Writing is like making a clay pot. You try to keep the clay fluid while it takes shape under your hands. But along the way unplanned accidents creep in - a warp develops, a finger leaves a dent, a fleck of cobalt colours the glaze. Then after the pot is fired you claim these magical happenings as your own!   

Biography

I grew up between the sea and vineyards and mountains on the southernmost tip of Africa, the youngest in a family of three girls. My mother seemed as glamorous as a film-star and my father was my mapmaker, helping me plot not only unfamiliar territory but also the texture of new experiences. 

My writing stems from experiences with notebook and camera through countries like Botswana, China. Egypt, Korea, Russia - across Siberia by train, Senegal, Tunisia and most recently Vietnam. Most of my stories have a strong sense of place.  I think I’m a misguided cinematographer because there’s always a film playing out in my head.

I've been an art teacher, potter, travel writer and amateur photographer and began writing when my sons were young.  The stories cover a broad range - creation myths, songs of the humpback whale and children who find themselves in foreign places far from home.

My husband, Michael, and I live in central London.  I love the idea of living in a city - the architecture, the layers of history embedded in it, the constant change and revival and the turmoil of so many strange people. Yet every now and again I need to turn towards Africa and connect with the wide spaces of the sea, and mountain and bush where I grew up.  

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