The Road Ahead

Thank you all for joining us on this exciting journey as we created our Young Adult Literature Anthology. We've certainly all had fun and learned a lot along the way. Sadly our time together has come to an end. But this is really just the beginning!

If you've enjoyed reading our stories and thoughts over the past few months we think you'll be interested in following some of our authors as they begin their adventures out in the wide world!

Leena ~

Leena's Book Blog

Leena's YouTube Channel

Amy ~

Amy's Travel Blog

Click HERE for information on all the authors

The Camping Trip - A Short Thriller

The Camping Trip

By Amy Baumhoefner

I take a deep breath and the crisp air fills my lungs. It had taken some cajoling but finally Mel had convinced me into escaping for a weekend camping trip. Now that we are out here I can’t regret it. I haven’t felt this free in months.

‘Where did you say this campsite was at?’ I ask.

Before us lays a fork in the road. Mel glances down at the map, and then up at our two options, ‘It should be up here.’ Mel is always so certain about everything, she’s gotten me into trouble before; but I need her. I don’t know what I’d do without her—probably hide in my room, refusing to face the world. Leaves rustle as a light breeze whispers through the woods; a shiver runs down my spine. I shift my backpack, trying to relieve the pressure of the straps digging into my shoulders.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’

‘What do you mean?’ Mel knows what I’m talking about, but I can tell she’d rather not discuss it.

‘We didn’t even tell Jane,’ I point out.

‘She would’ve tried to stop us and I needed a break.’

‘Maybe she should have stopped us.’

Short Story: Countless Songs

A short story piece by Victor Lockwood that is the second part of a series entitled 

'Neighborhood Short Stories'

Read part one: "The World of Blank Pages"

Countless Songs

By Victor Lockwood

And so here I am. Settling in the Neighbourhood. Finally.

The capital N is important, because without it that wouldn't be a good story to tell. With it, however... Oh, hang on, you do know what the Neighbourhood is, right? Mmh. Those of you who have been brought up by a pack of wolves and just arrived to the city (it also goes for those who learned to climb up trees by stepping on a panther's muzzle), and those of you who just came back from a fruitless mission to find a stain on a Swiss tablecloth, all of you, listen up, it is time for a heads up. To all the others, I apologise. This was not part of the plan, but as I'm sure you can understand, my story's worthless for a reader who doesn't get what the capital N is here for... It's a question of fairness, for everybody to have a chance to enjoy what they are reading. You can skip the following bit, by the way, it's absolutely fine with me. I'll see you later. Again, so sorry.

Review - The Rithmatist

A Review of The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson

By Amy Baumhoefner

Last month I had to spend a night trapped in the Charles de Gaulle Airport as I waited for my family to join me in Paris. Knowing this experience was ahead of me, I was spurred on to find a book on my Nook (it’s Barnes & Noble's eReader, if you didn’t know that) to read which would hold my attention all night while becoming more and more sleep deprived. Though I am an avid reader this was a tall task even for me.

As I struggled to find the right book Barnes and Noble’s website kindly made a suggestion – The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson. This YA book was on the list of new releases which their editors suggest. Usually this does not sway me (They touted Beautiful Creatures and I’ve never, in my entire life, been more bored after plodding through one hundred pages of a YA novel). But after reading the description I tipped my head to the side—my traditional look of consideration—‘hum’ed and clicked to get the free sample.

Launch Event

After weeks of planning the Read Me: An Anthology Book Launch Event finally happened! With only a few bumps in the road (such as Sarah Crossan being unable to attend due to illness, one of the readers thinking the event started at 6 not 2, starting with not enough chairs at the venue, and Amy potentially having a fever) it all went off quite well. It's all about rolling with the punches, you know?

If you haven't gotten your copy of the anthology is isn't too late!
Message us on Facebook - they are only £5 (plus any shipping fees that may be incurred if we can't deliver it in person)

This isn't the end - it's just the beginning. 

Keep checking back here for original stories, book reviews, and our reflections on the art of YA writing! 

Take a look at the pictures from the event!

The Girl Who Cried Boy - Part Three

You've waited patiently (and maybe not so patiently) for more.

Enjoy the next installment of Mya's story

Go back and read her story from the beginning:

The Girl Who Cried Boy - Part One

The Girl Who Cried Boy

By Emily Simpson

Three

I’m late to meet him so I break into a run, my bare feet slapping against the cobbled streets of town. The hands on my watch are spinning; time leaks away from me like a smashed hourglass, but I keep on running. I have to keep on running.

Wait for me, I say, under my breath.

When I make it to the cliff top I get my first glimpse: he’s on the beach below, like I knew he would be, waving up at me. Somehow his face is magnified and I see every tiny freckle, every strand of messy red hair as if the sunset has spilled over onto him. His eyes are wide with expectance, their moisture flashing in the light. And then he shrinks back into scale.

“I’m coming,” I call out to him, beginning my descent down the steps. “Wait there!”

Your Relationship with Writing

By Lorna Dawson

At the start of this year, I would never have stood up in front of twenty eleven to fifteen year olds and told them to “draw writing as a person” and then write to the person that they created.

So what changed?

I have written almost all my life, to the extent that I’d “write” on the walls behind the sofa in crayons when I could barely walk and was small enough to fit in the gap. But it never struck me to ask myself why I write …. until this year.