The school visit is part and parcel of the life of a children's author. Some of us perform a seemingly impossible amount, near constantly travelling out to the furthest reaches of the country and beyond. I've been doing them since my first book came out in 2008 - nearly 20 years' worth of school corridors, draughty halls, cheese sandwiches on trains, and malfunctioning technology. (I once had to give a talk to 600 children with the Powerpoint on my laptop, as the projector had broken). Anyone who thinks an author's life is sedentary should spend some time with the most energetic of us.
We do it for a number of reasons: my primary purpose is to try to convey a love of reading and literature which, in this sad, digital age, seems ever dwindling in the pupil population. Of course, there's also the promotional element: though you're not going to sell masses of books (unless you're visiting a hundred schools a year), you do hope that you might make an impression on at least one child who'll go on to become a fan.
Literature, and a love of it, is something I spend a lot of time promoting. It can seem impossible in a world dominated by Love Island, computer games and vaping. Sometimes it can feel you're not getting anywhere. But a week or so ago, I received a message, which I will reproduce here in full (I have permission from the writer):
"Apologies if this is out of the blue but I remember you visited my primary school about ten years ago and spoke to us about being an author and your book ‘The Broken King’. I still have a signed copy of that book that you gave us and it was one of the first fantasy novels I read and enjoyed. That assembly is part of what sparked my love of reading and, in turn, writing. I’m now at university in my third year of my English literature degree, having written two novels of my own over lockdown. I think you had a big influence on this decision and this passion in my life so I just wanted to reach out and say thank you and I hope that you’re well."
I was very touched by this, for two reasons. The school was St Aidan's in Essex, and I remember it as a very happy visit: a lovely, small school in a semi-rural area; engaged teachers, and lively, fun children with plenty of inventive and imaginative ideas and questions. I still mention it when I talk about the perfect school visit. The second reason is that I was always very fond of The Broken King, a weird fantasy novel about a boy whose sister gets snatched away to another realm (out of print now, despite having found many readers), and it's good to hear that a book has an afterlife, even when it's vanished from public view.
Most importantly, to hear that even ten years later, that visit not only is still remembered by one of the children, but that it sparked a love of reading and a passion for literature, is to feel that it was all worth it: every long train journey, every indifferent teacher, every misbehaving child, every exhausted drive home. Because visiting a school is not about the author: it's about the school. We authors should continue to visit as many as we can - because there will be children in that classroom for whom it's life-changing.
And if any teachers are reading this: I'll be posting a blog soon about how you can make your author visit work as smoothly as possible.
