Embedded Files
M J Sak is the author of a trilogy, The Summons Stone Series, books which may appeal to those aged from 9 - 99, and two adult novels, If These Be Twins, (a frustrating tale of nearly published by a reputable publisher!) and Last Bastion: Harriet Greene and the Crazy Bay Venture, published under the name M. J. Saklatvala. This last, published at the time of Brexit, although started many years before, amongst other things, sees Tasmania become a nation in its own right. The author wanted to be a writer from about the age of six. Her vision of her future was of a successful author, living in a cottage in the woods somewhere in England, with a stream or river nearby, two German Shepherds, (one long haired), a couple of cats and a booklined study with an open fireplace.m
When she was 21 she fell in love and lost sight of the dream, but she never stopped writing.
Marilyn King, as she was then, was born in Hastings, England towards the end of the Second World War. The Nursing Home where she was born had been moved from the Front (144 Marina) to a house, Oaklands, on or near The Ridge, belonging to the author Warwick Deeping. She always felt being born in an author's home was propitious.
June, Father, John, Peter, Mother, Marilyn
When she was four and a half, her father moved his wife and four children to Australia. They travelled on the second 'migrant' voyage via the Suez Canal of the El Misr (known by the children aboard as The Measles). Marilyn became quite well known amongst the other passengers because she almost lost the end of a finger in a tussle with a shower door. The ship's doctor was able to re-attach it and each day the four year old would trot off on her own to the clinic to have the wound attended to.
One day some young men pointed out a ship, sinking on the horizon. Marilyn dashed down to the cabin where her Mother was and asked her why they weren't going to the rescue. This episode periodically bothered Marilyn for years, and it wasn't until she was well into her fifties that she realised it was probably no more than an illusion, the ship sailing across the horizon.
The El Misr couldn't go ashore in Aden because of unrest, but bumboats circled beneath the ship and goods were bought and hauled up on ropes. The Kings bought two pouffes which were with the family for many years. Marilyn also remembers people tossing coins overboard, and dark skinned small boys diving down through the depths to retrieve them.
The El Misr suffered engine problems and was held up in Colombo, Ceylon (as it was then known, now Sri Lanka) for ten days awaiting a new part. The passengers had time to go ashore and explore different cultures. The road surfaces were so hot that even with shoes on the children's feet burnt, and their Father carried them across to reach the beach. There were visits to temples, with the shoes lined up outside the door, and open air cafes, with huge palms, and coconut sprinkled on the curry.
Then it was on to Fremantle, and finally Melbourne, where they disembarked and were separated by 'Travellers' Aid'. Mrs King, the two girls and baby Peter were sent to one hostel, Mr. King and his son John to another. This lasted for six weeks, until they rented a floor of a house in Ferntree Gulley, in the Dandenongs.
Here June and Marilyn became pupils at the local state school, where each morning they pledged their loyalty to King and flag. Initially Marilyn was put into the Baby class, but on discovering that she could already read, she was moved to Big Babies. Her memories of Ferntree Gully Primary are not happy.
Their first Christmas in Victoria she remembers as very hot, presents included a blue swimming suit, (her previous one was green wool, knitted by her Father), A.A Milne books, and a clear plastic case in the shape of a gun, holding multi coloured small sweets. She thinks a friend of her Father took them to the local swimming pool in the afternoon, but this may have been another occasion.
In pursuit of a dream to own his own photographic studio her Father now moved to Tasmania. The rest of the family flew out some months later and went to stay in a boarding house in Sandy Bay run by an Irish woman who used to get drunk and sing Galway Bay mournfully through the night. Marilyn attributes to this the lonely feeling she still experiences when seeing moonlight on water. They soon moved to a home in Rosetta, north of Hobart.
Marilyn was now six and it is at this age she remembers writing her first 'book', a present for her Mother. From this point on she was always reading and writing. She wrote poetry (and doggerel), short stories and told the younger children stories made up as they went along. Doing the washing up turned into an adventure, with the carving knife as King, and his people the plates and cutlery.
Shortly before they moved again, to Dynnyrne, a fifth child, Keith, “the most beautiful child in the hospital” was born. Soon after they moved, June and Marilyn left The Friends School, a private Quaker school, and Marilyn went to the local State school, Princes Street, where she received an education (based on the then English curriculum) which she maintains was second to none, and where she learnt things, still remembered today, “university students these days don't seem to know”. A school library bookmobile visited every two weeks, and she and June joined the Children's Library, where the Librarian, Patricia Scott, encouraged children to read to their capability, not their age. Marilyn often did the washing up with a book propped behind the taps (and got into trouble for it, when caught.)
A week before Marilyn's 9th birthday a sixth child, a long awaited (at least by Marilyn) girl was born. This made up to some extent that once again her Mother was in hospital for Marilyn's birthday, as she had been when Keith was born.
Her parents, anxious to fulfill another dream, spent many weekends touring the country areas of Tasmania, looking for a suitable (and affordable) smallholding. Sometimes they took the children with them, and Marilyn fell in love with a place at Collinsvale, and another at Forcett. Eventually they found 'Lyndale', at Lower Snug (up the hill from Snug, but further south down the (D'entrecasteaux) Channel Highway. The children would often discuss the unfortunate fact that they seemed to live at the point on the highway furthest from the coast, but being an intrepid bunch, during the summer they would get up at four in the morning, while it was still cool, and walk the two or three miles to Coningham Beach, much of it along the coastline, where they made their way paddling, and swimming across coves and inlets. Unfortunately heading for home a few hours later meant a long drag uphill, in weather already hot.
In many ways at home it was an idyllic life, 32 acres, much of it bush, to be explored. The children and their Mother named different areas, Milking Valley, Fairy Glen, Springy Heath, Wattle Grove and the Sawmill. Likewise fallen trees took on an identity as The Slide, The Aeroplane and The Ship.
The first Christmas their parents devised a treasure hunt for the four oldest children, with rhyming clues. It led them across much of the property. They enjoyed it so much that over the years they would devise their own for their younger siblings and visitors. A sixth child, the fourth boy, had been born soon after the move to Lyndale.
But the whole family worked hard as well, clearing land for vegetables and flower growing, digging water-holes and dams to provide water, milking the cow, feeding the pigs, catching the escaped piglets and helping rebuild and enlarge the house. At various times they kept pigs, ducks, and chickens, s well as the cows and a wandering caret-horse inherited with the property. There were always cats and dogs around.
In a previous incarnation Lyndale had been a plant nursery and as well as various flowering gums, wattles and other native trees and bushes, there were rhododendrons surrounding the house. Walking down bushland paths one came across azalea, clematis, heathers, bluebells and other surprising finds.
Later, one weekend when a high schoolfriend was staying she and Marilyn climbed the range of hills above Lyndale, heading hopefully for Snug Falls. They reached the top, to be greeted by a rocky domain with white flags flowering in profusion. It had been quite an effort, and they decided to abandon the Falls and head home, but somehow they went round a fold in the hills, and soon found themselves trying to negotiate horizontal vegetation. Boy, the dog, quickly slipped beneath the branches down to the ground and went home, arriving many hours before the girls. Marilyn often reflected that they may have been the first white people there. She named the hill Mt Ever-in-Grace, her friends middle names being Evelyn Grace.
At Princes Street Marilyn, who had always felt self conscious about her name, had registered herself as Jill King, her second name. This caused some embarrassment when records from the previous school meant people querying who was Marilyn King. This was exacerbated when she changed schools again and her Father insisted she be known as Marilyn again (he claimed to be fed up with hearing her friends call out 'Jeeall') This was only one of the many things her new classmates found weird – for goodness sake, she read books at lunchtime! An unhappy nearly two years at the local area school seemed likely to be extended when, sitting the Ability Test (11 plus equivalent) for admittance to high school, she missed out the final page of English questions because of a stupid mistake, probably due to nerves – or the tablet her Mother had given her to calm her nerves!
