Word Play 2023

Dear friends,

Welcome to Word Play, the book that celebrates playing with words! Come on in, take a good look around. What will you find? Plenty of games to play, pictures to draw, comics to make and stories to read and invent.

Along the way, you may find yourself shipwrecked on a desert island, running with Little Hare in search of the Wildness, or facing terrifying lake monsters! There are also some less terrifying puzzles to solve, anagrams to unscramble and opportunities for some mindful colouring in.

So grab your favourite pencil and crayons and let’s get started!

Word Play book is created by How Brave Is The Wren children’s bookshop as part of the Word Play festival which takes place in Birmingham 5th – 11th June 2023 across schools and at the bookshop. The festival aims to encourage a love of reading, storytelling and writing. It is made in collaboration with a host of brilliant authors, illustrators and publishers whose details you can find on the last page of this book.

Word Play is available as a downloadable PDF during the festival dates from www.howbraveisthewren.com

Illustration, design and cover by Ben Javens www.benjavens.co.uk

This book was made with the generous help of the Arts Council England

For any questions, please email Jenny at hello@howbraveisthewren.com Follow us on our social media:

@how_brave_is_the_wren

@BraveWren

The whole time I was in the sea I managed to keep the gibbon with me, clutching on to her small body and pushing her above water as the waves washed over us. Even as she scratched and bit at my fingers to get away, I held on. If I had let go she would have drowned. By the time we washed up against the shore, she’d run out of energy. I cradled the limp gibbon as I clambered on to the rocks of the island, even though I was shaking and spluttering and coughing. I held on to her through the jungle, right up until I tripped and that was the moment my super strength

disappeared . . . and the gibbon slipped from my fingers. She dropped to the ground and rolled over tree roots and down on to the beach.

I was scared to look and my heart pounded but I forced myself to run after her. I couldn’t have brought her this far just to lose her the moment we made it to land. I raced up to her lying crumpled and motionless on the sand. A tiny black furry body with golden cheeks.

I lifted the gibbon up gently. I thought I felt her breathing as I laid her in the shade on the sand. I knew how to perform CPR. Mum had said it was important to learn. But would CPR work on a gibbon? She was so small. I didn’t want to hurt her.

‘Please don’t be dead,’ I whispered. I remember my words being whisked away on the wind.

Luckily, right at that moment, the gibbon spluttered, opened her eyes and looked at me.

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ I said.

And then the most amazing thing happened. The gibbon climbed into my arms and

Illustrations © Rob Biddulph 2023

wrapped her four long fingers around my index finger and squeezed, as if to say thank you. She looked up at me with big dark eyes. I stayed very still. But then she spotted the trees and let go of my finger. The gibbon threw her long arms into the air above her head and ran into the jungle on two legs. As soon as she reached the low branches, she swung up in to the trees.

‘Don’t go,’ I said softly.

The gibbon didn’t look back. She climbed higher and higher.

‘Please,’ I said. The sound got caught in the back of my throat. ‘Please don’t go. Don’t leave me here alone.’

I even tried to chase her through the thick jungle but she disappeared up into the trees. I made noises with my tongue as if I was enticing a cat down but she didn’t come back. The jungle was silent except for the wind and the birds. My heart sank. There was just me. I’d never felt so lost and alone.

So if you’re reading this, it’s not just me you need to come and save. It’s the gibbon and Vanna too.

Extract from Lost on Gibbon Island by Jess Butterworth

Illustrations © Rob Biddulph 2023

In Lost on Gibbon Island, Lark writes a diary to keep track of her time on Gibbon Island. Pretend you are stranded on the deserted island and write two diary entries below. The first one takes places on day one – how do you feel when you learn you are alone on the island? What actions do you take?

The second entry takes place on day ten – what changes have you made to the island by then? What have you eaten? Have you explored the island? What have you learnt?

Day one:

Day ten:

Spot the hidden words from the list below.

It is winter. There are traces of white on the ground, and pretty patches of sow-bread flowers brightening the roots of the gateway tall-homes. He slinks to a halt and loiters just inside the edge of the old forest. Beyond, there are twisting roots, strands of cobweb stretching from bough to gloomy bough, with no other sign of life . . .

*Apart from the eyes!*

How could he miss them?

The three pairs of amber eyes, glowing in the shadows. Little-Hare bobs up straight away, standing tall on his hind legs, to let these foxes know he has seen them. A signal which warns any hunter that even if they leaped for him now, he would beat them in a race. There is no faster animal across land on this island than a hare, even one as tired as he.

