In the Beginning there were Folk Tales (by Malachy Doyle)

My very first picture book was The Great Castle of Marshmangle. I wrote it 19 years ago, and life was never the same again.

 

I'd been writing for two or three years by then, but in October 1996 I went on a week-long Writing for Children course at the Ty Newydd residential writing centre in Wales. The tutors were Kevin Crossley-Holland and Valerie Bloom, and not only were they brilliant, but they were immensely encouraging of me and my writing. I've since taught courses at Ty Newydd with both Kevin and Valerie, and it's always a delight to be giving back to new writers, a thrill to be back at such a wonderful place, and a particular delight to see them both again.  

Kevin talked a lot about retelling folk tale, and about the responsibilities of approaching traditional material.
'Yes,' he said, 'many folk tales are dark, but naming the terrors helps children understand them - it's damaging to pretend there are no terrors.'
Yes, he said, they may be about people a world and an age away from us, but 'the deeper we look the more we're willing to grant humanity to those who are unlike us - to see that they are who we are - to realise that there's so little difference between us all that it's not worth mentioning.'
'Folk tale is healing and reconciliatory' he said. 'It looks for common ground between all of us who are human. The stories decode a hidden world but also celebrate a shared identity.' 
(And yes, I was taking notes, and yes, I have them still. I was a most determined apprentice!)

He asked us to find a folk tale, to take a folk-motif, and make it our own. He told us that his book Storm, one of my all-time favourites, came from an eight line section in a Scottish folk tale of a girl who goes on a night journey. I found a story called The Ghosts and the Game of Football in a Patrick Kennedy collection and turned it into one called Famous Seamus that went down a treat on the Friday night read-around. It eventually found its form as The Football Ghosts, published nine years later by Egmont in their Banana Books strand - particularly pleasing as Kevin's Storm, a Carnegie medal winner, was also a Banana Book.

 

And I've been doing it ever since - playing with folk tale. Probably somewhere approaching half of my books, including many of my picture books, either retell folk tales or more often use lines, ideas, motifs from folk tales as a starting point. If they've survived for hundreds, for thousands of years, changing with every telling, then there's obviously some core of truth and relevance and entertainment that will survive one more retelling, one more adaptation.

I got back from Ty Newydd in October 96, all fired up and searching for folk-tale inspiration. I was reading Ciaran Carson's superb book on Irish traditional music, Last Night's Fun, and was very taken with a story he quoted from the musician and story-collector Seamus Ennis. (It also appears in Joseph Jacobs' English Fairy Tales as Master of all Masters). So I wrote a picture book, and then, just to be sure, rang Ciaran Carson to check he didn't mind (and to clear with him that there weren't likely to be any copyright problems). Faber and Andersen made immediate offers, I went with Andersen, and it became my first book with the legendary Klaus Flugge (and the very lovely editor, Janice Thompson).

I had great fun, aided by my then teenage daughter Hannah (who's recently illustrated my Pete and the Five-a-Side Vampires), coming up with all the wordplay: Smoulderglow for fire, Soggadrop for water, Sandcastle Stompers for wellington boots, Brainbox Banana for a top hat... A teacher once told me her class had found the book invaluable when they were studying kennings - and was shocked when I told the class I hadn't a clue what one was. Oh, and I just loved the illustrations for the book by the masterly Paul Hess

It got loads of foreign editions and I was up and running: thanks to Kevin and Valerie, to Ty Newydd, to the wonderful and never-ending resource that is traditional story.

Do Picture Book Writers need Good Memories? by Malachy Doyle

At the age of 56 or 57 or whatever the heck I am these days, I might not remember where I put that damn cheque book, or car keys, or letter from the tax man. But the first ten years of my life? I remember every square foot of the house I grew up in. I remember how it felt, how it smelt, how it sounded. I remember those days with an incredible vividness, and it’s those memories, those emotions, those days of joy and discovery, that every picture book I ever write draws upon.

I’m lucky. The house I grew up in

is still there. (That's me on the bottom right by the way, aged about 6, by the garden gate.) It’s called Kiltermon, a big old house in the quiet little seaside town of Whitehead, at the mouth of Belfast Lough, where I still go regularly. The house isn’t in the family any more, but early in my writing career I put together a photographic collage of my childhood, on the wall above my desk, to help me connect with my 3/4/5/6 year old self.

After a visit in 1995, the year after I’d taken up this writing lark, I found myself writing a poem that drew on my earliest memory – sitting on my mother’s knee, after my father had left for work, and all six of my older brothers and sisters had headed off to school. Ah, the peace and quiet! Ah, the chance to have my lovely Mammy to myself at last!

It's quiet in the morning.

There's no one else around.

I lie in bed and listen...

Not a single sound.

It's cold out on the landing,

peeping round the doors.

My Mummy's smiling back at me.

My Daddy only snores.

I clamber up his tummy

and I wiggle down the bed.

