Do you remember the ‘Doctor Who’ episode called ‘Blink’? The one where angels prey upon humans but turn to stone the moment they are looked upon — so the only way to prevent them killing is not to blink. As soon as a person shuts their eyes, the angels move, incredibly quickly — though of... Continue Reading →
How much do you read according to genre? I’ve been mulling over this for a while now, and especially recently, when I read Up and In, by Deborah Disney, a novel that’s been on my list for a while. I’d met Deb at a HarperCollins author lunch last year, both of us newbies to the... Continue Reading →
There are some times in life when the Wheel of Fortune seems to sit you at the top for no particular reason. That was me, up the top there, in late August, at the Edinburgh Book Festival. There was nothing not to like, and everything to love: Edinburgh’s beauty; the writers’ yurt (a real, felt-carpeted... Continue Reading →
This blog has been dozing for a few weeks now, perhaps even months (but who’s counting?). Life for me, on the other hand, has been anything but sleepy. Writers’ festivals in Australia, one in Edinburgh, and a writer-in-residence gig in Wales have kept me on my introvert-twinkle-toes (photos to come, when I sort out the... Continue Reading →
A few weeks ago, a dear friend sent me this poem. If you've read The Anchoress, you'll recognise the subject. I love it! What better gift than having a poem written about one of your characters? Eleanor lives on. Ellie Sticking like a burr with grubby hands hot breath and urgent words on the... Continue Reading →
So, it's now the countdown to the release of The Anchoress in the United States. What a surreal thing to write! This is the jacket. If you've been to my website before, you might have noticed that the original design was a swallow, but the publishers have decided to go with the profile of a... Continue Reading →
A squint seems like a funny name for a window. Apart from describing a medical condition, we use it now, mostly to suggest someone looking with their eyes partly shut, often against the sun; it's a very common Australian characteristic. When I don't have my glasses to read, I instinctively squint, and for some reason,... Continue Reading →
It has been a bit over five years since it all started in earnest: me sitting down each day to write, discovering characters, gradually shaping a story. I knew the thirteenth-century context, and I knew my starting point was an anchoress — a woman choosing to be enclosed in a stone cell, helped in her... Continue Reading →
One of my favourite poems is ee cummings’ may my heart always be open to little may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living whatever they sing is better than to know and if men should not hear them men are old may my mind stroll about hungry... Continue Reading →
He closed the heavy wooden door behind him. Five of us were now shut in this small room about ten paces from end to end, and even fewer across. It was late afternoon in early spring; some sun came through the leadlight windows and candles were burning, but we were glad to have the lights... Continue Reading →
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