This plan might have worked, except that these watchers are not foxes. Slipping in to the greyish light, these are animals whom the hare did not realise still lived in the further reaches of the Island. No wonder they have stayed hidden, in this faraway forest. But not so hidden now, with their stone-coloured fur and shining eyes, teeth bared as they circle him. Wolves.

The hare doesn’t know if he can outrun these new hunters, so he doesn’t even try, and collapses into a crouch, ears flat, overtaken by an uncontrollable shiver.

*What brings you to Stag Wood, stranger?* growls one.

*State your business,* says another.

*And quick, for we are hungry,* adds the last.

The hare glances at each one in turn, taking in their size and strength.

*My name is Little-Hare, small for my kind . . .* he begins, and they snicker.

*What a shame. I was hoping for more than a snack,* murmurs the third, padding closer to sniff the cowering hare. His muzzle is starting to grey. But Little-Hare has not come this far to be eaten so soon.

*And I bring urgent news, from the wild of Dandelion Hill, in the south.*

*Very well,* sneers the first wolf. *Tell us your news, and if it is interesting, we will give you a head start, before we rip you limb from limb.*

Little-Hare shakes his head. *I am under strict orders to speak to your Wildness only.*

He leaps back, a pair of jaws snapping in his face.

*We are the Guardians of this wild! We decide who speaks to our Wildness!*

The second wolf is nearly upon him.

Little-Hare can feel her weight, her breath and heat, ready to consume him in an instant. For a moment, he feels death, a night-black smoke coiling around his paws, leaching into his fur, and he shudders.

At the same time, he remembers. He has seen death before. In fact, he and death know each other well, even if they are not exactly the best of friends. What are these wolves, compared to the wave of horror that follows fast behind him, tha can

outrun any hare or wolf, smothering them in one instant under its dark crest?

He looks up, his damp head trembling, to meet the wolf’s eye. The Guardian pauses, puzzled. This is not typical hare behaviour. Hares should be wary and quick. This one is stubborn and sullen.

*Get out of my way,* says Little-Hare.

The wolf throws her head back, howling with laughter. *I’m sorry, what did you say?*

*I said, get out of my way.*

The other wolves join in the laughter, shaking with mirth. They are too amused to even tear his soft belly open with their claws, as they were about to.

*Give us one good reason why we should,* says the first wolf.

Little-Hare is not laughing. His watchful amber eyes never leave the wolves for a second. He sighs, and delivers the message that has been burning in his belly since he left the valley he called home.

*Because our world is about to end. There is nothing you wolves can do to stop the enemy chasing me. I was chosen, I tried, and . . . your wild is my last chance. Our last chance. So unless you want to die, get out of my way. Now.*

Then, before they can reply, he is off, bounding further and further into the deep oak wood.

For he is not just any hare. He is the hare of all hope.

Extract from The Wild Before Text © Piers Torday, 2021

Illustrations © Thomas Flintham, 2021

Reprinted with kind permission from Quercus Children’s Books

Rewrite the story you have just read from the point of view of the wolves.

See what funny things or characters you can make with each of these letters, using a pen and your imagination.

Brian’s naughty new friend is causing mischief so all the starfish are hiding from him. Can you spot all 5 of them? Read all about Brian’s adventures in A Duck Called Brian by Al Murphy published by

Finish this story by writing what happens next or...

Once upon a time, there was a ferocious dragon called Bernard who only liked...

... maybe you’d prefer to draw the rest of this story instead?

What’s your favourite noise? What’s the best sound around?

What would you choose from all the world’s whoops and fizzes and gurgles and BOOMS?

A space rocket zoom or popping balloons?

Tiger sneezes or seaside breezes?

A brilliant burp, the honk of a goose, or the slurp of your straw with one last sip of juice?

It could be the crunch of a cornflake mid-munch.

Or are yours the sort of ears to cheer the soft-as-silk sounds?

The swoosh of a cloud, the shush of a secret, the creak of trees, hum of bees, swish of a grasshopper rattling its knees. Or even the hush that hangs when everything STOPS.

(Listen.) So what do you think? What’s the best sound around? A raindrop’s plink, an ocean’s roars, a hippo’s snores?

The choice (of course) is yours.

‘Pick a sound, any sound’ by Kate Wakeling from A Dinosaur at the Bus Stop published by Otter-Barry Books

These word don’t look quite right. Can you unscramble them to find out what they are?

Answers: pages, write, novel, pencil, picture, library, comic, artist, book, drawing.

Once, there were twins who lived in a great big .

One day they woke up early and exclaimed: “today is going to be the best day ever because today is .” And with that they jumped out of bed, put on their __________________________,,, washed and brushed their and went downstairs. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. They ran to see who it could be. They flung open the door and standing there was a . “Hello. Who are you?” asked the twins. “Hello. I am . “What a lovely surprise!” they said. “We’ve never met a before.”

“Please come in, we were just about to eat some delicious that we picked from the .”

“Would you like some?” “Ooh, yes please!” said the visitor. “I’ve never had one of those before.”

Little did anyone know what would happen next. After just one tiny bite, the visitor started to and became quite . “Oh no,” said the twins. “What have we done?”

At that moment, their mother came in from the . She saw what was happening and started to chuckle. “Don’t laugh! It’s not funny!” said the twins. “Ah, but you see,” said their mother “didn’t you know? When a eats any kind of __________________________, , they always .

That is what is so surprising about them.” “Oh!” said the twins. “Now we know!” and they all began to laugh, snort and giggle at the surprising day today had been. The End.

Fill in the gaps to finish this story.

Every day we feel lots of different emotions: we might feel excited or proud or frustrated, or we might feel more than one thing at the same time - like tired and silly!

When we talk about our emotions we understand them better and that can help us know what to do with them, like when we're feeling sad and we need to ask for a hug.

Monster moods...

Oh no! This monster doesn’t know how it feels!

Perhaps you can help? Can you give them some eyebrows and a mouth? You can copy one of the faces from around the page, or make something up yourself.

Choose one of these six faces to copy onto your monster, or design one of your own.

Now the monster needs colouring in. Choose whatever colour you like. You can use one colour or lots of colours, or you could even cover them in spots or stripes - it’s up to you!

How does your monster feel today? Choose a colour that matches their emotion.

Today, my monster feels:

Use paint, pencils or pens or whatever you like. Be messy - the messier the better! Written and illustrated by Sarah Christou.

by Georgina Wall & Anam Zafar

Make a rhyming poem - and guess the mystery language!

The poem on the opposite page was originally written in a foreign language. We have nearly finished translating it into English but we need your help!

1. Find the foreign language words in the glossary and write them in the blue boxes.

2. Choose a word in any language (or make up a new word!) and write it in the red boxes to make a rhyme.

3. Read your poem aloud and shout out the rhymes!

Bicki - bucki - bun

The stone weighs a ton. Bicki - bucki - boke, Bicki-bucki-biggle, Bicki - bucki - bow,

And that’s no .

Bicki-bucki , My brother’s a bit . But don’t you ! For he will .

Bicki-bucki ,

And then he’ll win.

Can you guess what the mystery language is? Find the answer at the bottom of the page!*

What title would you give this poem? Put your ideas here!

*This language is Latvian. Can you find Latvia on a map? What is the capital of Latvia?

From Bicki Bucki by Jānis Baltvilks & published by Liels und maz in Riga, Latvia. Translated by Žanete Vēvere Pasqualini and Kate Wakeling & published by The Emma Press in Birmingham, UK.

We’ve given you a comic page made of empty frames - all you have to do is fill in the story! But where to start?

Your first picture should show the reader the 3 W’s - Who, Where and What. In other words, a character, in a place, doing something. Some examples of that could be:

- A kid, in a park, skateboarding - A chef, in a kitchen, baking - A dog, in a garden, digging.

What sort of character would YOU like to draw?

Stories are more interesting when exciting things happen! So give your character a problem to deal with. This could be connected to the thing they’re doing, e.g. the chef’s pie comes to life, or not connected at all, e.g. some zombies burst into the room.

Draw your character’s reaction to the problem! Are they scared? Annoyed? Confused?

Now in the next couple of frames, show us what they’re going to do about it. Does the problem get better or worse because of what they did? How does your character feel about that?

You can draw lots of different feelings just by changing the mouth and eyebrows.

Try it for yourself by making faces in a mirror!

You can use words as well as pictures in your story! If you want the reader to know what a character is saying or thinking, you can show it in a speech balloon or thought bubble.

Speech balloons float near the character’s head. The long bit on the bottom points at the character’s mouth (but shouldn’t touch it!)

Thought bubbles look like clouds, and they also float near a character’s head. They can contain words or pictures.

The last frame or two should be your ending. This could be happy, sad, funny or surprising.

And most importantlyhave fun!

There’s no right or wrong way to draw! You can use stick figures if you want.

It’s a good idea to sketch your comic in pencil first, so you can plan where everything will go.

I’M HUNGRY.

NOW IT’S YOUR TURN!

Use Penny Wren’s tips to create your very own comic page.

by Lizzie Huxley-Jones

Chapter One

The problem with growing up listening to bedtime stories about monsters, magic and myth is that you don’t really question it when a lake summons you.

The lake, my lake, is calling to me, and has been for about a week. It’s a pull in my chest, a gnawing in my brain. I couldn’t tell you how I know it’s the lake, but I feel it in my bones when I’m awake, and it’s woken me up several times, as though someone has been calling my name.

And the worst part of it all is that it doesn’t weird me out. That much. Maybe my understanding of what is “normal” is a little, erm, warped. But you don’t grow up autistic and weird without realising your version of normal is quite different from everyone else’s.

Mumma’s stories definitely haven’t helped there either.

A sensible person might question why a whole load of water would be almost-talking to them, never mind how that could even happen. And I get it, it’s weird. But, somehow, I know I have to be there. To listen, maybe? To find . . . something. I don’t know. Nothing is clear.

I just know that I have to go and say goodbye to the lake. Like the way you know when it’s going to rain, or when a cake will turn out just right. Mumma always calls those feelings “kitchen witchery”, but I always thought it was just luck or something like that.

A goodbye is probably all it wants, right?

It all started the day Mam came back from London, having set up the new house ready for us to move into. The Mums had decided we’d move away from Wales at the start of summer. Mumma’s work had been trying to promote her to the London office for years, but she didn’t want to uproot me when I’d finally got comfortable. Then, things went bad. Kelly Keane and I had been best friends since we were in nursery and I hadn’t needed more friends, because I had Kelly. But then she met Danielle, and then Paul came along too. Neither of them liked me. And soon, neither did Kelly. At first, I kept going to school, but everything quickly went from bad to worse . . .

After I missed the last three months of Year Six, the Mums decided a fresh start would be a good thing for us, and by that point I was so tired I just said yes. I would be starting secondary school along with everyone else in September, but not in Wales. In London. But being the new kid would probably work in my favour. If everyone already had their friend groups from primary school, maybe no one would bother me. I hoped so.

Anyway, that night, the Mums and I sat around our craggy old table eating peanut butter noodles when a huge rainstorm appeared from nowhere, rattling the windows of our old farmhouse. There’d even been flooding throughout the valley, so the farmers had had to go out and rescue their sheep, moving them to safety.

And ever since that storm, ever since I realised we really were leaving, I’ve heard the call.

Extract from Vivi Conway And The Sword Of Legend by Lizzie Huxley-Jones with illustrations by Harry Woodgate.

Reprinted with kind permission from Knights of Media.

Writing can be so fun and exciting and creative, but it can sometimes be hard to get started! Here are my top tips for beating writer’s block and perfectionism.

A blank page can be scary, so one thing I like to do is set a timer for 5 minutes and write down anything that comes through my head to fill up the page. It might be describing how messy my bed looks, or the street outside. Or it might be writing out the lyrics of the songs I’m listening to.

Your first draft will never be as polished as a finished book – the final version of Vivi Conway and the Sword of Legend is draft eight or nine and had lots of people helping me. Give yourself permission to write something imperfect that you can build on!

Working for a long time on something is hard! Write for 5, 10 or 15 minutes of concentrating followed by a 5 minute dance party! Get your body and brain moving!

Not all writing is sitting and writing words down. Draw a mind map of words that describe your story or character. Or you can build a Pinterest board or spreadsheet of images, or a playlist of songs that feel like the story. Explore your story through different art styles and feelings!

How Brave is the Wren and Word Play would like to thank the following authors and illustrators for their contributions to the magazine:

Jess Butterworth, Sarah Christou, Laura Howell, Lizzie Huxley-Jones, Al Murphy, Piers Torday Kate Wakeling, Georgia Wall and Anam Zafar.

Thank you to the following publishers for their support: Hachette, Knights of, Otter-Barry Books, Scholastic and The Emma Press.

Special thanks to Ben Javens for his amazing illustration and design skills and to Studio Anorak for their input and support. www.anorakmagazine.com

Word Play has been supported using public funding by National Lottery through Arts Council England.

You can find all of the books featured in any good library, or if you wish to spend some pocket money please visit How Brave Is The Wren children’s bookshop, 4 York Road, Kings Heath. Birmingham B14 7RZ or find us online at www.howbraveisthewren.com

Last but not least, I would like to dedicate this edition of Word Play to my lovely Dad, who believed in all of my crazy ideas. xx