Skellig holds a special place in my heart. It (or the paperback anyway) was published in 1998. My older daughter, H, was eleven. We were going on our first foreign holiday and I’d gone to Ottakar’s (remember that?) to buy some books for my daughters. H was all Jacqueline Wilsonned-out, needed something new. I picked up a chunky book with a title that took my fancy, read the first page and discarded it. Not what I was looking for. Not interesting enough. Picked up a slimmer one, although actually H definitely didn’t need something on the basis of its slimness. I probably picked it up because it had a recommendation sticker on the shelf.

The slimmer one was Skellig[image error]. Read the first page. Interesting. Bought it.

Went on holiday. H finished Skellig quickly and told me I HAD to read it. I think that was the first time my daughter had told me I HAD to read a book. I did and I loved it.

At the time, I’d been trying and failing (for nearly 20 years) to write publishable literary fiction for adults. I came close a few times, too. I’d also tried writing for younger readers but didn’t even bother to submit anything as even I knew it was rubbish. When I read Skellig, I realised what I’d been doing wrong with both the adult and the younger fiction: with the adult fiction, I’d forgotten the importance of plot: I was right up myself with the gorgeousness of my prose; and with the younger fiction I’d thought – stupid woman, and I’m ashamed to this day – that you had to write simple, that only plot mattered and that language only had to be clear. I didn’t know you could write deep, that you could mess around with words and do things with them. I’d thought you had to tell young readers stuff. I know. I’m sorry.

I came back from that holiday and started writing what became Mondays are Red, my first novel, for teenagers. It quickly got me an agent and then a publisher. But look what else it got me!

Skellig is THE book I’d recommend to young readers wanting to move into teenage fiction (though Skellig is age-defying not age-defining) in the most inspirational, imaginative, word-sparkly way. It represents what is so great about writing for teenagers: they have an adult appreciation of language with a child’s free-flying imagination.

And the chunky book with the intriguing title, the one I discarded as not being interesting enough? You might have heard of it: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It would have been a first edition.

Honestly, I’d rather have my signed Skellig.

Buy Skellig here[image error] or in a physical bookshop.