About 130 people in the school sat the test, in an attempt to win one of three places. Much to her surprise, somehow Marilyn passed and was accepted by her school of choice. (A G Ogilvie Memorial High School), her elder sister being at Hobart High, the only two schools for girls in the Southern part of the state at that time. Both schools were co-educational, but there was also a technical high for boys.
During the long hot summer holidays before she went to high school Marilyn and the two older boys, John and Peter, went soft fruit picking on a farm at Oyster Cove. The smell of raspberries still recalls memories of long, hot sticky days.
At high school it took Marilyn a couple of years to settle in and make friends, but once she had she became a member of the school orchestra (“third violin, and I probably wouldn't have made that if I hadn't been taking lessons during the lunch hour once a week when the orchestra started up, so I was in at the beginning. But I did enjoy it.”) She made many contributions to the school newspaper, much of it doggerel, written line by line with her friend 'Dilbury' (On the 30th hair on the right of my head / A little flea has mad it's bed / It jumps to the 31st / then back to it's lair /I wonder why I have fleas in my hair). One poem, written about her red setter, Rani, led to some staff questioning whether she had purloined it from elsewhere. Some teachers were firmly on her side, others seemed to carry their doubts until she left school.
She was for a time editor of the school magazine and won the inaugural Book Week essay competition for her year. She gained her School's Board certificate with three credits, four higher passes and one lower pass, assuming she would go on to Matriculation College. But with three boys to follow her, their Father thought it was more important for the boys to go to University, and with an 8th child on the way, Marilyn was told she would have to leave school and get a job. Two staff members in particular railed at her for throwing away her opportunities and wasting a good brain. (As far as is known the school made no effort to discuss this with her parents.) Spurred on by their attitude she said “Actually, I'm going to do my matriculation at night school.” This would mean working full time and then going to two hour lectures in the evening twice a week for the next two years.
But first she had to get a job. When she was fourteen, Eileen Colwell had visited the school and talked about children's literature and librarianship. It had inspired Marilyn, and later, when she was doing her homework in the State Reference Library, she thought she'd like to work there, finding out things. So she'd written to the State Librarian to ask if she could get a job there. She was told to get in touch again, once she had matriculated. She wrote again, to explain the new circumstances.
Meanwhile, the Australian Broadcasting Company was advertising for radio announcers. She and school friend both applied, and were called for interview. In both cases they were told that the ABC liked their voices and their personalities, but felt they were a bit young, and should reapply in two years time. Marilyn has wondered over the years how different her life might have been if she had followed this path.
She had a letter from the State Library to say without University Entrance, they could only offer her a clerical job, but if she was interested she should arrange to come in for an interview. Accompanied by her Father Marilyn went for an interview and was offered a job, but it seemed to her she had been mostly ignored while the two expatriate Englishmen had reminisced. She had mentioned in her letter that she intended to study for Matriculation at Night School, but the State Librarian had dismissed this, saying he had contacted the local technical college where such study would take place, and they had told him nobody had matriculated from there without having first done their Matriculation at Sixth Form.
On January the fourth, coincidentally her Father's birthday, full of trepidation she took up residence in an old wartime musset (Nissen) hut at the back of the beautiful Carnegie State Library building, in a room that seemed to her full of middle aged women – and one man. Over the coming months she would realise that in fact the fifteen women ranged in age from 18 (only two years older than her) to people in their fifties. That first day she was threatened with being reported to the union when she worked through her tea-break.
The family was still living at Lower Snug, and apart from on Fridays, the last bus left at 6.30PM, so twice a week her Father played snooker or billiards at the RACT (Royal Automobile Club of Tasmania), while Marilyn went to lectures. The first year she gained higher passes in English Literature and Modern History, despite having been moved to the lending library, obliging her to work late (until 9 o'clock) every second Friday, and working every fourth Saturday morning. As she settled down made friends with her colleagues she was often invited to stay over on Friday nights when she was working the following Saturday morning. Patricia Scott was still the Children's Librarian and became one of Marilyn's mentors. Patricia encouraged other staff to take turns storytelling on Saturdays, and ran storytelling workshops. Marilyn made more friends through this, and thoroughly enjoyed being part of the group – and the storytelling.
As she understood it when she started out, she needed three higher passes to get her Matriculation, as two of her School's Board level Higher Passes would be counted as Lower passes for the process of qualifying. The second year she studied Ancient History, but the experience was a disappointment after the first year, when she had had two good lecturers and some students with whom she quickly made friends, apart from her friend from school.
Then, three months before the final exam she found out that it was a requirement if qualifying over two years, to have a higher pass at Schools' Board level, or a lower pass at Matriculation within the two year period, and of course in a different subject. Despite appealing on the grounds that they hadn't done sixth form at school, they were told, there were no exceptions. Looking back over her Schools' Board subjects Marilyn (for reasons she can't recall) “probably it seemed to involve the least work, though French was never my best subject, but of course I was already doing them at the higher level”) decided French was her best bet. So at weekends, after milking the cow, helping with the washing, or cooking the dinner (she and her elder sister rotated these latter tasks) she would take her books into the hills and study.
Meanwhile Ancient History was not going well. Most of the students didn't like the old-fashioned lecturer and demanded a replacement – a brash young man who simply read aloud from an alternative text book. A friend from work had suggested they flat together, but her parents explained that they needed the contributions Marilyn made towards the household and travel expenses. Her circle of friends and invitations to stay over increased, and she was able to take advantage and join the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra Society and the Hobart Film Society.
Somewhat to her chagrin Marilyn only got a Lower Pass in Ancient History – but worse was to come! Having turned up at the Technical College for her 'viva voce' she was taken aback to find the invigilator was an Art teacher from her old school, who asked her name (in French) and then asked for her number. Marilyn understood that that was what was asked, but as she had no number, assumed she has misunderstood. Eventually the question was asked in English, and Marilyn, on the verge of tears, found the College should have notified her of a number. She had to hurry away and make several phone calls before she was provided with a number. Totally flustered and embarrassed, she failed her viva voce and so despite getting a pass mark, was only awarded a Lower Pass at Schools' Board level.
Supplementary exams, for those who wanted another stab at higher marks, were held in January. Marilyn determined to sit Ancient History again, but even if she passed there was still the extra Lower Pass requirement because of the two year period. She took an afternoon off work and sat in the Reference Library going through the Matriculation Manual, trying to identify a subject in which she felt she had enough knowledge to get at least a Lower Pass. The only one that looked at all likely was Economics, so she borrowed all the set texts and took three weeks leave. She told only her Mother and her immediate boss of her intention so when she told her Father she was re-sitting Ancient History he said he didn't know why she was bothering, as even if she passed, she still wouldn't matriculate. (“frankly” Marilyn says “I would still have done it, as a matter of pride.”)
The Ancient History exam posed no problems; not so Economics. The other students sitting the paper that day were all from various schools, and congregated in relevant groups. Listening to the conversations going on around her it seemed to Marilyn they were talking double Dutch, and she was totally at sea. And even more so when she read through the exam paper. Still, she was there for three hours, so she might as well do something. Once they were told they could start writing she said a quick prayer and read the paper through again. This time a few things made sense and she made some notes. Thankfully she realised that the Modern History she had studied the year before could be slanted and applied to some of the questions. Together with the various quotes from Adam Smith, Keynes, and Machievelli that she had committed to memory she managed to write the required five essays.
Some weeks later the results were published in The Mercury. Arriving, as usual early in the morning (for the past year her brother had been working and needed to be in by 8 a.m.) she stood by the paper rack. As other staff members arrived and saw her standing there they guessed what was going on and offered to check the results. But she had to do it herself. Ancient History – Higher Pass, hooray. And still she stood there, her fingers marking the place where the Economics results were listed. At last she opened to the page, ran her finger down the results, no Credit, no Higher Pass, but, yes, a Lower Pass, all she needed.
As she stepped back in joy and relief, a large chunk of ceiling fell from above, landing right where she had been standing.
Luckily, later that year the State Library moved to a new building!
