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Interview With Miriam Moss

Miriam was born in an army ambulance in England but left two months later to grow up in Africa, China and then in the Middle East. By the time she was eleven she'd been to eleven schools and had green hair (from too much swimming), so she was sent back to a boarding school in England where she played a lot of lacrosse and sat dreaming out of cold windows.

Eventually she escaped to university and afterwards taught English for 8 years before having her own children and becoming a writer. She has written over 70 children's books, mostly picture books and poetry.

Miriam lives in Lewes, East Sussex with her three children, two cats, two dogs and one husband. Before work every morning she walks on the hills under big skies to wake up her imagination. Then she goes to work in her triangular shed at the bottom of the garden with her feet resting on the animals asleep under the desk.

Do you know any really bad jokes?

What 's brown and sticky?

A stick. (?%*&@!)

How old were you when you wrote your first story?

It must have been when I was about 5 - when I first

learnt to write.

Can you stand on one leg, pat your head and rub

your tummy at the same time?

Strangely I can. So now I'm trying to stand on my

head and de-flea the dog while I tap this to you.

What inspired you to become a writer?

My mother's early death, although I've only just

realised.

What is your favourite animal?

The slithy toves in Jabberwocky because of their

lime green eyelashes.

How many books have you written?

I've written about two million, but have only had 75

published.

Are you frightened of spiders?

No, but I am afraid of people who behave like them.

How long does it take you to write a book?

The first draft can arrive quickly, but the final book

only comes after weeks or months of sculpting.

Do you have an all-time favourite book?

I have several that I love to dip into for inspiration,

but the one I'm really in love with is my battered old

dictionary.

Do you have an all-time favourite poem?

I have several written by my favourite poets:

Shakespeare, Coleridge, Keats and Mervyn Peake.

Which are your favourite biscuits?

Dog biscuits.

Do you illustrate your own work?

No, I'm not THAT clever!

Do you write with a pen, or do you use a computer?

First I write with a pen and then I put it on

computer. Then I print it out and edit by pen and

then on computer, and then by pen and then by

computer, and then by pen and then by computer,

and then by pen and then by computer ……..…. and

when my pen runs out and the computer crashes - I

know it's cooked.

What is your favourite word?

I usually wake up with a weird word on my mind.

Today it was mollusc.

If you had not become a writer, which job do you

think you would be doing now?

I'd be an English teacher who was an Olympic sky

diver on the quiet.

Do you have a favourite writer?

Mervyn Peake. Imagine not just being a brilliant

writer, but a wonderful artist and poet too.

Do you have to be brainy to be a writer?

No. But you do have to have an imagination.

Do you have any sensible or not-so-sensible advice for

young poets and writers?

Extremely Sensible Advice: Make up your own

words when other people's won't do. If you're ever

stuck look around you - the world is full of words.

Read your writing out loud because mistakes

shelter in silence. Keep practising and don't give

up.

Not-So-Sensible Advice: Copy, steal, abduct, hold

hostage all words and ideas regardless of who they

think they belong to. Use a dictionary as a pillow, it

could put words in your mouth.

From Scritch Scratch

(A little louse arrives at school...and gives the teacher nits)

One day

a tiny insect,

no bigger than a small freckle,

climbed into Miss Calypso's classroom.

Nobody noticed....

The little louse got to work straight away,

sticking one tiny white egg to each hair on Miss Calypso's head.

(And while the little louse worked she hummed a happy tune.)

Oh...No one knows from where I came,

A nit, a nibbler with no name,

But watch the teacher scritch and scratch,

When my creepy crawly family hatch.

©Miriam Moss

From The Horse Girl

All summer, with the silver ridges of the wide sea rippling behind her, Freya cut turf from the hillside. Little by little she shaped her huge horse, uncovering the white chalk beneath the grass. And, as the lines of the horse grew, Freya thought she heard neighing and felt the ground vibrate with impatient hoofs. Each summer evening when swallows swept the valley, and later in autumn when the long shadow pointed east, Freya covered up her hill-carving with cut turf, and told no one.

©Miriam Moss

From Miriam's latest book:

Jungle Song

Deep in the jungle where cathedral trees

Rise like pillars with flickering leaves.

From the break of day in the cool half-light,

The jungle sings all through the night.

The rain beats down in a thrumming roar,

A dead-eyed, heavy-weight anaconda

Uncoils herself to the sound of thunder.

In the depths of dusk the sloth snores on

While the frog and toad beat out their song.

There's the drum of hoof and the pad, pad, pad

As the panther prowls dark velvet clad.........

©Miriam Moss

To visit Miriam's website -click here

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