Mandy Jarvis, "Moving on Up: Writing a Creative Dissertation"

Since completing a BA in English and History from Leicester Polytechnic way back in 1986, I have worked in a number of different settings including journalism, teaching English in other countries, statutory and voluntary youth services, and more recently in the state education sector. The common thread through all of these careers has been in supporting children and young people from a range of different backgrounds and experiences. My love of reading and writing has remained constant throughout.  

At the end of 2022, I took a leap of faith to pursue my love of literature and left my job as a primary school teacher to embark on the MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature at Leicester University. My decision to write a creative piece for my final dissertation gave me the opportunity to combine what I had learnt from both the critical and creative aspects of the course, along with my own experiences in education. I was keen to write something that could potentially be of use to children when making the major transition from primary to secondary school.  

My experiences in working with year 6 children (aged 10-11), in particular, had demonstrated to me that this is a key pivotal moment in their lives. For my dissertation, I wrote a set of three middle-grade short stories, Moving on Up, in which I addressed some of the common themes I had identified from my own research and observations, as well as concerns children had shared with me. These included: friendships and fitting in, getting lost, homework, detention and bullying. Each story focuses on the experiences of a young person who has just started at the fictional Riverview Secondary Academy. My rationale was to write stories which could both entertain children as well as providing the opportunity for them to see themselves on the page - and to reassure them that they were not alone in what they might be feeling about moving up to secondary school.    

Advice for students

If you are on the MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature and are in any way considering choosing to do a creative piece for your dissertation, sign up for the Creative Writing modules that are available to you. They will allow you to become more familiar with how the writing process is taught, submitting pieces of work and how discussions are managed. The experience will also expose you to texts on the craft of writing as well as other texts that will help you to become more familiar with different genres and reading as a writer. The two MAs work together really well and it really felt like I got a lot more out of the year by combining both.

Get used to sharing your work with others, however scary it may be, as it is an integral part of the writing process. It is always managed in a very positive and supportive manner and really helped me to begin to get over my anxieties about how my writing would be received.  All feedback is useful.  

 

Ten tips for writing a creative dissertation

1. Write about something you really care about and are invested in. It will keep you going through the duration of the writing process.
2. Read as many primary texts as you can within the genre of your writing.
3. If you need to meet other people as part of your research, get in touch early. People are busy.  
4. Start writing as soon as possible.  Things will start to fall into place.  Even if you think it’s useless, it won’t be and there will definitely be a couple of nuggets in there that will dictate where you go next.
5. Try not to keep going back to re-writing and editing too early.  There’s a danger you’ll get rid of something really good.  Try and finish a chapter or a short story in a sequence so you can see the whole thing before you start to redraft. 
6. Make use of your supervisor. They’re not judging you. They’re really happy to help you. Be honest and take risks by saying what you’re really worried or thinking about.  
7. After a tutorial, write up your notes, actions and look up any texts/research that have been recommended to you. I found doing some re-writing straight after my tutorials really productive as it was fresh in my mind and I could see more clearly the changes I needed to make.  
8. Take down time. Go for a walk or talk to someone else about your idea. It’s in this time that I could see what was missing or didn’t work. Most of my ideas were formed and then reformulated during time away from the screen.  
9. If you’re struggling to write creatively, read something for your research or reflection. It’ll feel like you’re doing something.
10. Don’t worry too much about your reflective commentary until you get closer to the deadline. The feedback from your tutorials and the experience of writing your dissertation will already be formulating and dictating what will go into your reflection. 

Constantine, "Jötunheim"

Congratulations to University of Leicester MA graduate Constantine on the publication of his new children's novel!

Constantine is an autistic author and father. He achieved a first-class BA at Middlesex University in 2017 and completed his Master’s Degree in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester in 2022. Between the two degrees he wrote four episodes of the Children’s TV show Pablo, and has written and published the picture book Tiya and the Minotaur and The Cats of Charnwood Forest. Jötunheim is the sequel.

About Jötunheim: The Cats of Charnwood Forest Book 2

In every world, from Alfhiem to Kapol-Tok itself, tremors have struck bringing destruction. The Thringstone fault is active; nobody knows why. Reality is falling apart at the seams. Through one of the cracks comes an ancient Jötunn, an ice giant of Viking legend, with a message for Bailey and Scruff. Only they can prevent the collapse of the universe itself.

You can read more about Jötunheim here. Below, you can read an edited excerpt from the novel. 

From Jötunheim, by Constantine

As the boy approached, Bailey could hear him sniffling and snuffling as he wept, and Bailey’s heart went out to him.

“Oh, I wish you could understand me,” said Bailey, sighing out loud. The boy stopped, looked around in confusion, and spotted Bailey.

“Did you just speak to me?” he said.

***

Bailey stood to attention as the boy scratched behind his ears.

“Please don’t,” said Bailey, “I don’t have time. I need to find my sister.”

“How many of you are there?” said the boy. “You are the first native cats I've seen since I came to England.”

“How come you can understand me?” said Bailey.

“Cats are sacred to my people,” said the boy, “Our legends tell of two magic cats who pull the goddess Freyja’s chariot. But even for my people, it is a rare gift, and we tend to keep it secret. We have cats back at the Thorpe.”

“I’m sorry this is too much for me to take in,” said Bailey. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Bailey, and I’m a Guardian of the Charnwood Forest. Who are you?”

“I’m Leif Osgoodson. My father’s Thorpe is up the road.”

“What’s a Thorpe?” Bailey asked.

“Oh …  it's - what’s the Saxon for it? It’s a farm, I think.”

Bailey’s brow furrowed. “Osgood’s son … from Osgood’s farm … Osgood’s Thorpe? ... Osgathorpe? You’re from Osgathorpe?”

“Well, I’m from Norway,” said Leif, “but my father built the Thorpe a few years ago after our Jarl, Halfdan, gave us the land.”

“Only a few years ago?” said Bailey. “What year is it?”

“Well, it’s the 5th year of the Danelaw,” said Leif, “So by Saxon terms, it must be about the year eight hundred and eighty-three, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bailey “When?

Constantine, "Tiya and the Minotaur"

Congratulations to Constantine, University of Leicester MA Creative Writing graduate, who has just published a picture book, Tiya and the Minotaur!

Constantine is an autistic writer. He holds an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Leicester and his previous works include The Cats of Charnwood Forest and four episodes of the children 's TV series Pablo, which is available on BBC in the UK and Netflix worldwide.

About Tiya and the Minotaur, by Constantine

This picture book was written by an autistic writer for his autistic children.

Is this book only for autistic and neuro-diverse children?  No.

However. it has been made with them in mind. The artwork has been designed in such a way that readers on the spectrum, by and large, find helpful. For instance, throughout the work none of the characters have faces. Many people know that many autistic people find eye-contact uncomfortable; however, even when eye contact is not an issue, processing faces can add a significant load to an autistic child's ability to process. Interestingly when testing this book on both autistic and neurotypical adults and children, few even noticed the characters' lack of facial features and in the few who did, none found it an issue. The colours and scenes throughout are 'soft.' By this, I mean that even in that few brightly lit scenes, there is nothing 'glaring; or 'confusing.'  Whilst I love abstract imagery, it can be a stumbling block for young children and can even overload an autistic child trying to make sense of the scene.  

In addition, the author has noticed that there are many young advanced readers who still crave picture books with age-appropriate stories, but want something longer with a more challenging vocabulary. At the same time, there are older reluctant readers who need to be eased into reading but find novels intimidating or boring and need a hand to get back into the practice of reading for pleasure. To find an autistic child of say twelve years of age who is unable to read fluently and still like to have picture books read to them is not unusual.

It is primarily for them that this book has been created, though I hope the neurotypical of all ages will also enjoy it. 

​​​​​​​

From Tiya and the Minotaur

Nik Perring, "Ghost Reader"

 

Nik Perring is the author of six books for children and adults, and prize-winning short stories published all over the world.

He’s taught writing in schools, universities, in the community, with UNICEF and for the BBC; he’s been Writer in Residence for Sheffield’s Year of Reading, put poems on the sides of buildings and in city centres, and worked with a huge range of people in loads of countries. 

His most recent book is Ghost Reader, commissioned by the Sheffield General Cemetery Trust. The book is for 9-12 year-olds and is illustrated by Ella de Souza. You can read more about it below. 

Nik's website is here. 

About Ghost Reader, by Nik Perring

The ghosts are forgetting who they are.

The Grey Girl needs help.

She’s come to Ayala to ask for it. 

But how do you help a ghost? Especially one who doesn’t even know who she is …

Ayala is determined to find out in this exciting, sometimes creepy, and often tender adventure, starting in Sheffield’s General Cemetery and spanning eras and lives. There is help out there if you know where to look, from the living and the dead. The trick is finding out who’s telling the truth, and whose intentions might not be quite so honourable …

From Ghost Reader

‘You keep saying that you can’t remember things. How come you’re forgetting?’

Rosetta’s face became stern. ‘How would I know? Something strange has been happening. I wonder if the forgetting started when the visitors began arriving.’ She sighed. Pushed her hands to her cheeks. Shook her head. ‘Terribly sad. Those lost souls.’

‘Who?’ asked Ayala.

‘Newcomers to the cemetery, but not new to their second lives. For some reason, they started drifting in here, more faded than they ought to be. Some of them, you could barely see at all. All of them asking us questions that we cannot answer.’