In March, still working from when she arrived at eight in the morning, even when she was on a late shift, Marilyn started studying for the Associate of the Library Association of Australia, a degree equivalent qualification. Most of this was lead by a tutor based at the State Library but for Children's Literature, Architecture and Management self-study was required, although several of her mentors gave invaluable help. Story telling activities were still part of her life and, urged on by a friend and workmate, she also joined the Caverneering Club and spent many weekends exploring caves.
And she continued to write poems and short stories and to tell her younger brothers and sisters stories that she made up as they went along. (The eighth child, born her first year at work, was a girl) She submitted stories all hand written (“and my writing” she confesses “is execrable”) to the Australian Women's Weekly, but never heard back. She sent samples of her work to Marjorie Proops, who wrote back encouragingly and told her to 'stick with it'.
Marilyn read (and still reads) widely, autobiographies, biographies, detective novels, travel books, children's fiction, English, American and Australian poetry.. Working in the main Library of what was at that time probably the foremost service in the world, there were always not only books to hand but also a superb audio-recordings library and a film library. The two people in charge of these areas also became mentors. To this day Marilyn talks with gratitude of all she learned from them, and how her outlook and expectations were broadened.
When she was 21 she and her friend crystallised their plans, first formed when they were fourteen, for returning to the land of their birth. Spending a weekend at 'Lyndale' they spread out on the floor brochures they had collected from various shipping companies and held a mock seance, asking for a sign. Witch, a small black cat (one of five cats in residence at the time) stopped in the doorway, watching them, then delicately walked across and sat on the Chandris Lines brochure, So they booked their trip on the Ellinis, sailing from Melbourne to Southampton, via New Zealand, Tahiti and the Panama Canal.. Despite a flat calm sea until a storm in New Zealand waters, Marilyn was sea-sick, and continued so across the Pacific. But by the time they entered the Atlantic she had at long last developed sea legs. “It was fantastic! Great grey green waves pitching and rolling the ship, breaking across the upper decks, drenching us with spray – it was exhilerating! And most of the people who had made fun of my seasickness were now laid low. We had great service in the dining room and at long last I could really enjoy the food.
They arrived in Southampton at the end of March, the sun was shining, the temperature was in the seventies (Fahrenheit) and Marilyn's cousin and his girlfriend were there to meet them. “We drove to Wandsworth Common through a glorious sunset and I suddenly seemed able to relax – I was where I belonged.”
Many adventures followed; besides getting a job in a local library after some months temping at London University, the girls were usherettes at Queen's Theatre in the evenings, watching Richard Briers in Hay Fever, saving for the first of many holidays in Greece. At the end of the year after her friend had returned to Australia, Marilyn sat her last Library Association paper (she had failed it twice in Australia, and had no idea why. Some weeks before her exam she consigned all her notes to the dustbin, saying to her aunt “I know everything in here, there is no point in spending any more time on it.”) It appears she was right, as she passed and with over three years experience to her credit was now an accredited librarian. She gained an immediate promotion and was moved to a different branch of the library service.
The following year Marilyn did a short-term VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas) in Lehenhof, Germany, working with mostly young people from across the world, India, Italy, Scotland, Sweden, Germany, USA etc. in a Rudolf Steiner institution, laying paths for whelchairs, building chicken sheds, cooking etc. She also enjoyed stays with friends' families in Holland and Wales, as well as visiting different members of her own family.
She and seven friends, two Australians and the rest Dutch, had a camping / hostelling holiday, driving from Benikom in Holland down through Germany, “breakfast in Austria. lunch in Italy and tea in Yugoslavia” to Greece, They fund a place to camp on Corfu literally a few feet from the sea and spent days swimming and enjoying fresh Greek bread, cheese and vegetables. To get fresh water they paddled a lilo laden with amphorae, to a spring in the next bay. Getting them back without spilling too much was a challenge and lots of fun. From here they went to Athens, Corinth, Meteora, Delphi and Thessaloniki.
Back in England she was very happy, but she missed her family and after a letter from her Father asking her when she was coming home, she booked a December trip on the 'Australis' (sister ship to the 'Ellinis'). Back home she found it strange and confusing, no longer where she belonged. She loved sharing her adventures with her family and friends but somehow 'Lyndale' had lost its magic.
