John Marsden - Biography

John Marsden is known as one of Australia’s best known teen authors, has produced some of Australia’s best loved books and is also recognized as being a highly acclaimed picture book writer. Marsden is the author of a collection of widely popular novels, some including The Tomorrow Series, So Much to Tell You, Creep Street and The Ellie Chronicles. The Tomorrow Series, including 7 fantastically written books, was surveyed amongst 40,000 people as being Australia’s fourth favourite book of all time and quoted by the Daily Advertiser as, ‘...without a doubt the best series for young readers that an Australian writer has ever produced’.

John Marsden was born in Victoria, Australia, in 1950 on the 27th September. His father was a bank executive who fought with distinction in World War One while his mother was a strong person who believed in the value of education and she did everything possible to give her children successful starts in their career. Marsden was the third of four children and spent much of his childhood growing up in rural Australia, moving from Victoria to Tasmania and finally to Sydney.

Marsden went to many primary schools and from grade 4 his teachers were encouraging him to become a writer. At the age of ten he attended The King’s School Parramatta, a strict military school in Sydney, and stayed at the school for the next 7 years. Upon completion of his high schooling, Marsden began a Law/Arts degree at the University of Sydney, and worked in a variety of jobs, at a mortuary, in a sideshow, as a security guard, at abattoirs, hospitals, morgues and even a haunted house. But Marsden grew a sense of alienation and loneliness, deriving from family rifts, educational experiences and his own personality, resulting in his dropping out of University and eventually being admitted to a psychiatric hospital. John went on to become an English teacher, where he accidently began the success of his career by writing a short novel for his disinterested yr 9 English students.

John Marsden writes about universal themes and situations. He often writes about being confined, like in his books Checkers, Letters from the Inside, So Much to Tell You and The Great Gatenby. In many of his books, the main character or characters often reflect on themselves personally, and analyse the behaviour of themselves and those around them. This is common behaviour for someone being confined to do, which maybe the reason for his use of describing confinement. Marsden often creates cliff-hangers and suspenseful or surprising twists to his novels, leaving the reader with a thirst to read further, “The reader is unwittingly flung headlong and gasping into the plot.. the images created are so vivid that they stay with you long after the book is reluctantly closed on the final page” – Melbourne Herald-Sun. He has abandoned the rule of ‘edit as you go’, but instead prefers to write at full throttle, not worrying about editing until he had completed the book. Marsden also tends to write from a female perspective and with much emotion and feeling. It’s his personal touch and reflections on the situation that helps to connect the reader, and his ability to create the reality of the event that differentiates him from many other well-known authors.

Marsden’s first book, So Much to Tell You, was published in 1987 at age 37, and took him a mere three weeks to write. His landmark Tomorrow Series is recognised as the most popular book series for young adults ever written in Australia and describes the personal journey of a group of teenagers and the perils they must face to save their home and their loved ones. The book has been translated and published all over the world and won numerous awards including The Alan Marshall Award, The Christopher Medal (USA) and the National Children’s Book Award (Australia). The first book of this series, Tomorrow When the War Began, has been reprinted 26 times in Australia. Free copies of Tomorrow When the War Began were distributed to hundreds of thousands of Swedish teenagers, after it was selected by their peers as the book reluctant readers would be most likely to enjoy. In Australia alone, a country of less than 20 million people, John has sold over two and a half million books, making him a hugely successful and celebrated author.

John Marsden is an extremely talented writer and possesses a passionate and creative spirit. He has always been determined, with a will to encourage the creativity and honesty of the youth of today. He exposes his readers to the more intimidating or feared aspects in the world – such as war, and deals with them in a personal and eye-opening way. Marsden’s ability to connect with the readers and provide a realistic atmosphere to his stories is one that many writers dream to have been gifted with. John Marsden is and forever will be, a legendary author.

Wish upon a Silver Fish

For our english homework we have to write a short story about one of the poems we have studied in class. I based my story on the poem 'Looking Glass River' by Robert Louis Stevenson ~

Wish upon a Silver Fish

It was the perfect moment, perfect place, perfect timing. My heart was pacing so fast I felt as if it would pop out of my chest any second. The butterflies in my stomach were desperately flapping for air, and I flet a sensational, warm shiver up my spine. His lips pressed against my cheek, so soft and sweet.





