More recently, Tanya has created accessible retellings of classics with publishers, Barrington Stoke, including Jane Eyre and Frankenstein.

Tanya’s sessions are lively as well as being informative, and a group of us were lucky enough to see her at the Cheltenham Literature Festival last year. Whilst at our school, Tanya gave two talks to our Y9 and Y10 students. During the presentations, Tanya reflected on her career, as well as talking about her books and the dyslexia-friendly classics. Tanya started off working in a book shop, but has also worked at Bristol Zoo and has a background in theatre too, now performing one-woman shows.

After speaking to the two year groups, the students were able to ask Tanya questions - these ranged from questions about her two sons, to her favourite books.

Later in the day, Tanya delivered a creative writing workshop to a mixed Y9/Y10 group. The students were attentive and embraced the workshop, producing high quality written pieces.

 

Edward Muzzlewood always ended the day surrounded by green dollar bills. Walls built with the thin, green paper surrounded him, stacks upon stacks, piles upon piles, keeping him from the bland white walls of Daniel Trifflebricks’ office. Still, he sat, finishing the final of his counting with a satisfied smile, securing the bills with a wire clip of his own creation, crafted with the emblem of his fortune- Terisation. Pleased with himself, Edward Muzzlewood rose from his sanctuary, careful not to knock any of his precious towers and began to think of what he’d indulge in for supper. The finest soup from the Philippines or perhaps a taste of that fine steak sent from France. Maybe he’d treat himself to a crumb of that rich, rich trifle from - 

But he didn’t have time to finish that thought, for a wicked breeze entered the room, followed by the soft strike of a match.

Then, Edward and his fortune caught aflame.

By Betsy Jones

 

Patrick laughed and picked up his drink swaying like he was at sea and laughing so loud the other guests thought his stomach would give out. 

“And the Matt, Oh buddy told him it was his,” he said with a gut-wrenching laugh.

“By God champ, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack,” cried Matthew getting up from his seat smiling as he spoke.

“I wish you’d slap some sense into yourself instead of other people at pubs,” he cried chuckling as the other four party guests cried out in joy.

As the guests chatted on in the sitting room, Matthew went out to the kitchen to top up his drink.

“God he’s been out there a while,” said Catherine, a slim woman with broad shoulders.

“I better go check on him,” she cried excusing herself from the other guests. 

Then the screaming started.

“Someone call the hospital, he’s had an accident.”

The guests walked in to find a standing Olivia and Matthew Smith lying in a pile of glass.

“He’s dead!” screamed Alan from the front of the crowd.

By Jorja Holpin