And then the 1967 bushfires burnt 'Lyndale' to the ground, Marilyn and her Mother were there at the time and after a futile effort, first to battle the fires, then to find sanctuary, they walked through the burning countryside to Snug, where the youngest was at school. Marilyn got a job, back at the State Library, in charge of the Country Bookmobile Service. One of her first tasks was to work out an insurance claim for bookmobile stock lost in the fires. Twenty of which, brand new, she'd borrowed herself on the morning of the fires, before it came leaping up over the hills.
“At first” she says, “I could not believe our place would burn, even though when my Mother and I left it was surrounded by fire, the hot winds creating their own patterns, leaping roads, racing up gulleys and across the tree tops. And then, when my Dad finally got through the police barriers and came to find us he told us the house was gone. It was in the car, going up to Hobart, I was hit by the realisation that all my writing from years back up to the three volume account of my overseas adventures which my Mother had been reading, was no more, wiped out as if it had never been. For me, this was the worst blow.
....................................................................................
A year later with the family resettled in Dynnyrne, Marilyn, with her friend from the previous journey and her brother John, were sailing to Piraeus aboard the Chandris liner 'Patris'. After three months living and working in Greece, and failing to improve her Greek, because everyone wanted to practice their English, she set out to return to England by train, her friend and her brother both remaining in Greece for a bit longer, probably a wise decision as it turned out..
There was some magnificent scenery countered by seeing only the hidden backwaters of Venice, so at variance to the common impression. It was in Italy Marilyn and her carriage companions, a young Greek couple, overheard a conversation that puzzled them. There seemed to be talk of an announcement to suggest passengers disembarked, and took another route, but in the end, nothing came of it and the train continued on to Switzerland, en route to France and Calais. The train reached Vallorbe and halted. Sorry, they were told, train stops here. It was obvious several trains had arrived before them, as the station was already crowded, including families with babies and small children. And more trains arrived. Marilyn, her Greek friends and a Turkish man who spoke bad French, formed a deputation to speak to the railway staff, who spoke Swiss French. Marilyn's French proved sufficient, somewhat to her surprise, to gather that strikes in France meant the trains were stopped and that the railway staff were taking no responsibility and offering no help. Between them they managed to convey this to the mainly Turk, Yugoslav and Greek people assembled on the platforms. There was no food or drink, though luckily a lot of people had come equipped and despite the uncertainty, willingly share.
Trains continued to come in overnight and the situation was developing into a complete farce. Babies had been crying all night and nobody could sleep. The self-appointed committee took a walk into the village in search of food, a hotel, even a park – and discovered a large modern building, completely empty except for staff, owned by the Swiss Red Cross. They explained the situation, of which everyone seemed unaware, and eventually, after hesitation and telephone calls, they were told accommodation would be offered. Back to the station where the crowds had lessened somewhat because some people had returned home. They commandeered the station trolleys, and had to fight to be allowed to take them, and led the crowds into the village. “The odd thing” said Marilyn “was we had to file pass a doctor, who inspected our hands, I've no idea why. Once past that we were taken to a dining hall and served large bowls of coffee. I imagine there was food as well, but I have forgotten, that coffee was just so welcome.”
For the next few days they stayed in the village, going every day to check at the railway station on what was happening. Nothing, it seemed. “It was so ridiculous” Marilyn says “in the end I said, well, I am going to get on a train and get to England on some other route. Can you give me a travel pass? No, they wouldn't do that. I was told I would be alright while I was in Switzerland, but after that I was on my own.” She went back to the hostel to tell the others, gathered her luggage and boarded a train. As promnised, Switzerland was no problem, Austria was no problem but the Germans couldn't grasp the concept and held her captive while it was talked around and discussed. “I pointed out there were going to be other people in the same situation and it would be good to have a policy, and it turned out there were already other people on the train in the same situation, being held in another carriage. Just before we reached the station where I had to change they agreed I could continue to travel, and even gave me a ticket. Belgium was no problem and at Ostende, as I boarded the ferry, It was one of the Dunkirk boats, which made me emotional before a sailor said “You look warn out love, get below and get yourself a cup of tea.” I continue to bless him in my mind, I truly felt I was back home, even before we had crossed the channel.”
While she worked at the BBC (and thereby hangs another tale, not to be gone into here), ODM (the then Ministry of Overseas Development) and the FCO, she always had a notebook by her in which she jotted down ideas for stories, often prompted by interesting facts she came across, and during her lunchtimes she worked on short stories. She had an idea for a children's picture book “I can't draw, so I thought if I invented an animal, nobody could say it didn't look right. (This was before the advent of Roger Hargreaves and the Mr Men books, but apparenlty he had a similar idea.)”
So was born a plebfwok called Flam. “But” Marilyn explained “he refused to stay a picture book, and started to grow into a full length story, together with Hortense the purple pig, Alcibiades the dragon and Mystra, the unicorn. Unfortunately, at some stage, I lost the manuscript, written in exercise books with a fountain pen, so no backup. (It was a red exercise book, in case anyone comes across it!) It went into cold storage for a time, partly because I joined an ILEA amateur dramatics group, where I met my husband to be and other things took precedence. I was still writing short stories in a notebook during the lunch hours, but this got left behind in the FCO Library when I went on sick leave, and didn't return. It would be nice to think it is still filed somewhere in the bowels of the earth, to confound future researchers.”
She was pregnant and suffered from all day morning sickness, making it impossible to work, so she resigned. They were planning to visit Tasmania and work there for a couple of years, as none of her immediate family had been able to attend their wedding, bar her brother John, who gave her away. They had hoped to travel by boat but the doctors recommended they fly.
Their daughter was born in Hobart six months later, and, in a series of coincidences, when she was six months older, they adopted twins, who were 19 months old. Three years later they took on another son, four months younger than their daughter.
“Year of the French Drains” was the first full length children's novel she completed. It was loosely based on experiences growing up at Lower Snug but essentially was a work of fiction. OUP loved the writing but was unsure of the genre. A children's editor at Hodder & Stoughton really liked the story but thought it would be even better if it was rounded out with the viewpoints of some of the other characters. Marilyn found she really enjoyed undertaking this, and found new insights. She resubmitted it but it was returned , apparently unread. The Head of Children's Fiction had moved on and her replacement wasn't interested. She put it aside, but some years later she wrote, in six weeks, a sequel and started a third in the series.
Her next foray was a picture book, “The Moon is Blue”, which started off as a poem written for a writer's group . The surreal images she conjured up fascinated her, and seeing it as a tool both for teaching children colours and inspiring their imaginations, she illustrated it “in a very naïve style”.
While staying with the family in Dynnyrne the two younger children complained about going down the outside stairs to bed in the dark, so “Out in the Dark Alone” was born. “I loved it” Marilyn says “I thoroughly enjoyed devising the illustrations; years later when CD-ROMs first came out I realised what a great interactive story it would have made. Meanwhile, I could see the illustrations were of a much higher standard than in “The Moon is Blue” so I had another go at that and it was definitely an improvement.”
One day she decided to revisit Flam the Plebfwok and his friends. Initially she found it very difficult, constantly casting her mind back to the first version, convinced that the original has been much better written. Once she passed the point where it had 'finished' she enjoyed writing further adventures. “It was a pure indulgence, the writing style reflecting the style of whatever I was reading at the time and everything I read was grist for the mill. Bits of history, interesting facts, serendipitous revelations, they all found a place in my story. My mind would be busy with the story whilst I was hanging out the washing, doing the gardening, taking the children to and from school, yet every time I sat down to type it would take a huge mental effort to start writing.”
Then, during a move, all her papers were lost. “For years after that the sum of my writing was verse, often doggerel, written for various friends to mark various events. Then I moved back to England and we joined the village drama group. I was one of the pantomime scriptwriting team and later wrote my own script, based on The Three Sillies, with the idea of incorporating English folk songs and tales, so they shouldn't be forgotten.