‘What do they want to know?’

‘Who they are. Where they’re from.’

‘But why?’ asked Ayala.

A dog barked, and it was close.

Ayala froze. ‘Someone’s coming.’

Constantine, "The Cats of Charnwood Forest"

Congratulations to Constantine, MA Creative Writing student at the University of Leicester, who has just been published his children's novel, The Cats of Charnwood Forest!

Constantine was born autistic (with other learning difficulties such as ADHD and Dyspraxia), at a time when not many in the UK could correctly recognise or diagnose such issues. Like so many others with his condition, he spent much of his late teens and early 20s living on London's streets. He always had a desire to be creative and, after working with Jeremy Deller in 2006, a seed was planted that, maybe, he could achieve something. He took himself into adult education in 2011 and was surprised to find how much more accommodating the education system had become to those like himself. In 2013, his first short was published in an anthology called Jam, and in 2017 he received a first class honours in Creative Writing at Middlesex University. He has since written a number of episodes of Pablo for Paper Owl films (currently showing on CBeebies and Netflix) and has written this book, The Cats of Charnwood Forest, which his script editor on Pablo, Andrew Brenner, was kind enough to edit. 

Constantine is currently working on an audio version with the cast of Pablo, building a website to accompany the book (https://catsofcharnwood.com/)  and hopefully finishing his Masters Degree at the University of Leicester.

You can read a review by Ayana Sen-Handley of The Cats of Charnwood on Everybody's Reviewing here. 

About The Cats of Charnwood Forest

By Constantine

I can tell you what the book aims to achieve. First and foremost, it is a gateway book: a book for those clever six-year-olds who are tired of books for their age and want something more challenging, but are maybe not ready for the more grown-up themes; or for older 'reluctant' readers, readers who need to be coaxed and encouraged - ten-year-olds who pick up books for their age group and higher, but don't get past the first few paragraphs.  

The book aims to connect with such readers firstly through the language: though it is gently paced throughout, it increases in complexity over the first four chapters in a way which, thus far, no child has mentioned but a few parents have noticed. Secondly, there are the protagonists, Bailey and Scruff. They represent not only the child but in particular the autistic child. As they grow over course of the book to adulthood, they deal with many of the same experiences as human children and adults - from bullying (on both sides), to gender roles and stereotypes and much more.

I'm not entirely sure exactly what lessons its sequel will explore as it is not finished yet, but I hope you enjoy this exclusive look forwards to the second book ...

From Joltanheim: The Cats of Charnwood Forest, Book 2

Prologue

This book is not like most “second books.” Most second books take place the next day, or after the school holidays, or on the anniversary of the first adventure. But this is about The Cats of Charnwood Forest and in Charnwood, time is never quite a straight line.

Between the time I first met Scruff in that cave, and the time I finally finished writing up that first story, years have passed. Time is not the same for all of us. Cats' lives are shorter than the lives of the humans they own. Human lives are short compared to Goblins' and Goblins' lives are short compared to Elves.  

Bailey and Scruff (sometimes with my help) had many more adventures over the years. I hope one day I will have them all written down. However, the story I have decided to tell next sort of goes next; because although it happened many years later, it also happened many years before.

I hope you enjoy.

Yours,

Ghaz’on

Chapter One: A Grave Disturbance

Bailey stood by the brook as the last of the Fairies and Pixies jumped through a small door which led back to Fayre. Mai was last to go and she bowed to Bailey before hitting a button on her shoulder which activated her Elf-made artificial wings. She shot up into the air, looped the loop and shot through the doorway with a “yippee.” As the door closed, it melted away like mist and Bailey was left standing alone by the Brook.  

Bailey couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride seeing Mai doing so well as the first citizen of Fayre to be a Guardian in living memory. He started to turn for home when he felt something -  like a low loud noise which he couldn’t hear, but could feel in his bones. A strange silence seemed to fill the world. The birds stopped singing, mice stopped scurrying. Even the insects seemed to pause in their labours whilst this strange “rumble” filled everything.

***

Gothrick climbed into bed.  His wife was already asleep. One of the moons of Alfhiem shone through their window and just now his wife’s bare arm, which lay outside of the sheets, glowed like mother of Pearl. Gothrick had always thought himself the luckiest of Elves. He loved his wife and his daughter and his King and Queen. But these days, being the first Elf Guardian since before the war was more than he had thought was possible. 

He got into bed quietly so as not to wake her. As he lay there looking at his wife, he noticed that she seemed a bit blurry and out of focus. He rubbed his eyes but it got worse. The moon set and his wife appeared as elves do in the moonless night, as a figure made of slowly flowing water. Still she seemed blurred to him. He put his hand out to rest on her shoulder as he did most nights. All six of his long elf fingers seemed blurred. It was then he noticed the ripples on her skin, she wasn’t blurred, her skin was rippling as if being shaken very fast. The ripples in her skin seemed to be getting higher and higher. Then he felt it.