"Mel, that was the best kiss ever", he smiled.





His name was Jase and he was the most interesting person I had ever met. He was a year older than me, 17. His eyes were a beautiful opal colour with skeckled blues, aquas and greens. Will's hair was dark, and fell in tiny ringlets under his ears. But it was personality I had fallen in love with, he was a gentlemen, kind and caring, funny and patient.



Will and I had known eachother since we could walk, and we'd both been raised in the remote mountain village, Honeybee Valley, named after it's wide abundance of honey bees.



He took hold of my hand and smiled, "There's something I want to show you"



Will's muscular arms lifted me from the ground with complete ease. I had know idea where he was going to lead me, but I trusted him. We were in the rainforest for a picnic that day, and the only sounds that could be heard was the gentle coo of a King Parrot and the cracking of sticks and twigs from the bony feet of a scrub turkey.



As he lead me deeper in into the brush, past the irish green ferns and moss-covered stones, I could just make out the sound of a stream gliding over clean gravel and in between the water reeds.



We arrived in a paradise of sailing blossoms, gleaming water and sleek little martens that dipped their heads in the water in serach of fish.



"Oh Will! This is beautiful!"



"I knew you'd like it", he grinned.



I explored for some time, following my coloured face in the reflection of the water. It was then however, that the silver sparkle of what seemed to be a fish drew me so close to the water that I slipped and fell headfirst into the pool of glass. My fall had caused the water to ripple on the surface and I could see the blurred shadow of Will, racing over to pull me from the glassy bottom of the stream.



I tried desperately to pull myself to the surface but something was dragging me down, the water was much deeper than what I had thought it would be.



For several minutes my mind was blank and I floated helplessly down to the never-ending bottom of the stream to where I could, once again, see that shining silver fish. It's head was narrow and delicately curved, it's scales were twinkling with silver and its tail was so very long that it stretched for almost a metre, curling elegantly at the end.

The fish was only a few feet from me now, floating there as still as a statue. And then that's when I heard it, the soft whipers, not from the fish but from everything in the water - the rocks, the reeds, the guppies.

"This place is a secret place... secrect from humans... it is our home.... our haven... we cannot loose it to humans again... it is the only safe place for us"

I floated in the water, unaware I hadn't taken a breath for 10 minutes. My skin was pale, paler than it usually was let's just say, and I couldn't feel anything, not a single emotion, not shock, astoundment or amazement, nothing.

Still to be continued....

English Paragraph - Why does Sade feel guilty?

In the book 'The Other Side of Truth' Sade is hesitant about talking to the social workers as she does not want to reveal her father's identity, yet it pains her to lie to the kind social workers. "Part of her wanted to tell Mama Appiah the whole truth... But fear stopped her" (p. 85). Sade and her brother Femi are in a difficult position, having to choose between telling the truth and lying to protect their father. Evidence of this is shown when Sade and Femi struggle to explain their past to the social workers, "They couldn't keep silent forever... But what cold she say that was safe?" (p. 75). These pieces of evidence prove to us that it is indeed fear that is stopping Sade from telling the truth, fear for her family's sake. It is a difficult decision for the two children to make, they can either lie to protect their father or confess to secure their future.

story idea # 3

"Almost there Katie, almost there", I reassured my little sister. Her face was a soft red beneath her dirty blond plaits as she limped along beside me, her hand in mine.

The red dust beneath our feet rose in clouds and sweat ran down in little rivers on my burnt, bare flesh.

I noticed the pained expression on Katie's face and flung her over my back. The landscape was so bare - just sky, yellow from the sun and sprinkled with thick red dust.

I felt the weight on my back slip as Katie tumbled from her position to the ground.

"No!", I screamed, "Katie! Please Katie, please wake-up!".

I hadn't the strength to cry but I felt my mixed emotions of anger, betrayal and hurt well up inside of me.

I felt a sudden burst of strength and yanked Katie up over my shoulder. Forcing myself onward, I marched through the desert, over the sand dunes until there in the distance, appeared a image of tree.

I lay Katie up against a rock under the limited shade that the burnt, leafless tree provided and collapsed beside her.

