Showing posts from February, 2012


As writers we know that inspiration is everywhere. All we have to do is open our eyes, use our senses (all of them) and listen. However, with everything else that we do in our lives, sometimes, sometimes the ability to notice what is out there in the world disappears.

For the month of February I was inspired by Tony Tulloch , (very nice person as well as a fantastic photographer) and decided that I would take a photograph for each day. Take a photograph of something that had grabbed my attention.

The one above was taken on one of those very humid mornings, before the sun had broken through the fog.

Some days were easier than others. Something, somewhere jumped out at me. Such as the photo below.
The sign was there on the way to work one morning, gone that afternoon. Which of course raised the question...was he found?

I made the decision to simply snap using my small point-and-shoot camera. There would be no major thought involved, no setting up of the scene, no waiting for the righ…


When I was much younger, Dad was building us something -perhaps upgrades to the cubby house beneath the cypress tree?. Anyway he went off to answer a phone call with the strict command 'No one touch the axe'.

Hmm....of course I touched the axe. And need I say there was blood. I remember telling my brothers and sister 'Don't tell Dad I touched the axe.' I don't know how I was going to explain the bloodied axe, the missing slice off my thumb and my brothers excitedly looking on the ground for the 'remains of Vicki'.

Mum and Dad didn't need Sherlock Holmes to realise what had happened. They simply observed which child was bleeding and needed to be taken to hospital....elementary.

Observation is vital to a good writer. It's noting and adding those small details that add depth and flavour and life to a piece of work. Doesn't matter whether it's a novel, short story, poem or script...the smaller details are necessary. And unfortunately often …


When I was sixteen I had a crush on a boy in the crowd of friends that we'd hang out with. Couldn't believe my luck when he asked me out, just one on one. We went roller skating and as we walked back to the train station, hand in hand, he told me that even though we had fun, he thought we should stay 'just friends'.

Sigh. First love- first heart break.

No happy endings, no sunset walks on the beach, no romantic winings and dinings...

But then one of his friends asked me out, and heh at sixteen, love is a four letter word that is easily moulded to suit any occasion. And even though I'd sigh over 10CC's song 'I'm not in love'....I was onto the next cute boy. Such is life at sixteen.

I will put my hand up and say writing anything romantic is hard work. I don't have that head space for the happy-ever-afters ( in fact very few of my stories, poems or novels end up that way). I'm especially not into the Valentines Day-smoochy teddybears- chocola…


This was the question asked by one of my writing friends recently. Initially I wondered what she meant. But the more I thought about the question, the more I saw in it.

I don't tend to read fiction during the day. It feels like an extravagance. I know I could so easily lose the day by reading (and have done on so many occasions in the past) so I allow myself to dip into magazines and non-fiction. I save the fiction for reading at night. Most of the time I have a pile of books by the bed and admit to getting a bit tetchy when I'm down to my last two. What happens if one is a dud? What happens if they both are? I'd be reduced to re-reading one of the old faithfuls kept in one of the many bookcases. Which would be good but it's not the same as diving into the unknown of fresh words.

I also have a kindle (Christmas present) which I have used, and tend to take away when I'm travelling. It's light, portable, and can house so many stories. Which is great when you don…