I am often to be found in my dusty garret, lit by the desperate flickering of a wick, half-drowned in a pool of recycled wax, languid, at the bottom of a chipped saucer.
Have I over-embellished?
OK, I write stuff (in rough size order as I’m a bit OCD) – poetry, humorous verse, flash fiction, short stories and full-length children’s fiction.
The tiniest detail can spark off an idea. I collect them, like butterflies. They can be strange or beautiful… and, as they flutter around, I pluck them out and use them to write. Sometimes they turn into poetry, sometimes into stories, but a lot of them have grown into something much bigger – books.
I also write about life – and, as we all know, truth is often stranger than fiction…
I have not yet decided whether I am a children’s or adults’ author as I write for both. So, I’ll just call myself a writer.
I have two websites where you can find out more:
I also lurk elsewhere: