Never forget that children are at the heart of everything we do. Respect them, listen to them, talk to them as equals, and care about them.
Stories come to me in mysterious ways, more like dreams than reasoned creations.
I’m impressed by the way some illustrators develop their images on computers, but it’s too late for me to start, and I’m still in love with paper and paint and pencils.
My dad never decided what he wanted to do; at times he fought in the army, was a teacher, a boxer, a light engineer, and a then a publican. My mum was a traditional housewife and mother. They showed my brother and I unconditional love.
I played rugby from the age of 10 until my late twenties; an unlikely player – small, quiet, long-haired and ‘wiry.’
After art college, I got a job as a medical illustrator, and I was pretty good. I had to imagine what was going on in the operations because the photographs just showed a mess.
Maurice Sendak is the daddy of them all when it comes to picture books – the words, the rhythm, the psychology, the design.
When I was a boy, I was a worrier, and so was my son, Joe. I used to tell him that worrying meant he had an imagination and that one day he’d be pleased.
Inspiring passion in children for books, and the world of imagination and creativity fuelled by them, is a fundamental reason for why the Children’s Laureate post exists.
A lot of my characters are underdogs or sad or lonely, but I had a comfortable, golden sort of childhood.
Something happens to our creativity as we go through the education process most of us lose touch with it.
M dad was a boxer, so he had this fierce, physical presence.