I still had lots of ideas for stories, and jotted down ideas in notebooks, on the back of envelopes, whatever was handy when something occurred to me. A picture book about catching leaves (every leaf you catch before it touches the ground means a happy day in the year ahead). I'v started illustrating it several times over the years, but never completed it. I've not actually written the ending to the story, either!”
........................................................................
In 1999 Marilyn took a career break for three months to visit the family in Australia. On her return, while job hunting, she started writing an adult novel “If These Be Twins”, a journey of discovery, travel and the unravelling of family history and relationships, to a certain point, for Hannah, “I enjoy writing for the sake of it, seeing where the story takes me. The characters and the story line really do take over and the way things work out often aren't what I had intended, but always better, more satisfactory I think. I love doing the research and finding that my imagination and research often gel, and also lead each other on. I love the voyage of writing a story, I enjoy travelling hopefully.............”
During the job hunting months she started another novel, set in Tasmania, but when she started working again, at three part-time jobs and two charities, it fell by the wayside. One of the jobs grew, involved research, datamining and horizon scanning “and this satisfied me, I enjoyed it in the same way as I enjoy research for my own writings.”
Then her daughter mentioned to her a competition for a children's novel and several ideas she had had at the back of her mind (“and scribbled on those envelopes...”) became the catalyst for “The Stone Summons”. “.......the resultant story bears very little relationship to the notes and ideas and took me to surprising places and on a whole IT journey, all of which I found very satisfying.”. Two days a week she worked in London and had a three hour train journey home. She did a lot of the writing on this journey and several times was so immersed in her story that she missed her station (and be carried on. (No small thing out in the border counties.)
Reading that Scholastic had a slush pile, everyone of which, they said, they read, she thought she'd submit the manuscript along with an idea for promoting it in schools via a competition. “Alex, one of my characters writes a blog, which plays a small part in the story. I thought an individual or group could have a go at writing the blog online, and a reward given to the winner.”
However, the manuscript came back so quickly that Marilyn finds it hard to believe it was actually read (“I'm biased, but I love the story and often reread it, and it has quite a few fans amongst my nephews and my adult friends, but obviously not at Scholastic.”)
So she decided to write the blog herself, as if written by Alex. “In fact, in a way, the conclusion of the story is not in the book, but on the blog, and I have now turned it into more of a promotional feature, so the Epilogue links are at the top of the page. - I have just reread The Stone Summons, I enjoyed every moment of it!” [2007]
........................................................................
The Stone Summons - Alex, Sandy and Lexie discover why time flies, and do something about it with the aid of modern technology, maths and geography lessons, ancient wisdom and knowledge. They are summoned, because of powers of which they are not yet aware, to help in the fight of a threat against the world by the Darksiders. As they live far apart, they meet initially via the Internet, and their mobile phones, but more supernatural meetings also take place. They explore their own powers and the powers of nature, and utilise both in their efforts against the Darksiders, efforts which are directed by other, older Light-Bringers, one of whom acts as their ‘guardian angel’.
Stone Summons Book 2 - Return of the Stone: Alex, Sandy and Lexie meet (in real time) in Malaysia. Alex's father is on secondment there, Sandy has a holiday with her grandmother, who has friends there, and Lexie gets to meet her father. They think they have been summoned, but don't know why. Or perhaps it is a coincidence they are all there at the same time - if you believe in coincidences. They look for reasons. Even after an event that seems to have been the reason, they still don't understand the importance of the event. In between, while in Malaysia they enjoy visits to various tourist attractions and getting to know a little about the country.
After they have returned to their homes they are shown the reason, but questions remain.
Stone Summons, Book 3: A Throw of the Stone: (Not Yet Available)
Alex, Sandy and Lexie embark on their adventure, with some new friends. A definitive account of Atlantis, wrapped up in a tale of discovery, friendship, adventure, time-travel, fantasy and faraway places in space and time, past, present and to come.
Mentors
Patricia Scott
Elisabeth Gardener
Eve Masterman
Heather Chauncy
Margery Ramsay
Eily Blainey
Marion Kearns
Elaine Goldthorpe
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse