Did you feel that Mum’s reaction was believable when she discovered the truth about what was going on with Alex?
In her citizenship lesson, Izzy has to answer a question – who would she choose to save if there were four people tied to a train track and a train was coming? What would your answer be?
In the same lesson, Izzy learns that dilemmas are usually dealt with in one of four ways: trusting your gut instinct; getting some advice; asking for the opinion of everyone involved or tossing a coin. Which strategy do you tend to use when you’ve got a difficult problem to solve? Discuss the pros and cons of each strategy.
How do you think Finn feels about Izzy? What do you think he feels for Alex? What do you think will happen next?
Were there any times that you disagreed with the actions of one of the characters? What would you have liked them to have done differently?
Did you guess the name that Izzy chooses for the Bad-News Baby? Do you think that ‘Violet’ is an appropriate choice or would you have chosen another name? Explain your reasons.
How is the theme of colour used throughout Violet Ink? Do you think that this adds anything to the narrative?
What are the differences between Charlie and Finn? Create a pen portrait of them both, describing their characteristics and personalities. Who do you prefer?
Did you like the ending? How would you have liked it to end? Are you keen to find out what happens next to Izzy, Alex, Finn, Charlie and Violet? Describe what you think they’ll each be doing in ten years’ time.
Questions for Rebecca
How long did it take you to write Dandelion Clocks and Violet Ink?
I tend to write a first draft quite quickly – it takes me about six to eight weeks, writing after work in the evenings and at weekends. Being a teacher is great because I get lots of writing time during the holidays, which helps! Once the first draft is written I’ll take my time on the edit, really developing the voice of the main character and making sure that there are no inconsistencies in the plot.
Does anyone read your books while you are in the process of writing them?
I’m really lucky to have an incredibly supportive family, who read everything that I write (and have an opinion on everything I write too!). My eleven-year-old daughter was the first person to read both books. In fact, it was a conversation that I had with her in our garden one day last spring that gave me the idea for Dandelion Clocks. She also helped me to write some of Izzy’s poems in Violet Ink. Once I’m happy with what I’ve written, I’ll ask people to have a read and give me their thoughts. My husband, mum, sister and lovely friends are great at doing this!
Which authors have inspired you?
One of my favourite authors is Robert Cormier. He writes about topics that are quite grown up in a way that younger readers can access, without being patronizing. I often find his books chilling – they always leave me with a list of questions and wanting more.
When I was a child, I loved Judy Blume. I would read her books and feel as if I completely knew the characters, even though their lives were so different to mine.
Now, I enjoy reading books by authors like Patrick Ness, Meg Rosoff and John Green. They aren’t afraid of tackling ‘big’ issues. After all, life happens to everyone – not just to adults.
What is your favourite way to spend a day off from teaching and writing?
I love spending time with my family. We are all big fans of camping and what I enjoy most is sitting in the sunshine watching my husband cook us an amazing campfire meal while our three children race around on their bikes (I’m not completely lazy though – I do the washing-up!).
In the winter, if I’m not writing then I’m probably reading, while my husband cooks us a meal and the children create chaos with Nerf guns. (You can probably tell that I really, really hate cooking.) Actually, I’m not that fond of housework either, so at the weekends we play a card game after supper – the loser has to wash up.
I want to be a writer. What are your top tips for getting published?
Write for fun! When I wrote Dandelion Clocks I was so excited by the idea that I wanted to write it down just to find out if I could create a story from beginning to end. I didn’t write to get published – I wrote because it made me feel happy.
Sometimes, write as quickly as you possibly can. Don’t worry about whether it’s perfect – just enjoy the excitement of writing your words down. And then leave it. One of my favourite things about writing is returning to read something I wrote a while ago. It’s a great way of figuring out what works in your writing.
Write for lots of different reasons. Being a writer doesn’t mean that you are writing a book. It means that you communicate and record information using written words. So write a diary, write letters, write emails, send texts. Make lists, write a poem that you’ll only ever show one person, leave notes for your family on the fridge in magnetic letters. Write using as many exciting, interesting words as you can and then write using only twenty words. Play about – they’re your words and there aren’t any rules.
Don’t give up. If someone gives you feedback on your writing (it could be your friends, family or a teacher), then listen to what they have to say. Try out their ideas and decide if it improves your writing. If it does, then great – you’ve developed your skills. If it doesn’t, then you haven’t lost anything.
