see any smoke in the air. They probably bombed the outskirts of the city, I reassured myself again.

On the way to Joseph’s neighbourhood, a crowd of people were gathered outside a big villa, the men in smart suits and the women in dresses, some wearing headscarves. But I was more interested in the cars they were standing next to – a black Bentley and a white Rolls Royce parked on the road. Both Joseph and I sat up to get a better look, our mouths open, practically drooling.

‘Woah. What do you think they’re here for?’ I asked Joseph.

‘Probably a wedding… or a funeral,’ he said, showing me his game score and smirking. ‘I beat you, right?’

‘Oi! Give me that,’ I said, grabbing his tablet and pressing

Play. We’d been doing this for weeks.

Joseph’s dad parked outside their apartment building. As the car stopped on the smooth black tarmac, we heard what must’ve been gunshots in the distance. I always thought it sounded like rain hitting a tin roof. But it wasn’t raining. We jumped out, sheltered our heads with our arms and ran through their black front gates. We raced straight up to Joseph’s bedroom, throwing our bags down next to some dried orange peel he hadn’t bothered binning.

I sat on the end of his bed while Joseph switched on his PlayStation and small flat screen TV. ‘May as well play FIFA, if we can’t play the real thing, eh?’ he said, his second chin protruding more than usual because of his grumpy face.

‘Yeah, may as well,’ I said, wishing the trials hadn’t been cancelled and we were showing off what we’d been practising.

There was a small knock on the door and it opened. ‘Hi, you two. Do you want anything to eat?’ asked Joseph’s mum.

‘Nah,’ said Joseph, still facing the TV screen, waiting for the game to load.

‘How about you, Sami?’

‘No thanks, Aunty, but can I have a drink please?’ ‘Sure. What would you like? Coke?’

‘Yes, thanks. Shall I call my mum to get Avraham to pick me up? He’s probably waiting for me at school.’

‘No!’ she said quickly, in a strange high-pitched voice. ‘Your dad wants you to stay for dinner. Stay there – I’ll be right back with that Coke!’ She pulled the door tight and left.

I bit my lip and frowned as I grabbed the remote from Joseph’s hands and put it on TV mode.

‘Oi! What you doing?’ shouted Joseph.

‘Shhh, I just wanna check the news. See why Dad got us picked up. Don’t you wanna know?’

‘Not really. All they’ll show is more dead people.’ ‘Oh, come on, it’ll only take a minute.’

‘Go on then,’ said Joseph.

I flicked through the channels one by one. Kids’ cartoons, music, documentaries, news channel. My head started spinning as I read the headline flashing in red at the bottom of the screen.

DAMASCUS: CHAM CITY CENTRE MALL REBEL TERRORIST BOMB ATTACK

I sat staring at the image on the screen. The once-shiny glass building was now partly rubble. The glass half of the mall was a broken grey shell – the concrete half was just about standing. There were no windows or doors left in any of it and people in high-vis jackets rushed through the smoke, debris, rows of police cars and ambulances. I watched, but couldn’t move. My ears throbbed. I could see Joseph’s arms waving around next to me. Everything had slowed down, the noise from the TV and Joseph’s words muffled. I tried to say something, but nothing came out.

The mall had been bombed. Mum and Sara were there.  Buying my football boots.

C. G. Moore's debut novel, Fall Out, publishes this Thursday.  Written for Young Adults, the book focuses on sixteen-year-old Cal Adams and the aftermath of his, not-so-much 'coming out' as falling out and the fall out this causes with his family, friends and foes.  We are delighted to welcome C. G. Moore (Chris), to the blog as he talks to us about his early encounters with gay representation.

My earliest memory of seeing a gay character on the television was during an episode of Will and Grace when I was about eleven or twelve. I didn’t get the jokes. I didn’t really understand the subtext of what was happening but I knew that Will and Jack were gay. When I looked at them, I didn’t see myself. I saw stereotypes – gay men that were presented as being hyper feminine; didn’t want to mess up their hair, flicked their wrists, sashayed when they walked. Still, it was more than I saw in the books I was reading. I stopped reading at this age. For a variety of reasons but key to this was not being able to see myself in the books I read. Not a cipher. Not a stereotype. Not a supporting character. It wasn’t until I was eighteen, the age when I finally accepted that I was gay, that I read David Levithan’s Boy Meets Boy. I have a special place in my heart for the book because it was the first time that I remembered seeing a gay protagonist. I craved the world that Paul lived in, how everyone was so accepting at school and his relationship with Noah. I was always a bit of a low-key romantic at heart.

Today, LGBTQ+ creators and stars are in a position where they can subvert stereotypes and show multi-faceted aspects of our community. In film, TV and books, we see the complexities of character rather than ones that are boxed in by their sexuality. When I wrote Fall Out, I wanted to contribute to the stories which reflected LGBTQ+ experiences, continuing discussions around LGBTQ+ issues and people. I wanted to write the world I grew up in; one where I was bullied on a daily basis; one that I wanted to escape so desperately. Today, I have come out of the other side, but the pain of adolescence still lives with me, sticks to me, is lodged deep down in places too tricky to extract. I wanted to use that pain to represent the world I grew up in and offer hope; I wanted gay teenage boys to read Fall Out and see themselves represented.