queer the shelves

I spent years – decades – putting Fin’s story together in my head before my creative volcano bubbled, fizzed, and erupted, and the glorious compulsion to get it down on paper (well, Word document) overtook me…

A stand out moment had to be on a recent visit to a school where I work with a child who was a selective mute…

How could I even dare to pick up a pen when there were already so many beautifully-constructed sentences out in the world? 

I treasure my comfort reads from other authors, which I turn to for multiple reasons. My treats and safe havens. So, it’s magic when someone finds that in one of my books

Being a writer means having all kinds of great memories. Mine include having my name inked into people’s skin…

Unreliable characters don’t stop being unreliable just because you invented them.

My hope is for every author to find their perfect ‘voice’, and that every project becomes a matchmaker’s dream come true.

Maybe holding onto one defining memory as a yardstick isn’t the way we should view our happiness in any part of our lives. Maybe…

Being a writer sucks.
That’s why I’m not a writer. I never have been.
(Okay, wait for it, you’ll love this part, I promise.)

I discovered a collection of fairy tales in my parents’ house, battered and bashed, and with a dedication at the front from my mum and dad, wishing me love on my fifth birthday.