Rebecca’s Top 5 Best Books
Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Magorian
After the First Death by Robert Cormier
Wonder by R. J. Palacio
A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness
Skallagrigg by William Horwood
(But really, it’s impossible to choose just five! I have always loved The Dark Is Rising trilogy by Susan Cooper and I’ve recently started reading books by John Green. When I was growing up my reading included Enid Blyton, Judy Blume, Willard Price, Lynne Reid Banks and Lucy M. Boston to name just a few. I’ve just read Grace by Morris Gleitzman and thought it was amazing.)
I sometimes think about the box buried deep at the back of my wardrobe and wonder if I’ll ever open it up again. I wonder if her soul is in there, desperate to get out and be free. I wonder what she’d say to me if she could see how I’ve become – but I don’t think about this for too long because I think I know what she’d say and I don’t agree with her. To laugh, to enjoy, to live is to forget – and I will never forgive myself if I allow that to happen. And actually, she left me so she doesn’t get a chance to have an opinion. If she wanted to have a say in how I live my life then she should have stayed, shouldn’t she? She shouldn’t have left me alone with a box of old, rubbish diaries that are no use to me at all.
She shouldn’t have gone.
If it were possible to actually die of embarrassment, then right now, I would be officially dead. There should be some sort of Charter, or human rights Act, that stops every mum from behaving as if she is the first person in the world to become a mother. It’s like my mum has no idea that women the world over have been parenting forever and have not felt the need to interfere in every teeny little detail of a child’s life. People grow up every day, even without their interfering mothers and their totally unwanted help and ‘advice’.
I so nearly got away with it as well. I’ve been planning for ages and saving my allowance so that I didn’t have to ask Mum or Dad for extra – I knew they’d go mental if they thought that I’d gone against their wishes and got them to pay for it into the bargain.
I’d done all my research – which wasn’t that hard as the only place in this miserable town that you can get your ears pierced is Hair & Things, a totally lame girly shop that sells jewellery and hairbands and lots and lots of pots of nail varnish in neon colours – and Alice called for me this morning as we’d agreed.
When we got to the shop there was a queue. I started to feel a bit nervous and wished I’d brought my camera. Taking photos always clears my mind of everything else and the girl waiting in front of me had this amazing purple and
pink hair that would have made a brilliant photograph. Alice told me that it wouldn’t hurt any more than the time I was stung by a bee at Sports Day – which wasn’t actually reassuring cos that was agony. Anyway, it came to my turn and I sat on the stool in the window.
I’ve never been sure why they put the stool in the window – but I know now. It’s so that when your nosy, bossy mother happens to walk past on her way to the supermarket and sees you sitting there about to ‘violate your beautiful body’, she can push her way into the shop, yelling at the top of her voice and demanding that the, frankly terrified, shop assistant explain herself ‘this very instant, young lady’.
She then went on to ask, in a piercing voice that carried all the way to the back of the shop (where I definitely saw some girls from school lurking and sniggering), how a reputable shop could allow a young girl to disfigure herself. The shop manager had bustled over by this time and started telling Mum that I’d said I was over sixteen, but Mum burst out laughing in a not-very-amused way and asked the manager to take a good look at me and did I look like I could possibly be over sixteen? The manager said that no, now that she thought about it, I looked nowhere near sixteen and could she offer Mum a £5 gift voucher to make up for the mistake?
I have no idea what Mum said in response as I was too busy dealing with shrinking into the floor.
By now the girls from school were openly listening to every comment and nudging each other and laughing. Alice, star that she is, stayed by my side but had turned a particularly unflattering shade of pink.
Mum, having made mincemeat of the manager and vowing never to darken the door of Hair & Things again as long as she lived, turned and stormed back out on to the street.
It was obvious that she expected me and Alice to follow her, which we did. Mum was waiting for us outside and without saying a single word, walked us to the car. The whole way back to Alice’s nobody said a thing. Alice and I kept looking at each other – I half wanted to laugh but every time I thought about what had just happened, and how it would have spread round Facebook like wildfire by the time I went to school on Monday morning, I lost my sense of humour. Alice just looked petrified – my mum can be pretty scary when she wants to be.
We dropped Alice off at her house, Mum still not speaking. Alice gave my hand a squeeze and mouthed ‘Good luck’ at me. We both knew that I was really going to need it.
Mum drove off but then she stopped the car round the corner. I braced myself. The thing about my mum is that she talks. And talks. I reckon the armed forces have missed a trick when it comes to fighting terrorism and defending the free world – they should send Mum in and let her lecture the enemy into surrendering. A couple of hours with her and they’d be begging to be released with eternal promises of good behaviour and a firm understanding of the consequences if they stepped out of line …
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First published 2014
Copyright © Rebecca Westcott Smith, 2014
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ISBN: 978-0-141-34902-2
Violet Ink Page 22
