A CHILD GOES MISSING… A DRAGON HATCHES… TWO WORLDS, TWO PERILOUS JOURNEYS.

Eleven-year-old Danny is missing. Is he dead – or has someone taken him? His older sister, Ellie, is determined to do whatever it takes to find her brother…

In a separate world, a world of dragons and were-creatures, Argent sets out on a perilous quest when a thief snatches a baby dragon just after its hatching…

Glint blurs the boundaries between our world and another with two fantastic adventures running in parallel.

You can buy Glint at Amazon

While I was writing GLINT I was also a Writer-in-Residence with Seven Stories, the Newcastle-based centre for children’s books.  The residency was in my home town of Berwick upon Tweed.  For one term I worked with twenty four young writers from Berwick and Tweedmouth Middle Schools, getting them to write creatively about the place where they lived.  You can read their patchwork poem ‘Where I Live’ on this site.  They build it up by selecting and putting together all their favourite lines of writing.  I think the result is wonderful! 

One of the pieces my young writers produced was a description of their favourite meeting places in Berwick and Tweedmouth.  I borrowed these place names, such as Goldstone, the Goodie Patchie, Unthank and the Bell Tower, to use for Argent’s world.  If you look closely at the cover of GLINT, you will spot all these place names on the pictorial map.

You can find out more about Seven Stories by going to www.sevenstories.org.uk.  

To find out more about the writing of Glint and to read an extract from the book, go to www.acknowledgedland.com

If you are an adult and you want some advice on writing for children,visit www.newwritingnorth.com and go to my piece in the Advice section. 
For young writers, the best advice I can give is – read.  Read, read, read.  Read until you have words coming out of your ears.  And try to write something every day, even if it is only a few lines. 

Good luck!

Where I live- a poem by 24 young writers from Berwick

Where I live there are secret places to play.
Our places.  They hide us from prying eyes.
Our abandoned building site is like a Roman Fort.
We stand like warriors, proud and sturdy.
There are underground dens full of mud.
Dark and exciting, the danger keeps us there.


Racing down hills and tractor ruts as big as canyons
Is like riding the fastest roller-coaster in the world. 
Sun glaring in your eyes, it is like
God is watching you in every detail.
Rows of tank blocks like giant stepping-stones,
Or a monster’s rotting teeth.
On a great, bright day you can see everywhere.

Secret alleys and winding paths beside the railway line
Where the trains make a noise like footsteps.
The green at the back of my house
Is where we make summer friends again
After being enemies through the winter.

Read the full poem