More sunspots, I thought to myself, seeing as we had been travelling for so long in the open sun.

But that was the least of our problems... he was after us.

I gazed about the grounds. Rushing rivers of cool rain ran down the glass windows of the cab and the outside view of the area was blurred, but there was no mistaking the towering, creamy - white image of the institute. The cab driver, Jonathan something, looked back at me and grinned at the nervous expression on my face. Today was the first day I would meet my Uncle Don, who I would be living with until I was old enough to care for myself. Although it was storming violently outside I was dreading the humid atmosphere. My sandy-blond hair stuck to the sweat on my back and my cheeks were a warm red colour in the mirror.

"Well this is it", Jonathan turned toward me, "You ready?"

Jonathan was my uncle's chauffer. He was an older man, his face like a puckered old apple with sagging wrinkles and his thin wisps of grey hair were tucked behind his ear with sticky, clear gel.

"Well out you get", he said irritated, "I don't have all day!"

I stepped out in the crisp, cool air with my umbrella, sheltering me from the thrashing rain that beat on the concrete path before me. The rain slashed at the windows of the institute and bucketed from the roof's gutter. Minute cubes of hail smashed into tiny, crystallized pieces on the path but the building of white now seemed more visible. It wasn’t exactly tall but better described as wide, stretching right along the well manicured grounds. At the front, where the gravel road had begun, were the towering wrought-iron gates. There were neatly kept shrubs and chalk statues of naked angels along the path to were the ivy-coloured walls of the building began.

Jonathan came up beside me with my only bag, a small blue patterned one with spirals and wheels at the bottom.

“Thank-you”, I said quietly. We walked along hurriedly together out of the rain to the glass door. Strange, I thought, while the door was glass nothing could be seen from the inside. Jonathan pulled the door, the wrinkles around his neck stretched out and face showed a tinge of red.

I blinked in disbelief, it was like nothing I had seen before.

the institute

The Institute

Characters: - Maria (16)
- Dr Strolk (David - doctor)
- Clarice Munt (doctors assistant)
- Nutball (dog)

Setting: An institute - modern and complex

Plot:

Beginning - Maria arrives at uncles house, explores the institute

Middle - Maria starts to notice first signs of her uncles 'evil plans'

End - Maria confirms her uncles plans and proves to everyone what's going on

new story idea

Hi everybody! I had a new idea for a story called 'the institute' which is about a doctor who discovers how to make clones human organs. He uses these organ clones as back-ups for people in case they end up needing another heart or lung, ect. He becomes very rich as many people start to buy these spare organs however what they don't know is that when the doctors cloned organs are inserted into the body they cause another organ to stop working meaning they'll have to buy another and another and another. The doctor is a selfish man and plans this in order to make more money.

Anyway, when his niece, Maria Monty, comes to visit his 'institute' she is first to discover what is really going on behind the white walls of the institute. Only problem is.. how does a 16 year old girl tell the world that they're all bying faulty organs and spending millions?

Story part 2 -

"What the hell is going on here?"

Maria's father came pushing past everyone standing in the door, his face was an illuminous red and his eyes, though usually a hazel shade, were a strict black.

Maria looked up worryingly at her father from the horses side, a tall man, small spectacles, rough mouse-brown hair and spotted, fair skin. Maria had been given her mothers looks - fair-skinnned, sandy-blond hair, emerald green eyes and ears that stuck out from the side of her head.

"I'm not sure Mr Monty, but it's Green Dreamer, her leg's been wounded. I don't know if it's from the storm or, if I must say... to me it appears a gun shot wound."

Maria's body felt numb. She was shaky and for some reason she found it considerably hard to swallow the saliva that had collected together in her mouth.

Mat bent down to investigate the wound. Using his naked hands he pulled from the wound a bullet, silver and discoloured due to the covering of fresh blood.

He shut his eyes for a few brief moments and then rose from his knees and hurried back out through the stables.

Maria followed after him.

"Dad, why are you walking away from an injured horse, what's going on?"

Her father did not pause to talk, instead he continued to his office.

Maria entered behind him.

"What the heck is going on dad? For god sake tell me!"

Mat looked at his daughter frustratingly. Then he shook his head and stood up.

"I'll tell you what's going on. Someone's trying to hurt the horses, and us. They're just trying to threaten us, but we're smarter than them and we will beat them."

Story beginning #1

The horses were unsteady in the paddocks. The storm had struck so suddenly that no-one had thought to collect them. Maria was in her room when she heard the first distressed whinny.

"Get them in!", called Donald, the stable hand. While his voice had always been hoarse it sounded somewhat shaky and distressing.

The rain slashed at the windows and bucketed from the roofs gutter. Golf-ball sized Hail smashed into tiny, crystallized pieces on the concrete path.

Maria rolled hesitantly from her bed. She had been working all day in the scorching heat, her face was a soft, rosemary red and her sandy blond hair was still sticking to the sweat on her neck. All she had wanted was a quick nap before she would have to start another feeding round at the stables.

"What now?", she moaned, stumbling to the window and tugging at the blinds. The glass was covered in cool, rushing rivers of rain that collected in small pools at the corner of the house's outside wall.

The stable hands were rushing fiercely through the rain & hail, horses being pulled on lead-ropes and abandoned at the nearest available shelter.

Maria could hear shouting and calling above the thrashing of the rain and rumble of the furious, grey clouds that clumped together in the sky.

She was suddenly awake and grabbing her coat the 16 year old bolted out the door to the main stable block.

In one particular stall a crowd of worried faces stood at the door. Maria pushed her way through the crowd, while she was not particularly tall and could not see past the many heads she could clearly tell the sound of her fathers most trusted employee, Jonathan.

"What's going on?", she asked before appearing to a chestnut mare by the name Acorn. The mare was covered in thick, creamy white sweat and was on the ground, panting furiously. Her foreleg revealed a gaping red wound, dark scarlet blood leaking uncontrollably from her leg.

Jonathan looked up at Maria. Jonathan was quite handsome, he was older but his thin wisps of jet black hair and soft dark blue eyes made him singularly attractive. Maria's mother and father, Kim and David Monty, had hired Jonathan with great pleasure for his charisma and extended knowledge of horses and racing.

"Maria, I think you ought to fetch your father..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Poetry through song - Taylor Swift

I think using song and lyrics to create a poem is a really engaging and interesting way of captivating the reader. Many songwriters create poems through their music, one of these people being Taylor Swift – a very successful young songwriter and singer.

Many of her songs are almost like poetry and she uses different poetic techniques in her songs. One of the techniques she uses often is rhyme – one of the strongest poetic techniques. She also uses personification, assonance & alliteration through her songs.

E.g.

Corey's eyes are like a jungle

He smiles, it's like the radio

He whispers songs into my window, in words that nobody knows

There's pretty girls on every corner,that watch him as he's walking home

Saying, does he know.. Will you ever know?

You're beautiful, every little piece, love

Don't you know, you're really gonna be someone? Ask anyone

A Rose for the ANZAC Boys:

This is a really lovely and heartwarming story. It is another fantastic novel from Jackie French about a young 16 year old girl and her friends who start a free canteen in London to escape the boredom of boarding school, offering meat, hot drinks, breads and medical help. Midge, her nickname everyone calls her by, then starts to help drive the emergency vehicles and ambulance cars as she is one of the only women that can drive. Midge learnt to drive out on her old farmm named Glen Donal, a sheep farm in NZ.

While I am only half way through this book it is a wonderful novel, very detailed and well researched. The saddest part so far would have to be when Captain Harry dies.

You see, Midge meets this lovely young man at the bakery, a captain, who she falls in love with (and he falls in love with her too!). One day he plans to visit her on her birthday when he unexpectedly gets called in at the front and killed in action :( Midge is terribly upset but still she moves on, continues to work hard and I am up to the bit where she meets another lovely young man, a friend of Captain Harry, who also becomes her good friend and penpal!

The secret world of wombats

"Underneath your feet is a strange world... a world of wombats!"

The secret world of wombats is an interesting book from Jackie French giving you the low-down on wombats. Jackie French lived with wombats for many years and she quotes 'They are my muse'.

Year 8

Hi everyone,

In the future, on this blog, I will be posting a lot of English stories and other shorts I have written! :)

Year 8 2010

Hi everyone!!

Welcome to 2010!!

I am in 8B this year and our english teacher is Ms Gibson!!