***

Scruff finished today's training of the Brownie cadets. As Guardians, Brownies were not necessarily the fastest or strongest or bravest; but they were excellent for reconnaissance. (In case you haven’t come across that word before it means sneaking around and getting information without anyone knowing you're sneaking around getting information except for the people who asked you to sneak around and get information.) The trick to training young Brownies was to make everything a game. Scruff found it getting more exhausting than it used to be. 

As the last of the brownies saluted and left. Scruff took a moment to look around.  The Forests of Bracken never seemed to look the same from one moment to another and she did not want to have to ask directions again; it was getting embarrassing. Scruff decided to try a direction based on the light level and the probable position of Bracken's Sun (which very few brownies had seen). Down here on the floor, though, only the green light, filtered by the eternal canopy of giant leaves miles above, made it through. Scruff leapt into Dream-Space and took a leisurely walk towards where she hoped to find the doorway back to Charley. As she concentrated on it, it appeared clearly before her and she sighed happily. Suddenly the misty greys around her exploded into a mind-numbing jangle of colours and smells.  Dream-Space itself seemed to be coming apart.

***

Dzukaluke and Ghaz’on stood solemnly in their finest clothes. Around them hundreds of Goblins stood smartly attired. They lined the narrow streets of Kapul-Tok city, each holding up a small glowing crystal. From the palace, a cart appeared. The cart was ancient, made by the same Goblin craftsman of ages past who twisted the gold and platinum braids of the palace gates. Like the palace gates, the cart was inlaid with precious metals which glowed in the light of the gems.

Before the cart, pulling it gently along, a flightless bird, its plumage a pure ivory, walked regally forward. Upon its back, Burgh sat stiff and proud. Zie too sparkled in ancient ceremonial armour. On Zie's breast, a very special crystal sat. It had no internal light of its own, but reflected and amplified the light of all the stones it passed, painting the houses and streets with rainbow hues.  

Behind Zie, upon the cart, in a simple box of whitewashed wood, the old one took that final journey which all creatures must take sooner or later. All of Kapol-Tok grieved his passing and it seemed to those gathered that the very ground shook along with them in mourning.

***

On the tors, the Chairman paced back and forth. The ground had stopped shaking and normality was returning.  High above a Kestrel cry broke the silence. He reached out with his mind. To the east he could feel Scruff had returned, to the south he could feel Bailey. To the northwest there was a crazy mixture of thoughts and feelings which he recognised as Tipsy and Tumble, the Guardians of Osgathorpe. But to the west, a new scent reached him, like a jolt of fresh cold clean air when you’re in a musty room.  

He ran westward, not risking Dream-space for fear of losing the sent. Carefully he crossed the Abbey road. A fork from the main Fault lay directly underneath and he could feel it as he passed over, like a great pressure in his forehead, a dam ready to burst. The scent was strongest at the top of the rise. A huge tor of stones were thrust up here. The south side was partly buried beneath the thin soil. On the north side they stood a clear twenty feet tall, and at the feet of the rocks, the melting snow had created a small pool. The Chairman stood before it, the smell of clear mountain air filling his lungs, making him feel young again. As he stood there, the ground shook again and a crack, barely visible before, began to widen. The Chairman felt no danger. From the crack, bright daylight shone out. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust.  

When they did, he saw that the tor had become two mighty cliffs. Behind them was a range of mountains far higher and colder than he had ever seen or dreamed of. But more surprising still was the figure who stood between the two cliffs, holding them apart with her bare strength: The Giantess (for the chairman had no better words to describe her) stood at least sixteen feet tall and was dressed in furs and armour with a mighty cloak.  

“I only have till the waters run out,” The Giantess said. Only then did the chairman notice that the waters, which had pooled at the bottom of the tor, were now running through the gap.

“What can I do?” asked the Chairman.

“Bailey and Scruff must be at the, what was it called … the Back Book Ressewer?” said The Giantess.

“The Black Brook Reservoir?” asked the Chairman.

“Yes, that was what they said, The Black Brook Reservoir. They must be there tomorrow at dusk,” said The Giantess. She grunted as the cliffs closed in on her. She turned sideways, bracing the closing gap with her knee and pressing with all her might.

“But why? I must tell them why,” said the Chairman.

“Because if not, the earthquakes will destroy everything, everywhere and everywhen,” said The Giantess. The last drops of the pool disappeared and The Giantess leapt out of the crack on her side. Before the tor snapped shut, she called out: “They must go alone.”

A moment later the tor looked as it had done for as long as the Chairman could remember, but far beneath him the ground grumbled.