Dim's Write Stuff

To throw the reader immediately into the action is a writing pre-requisite we authors often hear or try to adhere to. Doing so creates an immediacy that snags attention in the snap of just a few lines. Accomplished children’s writer of historical fiction, Pamela Rushby, achieves all this and more in each and every one of her novels. The Mud Puddlers is no exception. Oozing with atmosphere, animated characters and a fascinating glimpse into London’s not so distant history, this middle grade fiction beckons kids to believe in the possibility of time slipping. Twelve-year-old Nina is relegated to spend a year in London while her parents head to Antarctica on a research mission. Although she and Aunt Bee are close, Nina succumbs to a state of insubordinate gloom. Nothing Aunt Bee does or says can shake Nina out of her blue funk resentment at being left behind. Not even the adventure of living on her aunt’s converted barge on the river Thames is enough to enthuse. Nor the fact that her a...

Most of us have believed in monsters at some point in our lives, whether metaphorically or from when we believed they dwelt underneath our beds and behind our bedroom doors. This extraordinary middle grade fiction not only reignites the notion that we coexist with all manner of devilish beasts, it bravely intimates that not all of them are bad. Could there be some that fall somewhere in between good and bad? Is it possible to love a monster? Sam hatches one fateful night in the vast underground lair where all monsters dwell and begin. He is a curious and inexplicable creation never before seen by the noxious collection of pixies, ogres and trolls. Resembling something of an imp, the grumpy gargoyles adopt him as one of their own. Displaced and unexplained, Imp (aka Sam) learns more and more about his new world with each passing minute, however not the answer to his existence; why he looks like a human but behaves like a monster. From atop his cathedral spire home, Sam adapts to garg...

Dearest England, Forgive me. It's been too long since I've been in touch. But while sorting through my shoe box of snap shots the other day, I came across splashes of colour, images frozen in time, which reminded me of you and of Christmas last. I thought you'd like to see some. I can't believe it's been nearly five weeks since we left Nelson's country. The bracing cold air of Norfolk in winter is losing its bite. The memory of it, burning my cheeks and causing my ears to throb, fading like a dream upon waking. I cling to it just as fervently but it's hard to retain such a memory when the humidity here makes you sweat even as you sit unmoving.  Frost on the field of Norfolk, early morning.  We expected more snow. You gave us the second mildest UK Christmas on record. We expected rain. You cleared away the cumulus revealing crystalline blue skies day after day. It's been raining nearly every week since we got back. Heavy, relentless sub trop...