At a time when kids seem more interested in computer codes than bound books, writers like Qin Wenjun are struggling to hold onto their young readers. Though a household name in China for her wonderful children's literature - most notably her "Jia Li" series - Qin is determined to keep writing books that kids can relate to, undeterred by the staggering success of imports like J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series, reports Zhao Feifei?

　　Sitting in her small office, shelf upon shelf of books forming a bulwark of knowledge behind her, 49-year-old Qin Wenjun pores over the letters that form a range of elevated plateaux on her desk, her face breakingsintoswide grins from time to time.

　　"I enjoy reading the letters from my little readers," says Qin, a well-known writer of children's books and vice-chairman of the Shanghai Writers' Association. "In the letters, they tell me their problems, and relate the tribulations of growing up: the high expectations from parents, academic pressures, the cliques in school and, of course, the angst of puppy love. They fill me in on what is going on in their world, which often supplies fodder for my writing."

　　With her novel series "A Boy Named Jia Li" (in Chinese, Publishing House for Children and Adolescent, 11.7 yuan) selling more than 1 million copies nationwide, Qin is acclaimed as the "godmother" of children's literature in China.

　　Her books have enjoyed positive reviews across the board, and last year she was nominated for a prestigious Hans Christian Andersen Award - the Pulitzer for children's literature. The award is given to "those whose works made an important and lasting contribution to children's literature."

　　As the nation continues its natural embrace of the world, more and more international children's bestsellers, such as the Goosebumps series and the Harry Potter phenomena, have captured the imaginations of Chinese children and fly off domestic bookstore shelves.

　　And while it is wonderful to see children embrace books in this computer age, there is some concern among Chinese writers that their works are being overshadowed by the expertly marketed imports.

　　Nevertheless, Qin is one of about 3,000 children's writers in China who are not conceding defeat. They are using their own prodigious creative skills to wrest the attention of children who can only benefit from this international contest to win their hearts and minds.

　　"I'm delighted that my books are still able to attract techno-savvy kids, and see them abandon their nihilistic computer games to read," says Qin, whose writing shows a clear understanding of the children's world, in tune with their daily ups and downs.

　　Qin began writing for children in 1981 and more than 2 million copies of her books are in print. In 1996 she won the Italian International Mondello Special Prize. Several of her books have been adaptedsintosfilms and TV programs.

　　"My own childhood memories inform much of my writing," says Qin, her eyes glowing with an uncanny innocence. "I have very vivid recollections of what I was like when I was 10 years old."

　　During her school days, she was "such a know-it-all" and "good debater," that her classmates gave her the nickname "Qin Kesi" (from the Chinese translation of Karl Marx's name - Ma Kesi).

　　It was her primary school teacher who introduced her to reading and writing. The teacher's strategy for piquing her interest in literature stayed with Qin.

　　"She always stopped and said 'to be continued' at the most exciting part of the story," recalls Qin. "This, of course, drove us crazy with curiosity, and we looked forward to the next class. I read a lot by myself as well. 'Aesop's Fables,' 'The Arabian Nights' and Lu Xun's works were among my favorites.

　　"When I was sent to the countryside to work, I started writing," she continues. "Whenever I felt lonely, paper and pen were my dearest companions."

　　Qin is bemused by the fact that the characters she creates are more real to her young readers than she is. "Unlike adults, kids aren't very interested in the writer. To them, the story is most important. That may partly account for the reason why few writers chose to write children's books," says Qin, who is also editor-in-chief of Chinese Children Literature, an academic periodical.

　　For children in China, the nation's 3,000 writers have their work cut out for them. When the "Harry Potter" craze hit major cities in China, nearly 180,000 sets of the series sold nationwide in the first three days. In a country where the average press-run for children's books is 20,000, that number was staggering.

　　The numbers have turned the heat up on China's children's book authors. Some critics have remarked that China's writers must increase the currency and content of their creative works to win over larger numbers of young readers.

　　Qin tries to put things in perspective.

　　"J.K. Rowling's clever," she says, referring to the author of the "Harry Potter" series. "She weaved boarding school lifesintosthe realm of wizards and witchcraft. To some extent, school can be a sanctuary for children. The idea that a child escapes from the confines of the adult world and goes somewhere where he has power, both literally and metaphorically, really appeals to young readers."

　　Qin notes that Rowling was not the "real master in witchcraft fiction in Britain." C. Dale Brittain's work, she says, is more classic. "But Rowling found a fresh angle," adds Qin.

　　The other reason why domestic writers' works are less popular than their foreign counterparts has to do with marketing strategies. Qin characterizes China's publishing house marketing tactics as "less than aggressive."

　　When selling the "Harry Potter" series, the People's Literature Publishing House gave away colorful Harry Potter pens to promote sales. For local writers, few such giveaways or promotional tools are provided.

　　"When I attended the book fair organized by the International Board on Books for Young People in Switzerland, I saw that we're beginning to bridge the gaps with foreign counterparts in terms of jacket design. Maybe with a little push in marketing, our books can go farther," she says.

　　To this day, Qin remains computer-phobic. "I prefer to write with a pen," she confesses. "The greatest joy of being a writer is the act of writing itself."Dai Yingniao, Qin's 15-year-old daughter, is following in her mother's footsteps, and has already published a book. Dai describes the relationship between her and her mother as more like friendship. Her love for literature was cultivated by Qin's vast collection of books - volumes which inhabit every niche of her small office. Qin hopes her own fame will not cast undue influence over her daughter's development as a writer.

　　When asked if she has ever suffered from writers' block, Qin confidently says never. "If I ever feel stuck, I'll stop," she says. However, she has frustrating moments, usually at the start of her books. Perseverance is the word for her efforts.

　　"Writing was the realization of my life's ambition. The mere fact that I can see my books in a bookshop makes me happier than I can say. I'm lucky that I make a living out of writing children's books. I prayed that I would make just enough money to continue writing," she says.