I didn’t start out in full swing. I worked up to it. And I never really quit the day job.  Accepting myself as a writer was always a bit hard for me. It was as if having so much fun earning a living wasn’t quite the way it should be so a great deal of my work has been done in between doing other things (like teaching, or being a mum, or cooking dinner – Prince Lachlan was written on butcher’s paper while the peas cooked – or feeding cats, dogs, birds and other visitors). This meant I had to grab whatever spot was available to add bits and pieces to my stories as I went along:

• the kitchen table (The Web, in a writing pad, with pencil and biro),