I like adverbs.

There, I said it.

I am well aware that most writers cut adverbs out of their writing, and rightly so. Most of the time adverbs are useless, adding nothing to the feel of the story. However, there are times when adverbs can add a great deal to a story, and the overall feel of it. I’m not talking about one of your romance novels or one of your crime dramas. No, they follow a solid structure and have a rigid set of rules. I don’t write like that.

What are rules really, if they cannot be broken every now and again? I’m not talking about all out anarchy, or stupidity, like building a bonfire out of grammar, or building a house with adverbs. That quite simply would not work. I’m talking about understanding the rules, studying them so you know why they are there and then ignoring them because you know better.

I used a lot of adverbs in The Most Ferocious of Creatures for a reason. The reason being was to create a special feeling for the reader - a feeling of silliness, fun and freedom, which is often missing in today’s mad world. My characters, especially Mrs Lambsbottom, take the reader deeper into the silliness, enhancing the overall feel of the book.

Another rule I so brutally and blatantly broke in The Most Ferocious of Creatures, was to add bits of information into the story that do nothing to move the story on.

“Oh no! Why would he do that?”

You may think that the reader is then wasting all of that time reading about this and about that, when it does absolutely nothing for them.

But you’re wrong.

So mightily and insanely wrong.

In a similar way, Time Travelling Dino’s contains back stories of characters that are insignificant to the main plot. Although this may slow the story down a little, its purpose is to show that no one is insignificant. Everyone has their own part to play, even the bad guys. I also like to fool my reader and keep them on their toes but we’ll keep that just between the two of us, if you don’t mind.

All in all, the side information offers a lot for the reader, especially a young reader. In general: it offers a new perspective on things, it helps build creativity and it encourages the reader to see what is not just in front of them, but what is behind that as well. It offers so much in fact, I quite frankly don’t have the time to write about it in detail.

But let me try and explain a little:

Before I started writing any of my books, I decided that I wanted the words to drive the story. Now, that may sound silly. Of course words drive stories. Words are the taxi drivers, the limo drivers, the pilots, the captains, and so on, of stories. As such, they lead the reader from one exciting adventure onto the next. But if the words are the drivers, then the plot must be the vehicle.

What I tried to do was to every now and again take away the vehicle. Obviously there is still a journey (and a good one at that) but we don’t always need to be travelling in vehicles. I mean, just think about global warming and all that money you could save. You may not travel as far as you would like but you will stop and enjoy the little things in life. And you will realise that those little things are not as little as you first thought. They are what make you happy. They are what fill the world with joy. And they are everywhere.

Without a vehicle, you may think that the drivers would be out of work - unemployed and living on the barren pages of a book, not a life I would wish upon anyone.

BUT NO, wait a minute...

...those drivers are uniting, not in a union to fight that horrible author, their boss, but in a formation. Weaving together, they’re singing songs of beauty and wonder. Casting spells left, right and centre, the once-upon-a-time-drivers make you feel like you are alive. You are alive, of course, but you had forgotten about that for so long you were scared to stop, at least I was.

Well, now you have, you’ve stopped.

And now you realise that this stopping business might not actually be going anywhere.

That’s because it isn’t. We don’t always have to be going somewhere.

But then, as the words begin to slow, and the beauty and the wonderment begin to fizzle, the dancers don their caps.

“Where to?” They ask in unison.

And you want to tell them of a place that made you feel a certain way. But the name of that place has wandered from your mind. You can describe the feeling it gave you but not where it is.

“Sorry, I dunno that place, love.” The drivers speak in one voice.

“Just take me anywhere,” the comforting words leave your mouth.

And they do.