We're a cosy snuggle sandwich.

I'm the jam and they're the bread...

I sent it to Walker Books, who said they liked it, ‘but it’s a second book’. I sent it to Transworld, who liked the language, the tone and the verse, but found ‘the storyline underdeveloped’. I rewrote it with a lost teddy, but they still weren’t convinced.

I sent it to the agent Celia Catchpole, who said she loved it and wanted to represent me! Result! It went off to a load more publishers then, but without success. (Celia did manage to sell twelve other stories of mine in the next ten months, though, so I was up and running, for sure.)

In late 1996, I went on a week-long Writing for Children course at Ty Newydd. The tutors were Valerie Bloom and Kevin Crossley-Holland. I showed Valerie Quiet in the Morning and she really liked it and suggested a number of amendments, which I gratefully incorporated.

By the following spring, though, Celia was telling me that the market for rhyming picture books wasn’t great, and that we seemed to have come to the end of the line with this particular idea.

In 1999, however, Simon and Schuster got hold of it. They came ever so close to giving me a contract, but again, it didn’t work out.

And so the story disappeared, resurfacing every few years for some spit and polish, but never being seriously considered for another push.

Then, in 2010, I pulled it out, gave it a complete overhaul, and wrote to my agent.

Dear Celia, another one that I think it's a real shame we never managed to sell is Quiet in the Morning… I know this one's had its run over the years, but we've had a fair bit of success, you and I, selling older ones...

The ending at this point was:

It’s cosy in the armchair,

now my teddy’s back again.

The morning rush is over.

My favourite time is when…

It’s quiet in the morning –

with no one else around.

Me and Mummy in the kitchen.

Not another sound.

Celia showed it to an editor from Dial US, who ‘loved the idea of a snuggle sandwich’ and thought it would make a great title. They felt the narrative voice ‘didn’t quite ring true,’ wanted more tension, and wanted the whole thing to come full circle at the end, ‘perhaps with Ted in a snuggle sandwich between baby and mum.’

Never one to ignore good advice, that’s what I did, changing it from first to third person and adding a new punch line in the American editor’s honour. So now the ending was:

It’s quiet in the morning,

now Teddy’s back again.

The morning rush is over.

Annie's favourite time is when...

There’s only her and Momma.

No more fuss and clutter.

Now THEY’RE the snuggle sandwich,

And TED's the peanut butter!

Much better, though I say it myself!

Dial didn’t take it, but Celia's like me - she doesn't give up easily. She made some text suggestions herself - she’s a brilliant editor – and agreed to give it one more go.

Me: It'd be absolutely delightful to sell this at last. I wrote it in 1995!

Celia: And everyone saw it in 1996-7! I still have my offer card with the list. However, I do think this version is much stronger and lots of new editors have arrived since then so I will take it with me to meetings here and do my best to sell it.

Penguin UK nearly took it. ‘A Snuggle Sandwich! That’s what I do with my son!’ said the editor, but couldn’t get it past her boss.

Then, two months later, a student I’d tutored on an Arvon course - I’d gone from poacher to gamekeeper by now - sold a story (one I'd helped her with) to Andersen Press, who'd published my first picture book, The Great Castle of Marshmangle, and later Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! I've a real soft spot for Andersen and for Klaus Flugge, their charismatic top dog - they only publish books they truly believe in; they're unusually speedy in terms of making decisions, drawing up contracts and, all importantly, paying; they're very good at selling foreign rights; they keep books in print for as long as they possibly can...

So, though I hadn't worked with them for some time, I wrote:

Dear Klaus, I hope you're keeping well. Anthea Simmons sent me a copy of her lovely debut Share!, with its fulsome dedication to me. It's a delightful book and I hope it does really well for both you and her. It made me think about you for a picture book idea of mine called Snuggle Sandwich, which I attach… It would be lovely to work with you again.

I sent it, along with a new story, not mentioning of course that they’d already turned down Snuggle Sandwich fourteen years before!

Klaus got back the next day: Dear Malachy, Thanks for sending us your two stories. I love the first and hope we can do something with it (perhaps making baby a bit older??) Kind regards, Klaus

He wanted The Snuggle Sandwich! RESULT! I said yes yes yes, and two days later got the delightful one-liner:

OK, Malachy, let's do another book together (if we can afford you!) K.

Some more very helpful text suggestions from their editor, Rona Selby, and then they asked if I’d any illustrators in mind. I suggested Gwen Millward, as I’d loved The Bog Baby, which she’d done with one of their authors, Jeanne Willis. Gwen said she’d be delighted to take it on, and hasn’t she done a wonderful job!

And so, in a couple of weeks time, The Snuggle Sandwich will be published. It’s been a long long road, with input from many many people, but hopefully it still feels as fresh as a first draft, only better. And as true as a three-year-old Malachy.

A three-year-old Malachy with a long long memory.