I planted a nectarine tree in my garden and regretted it almost immediately. It turned out to be more work that I thought. No-one told me all the fruit would ripen around the same time. I'd go from nothing edible to a glut of hundreds in days. You can only eat so much fresh fruit … Continue reading Suburban fruit trees are for the birds →

A few days ago, a Facebook memory popped up in my feed, back when I was shortlisted in a writing competition for the first time. Hurray! It was the London Independent Story Prize in the UK and a piece I wrote about a golden-orb weaver spider. I didn't win but it felt great. I get … Continue reading My year of writing dangerously -or how to write fiction when you don’t know what you’re doing. →

"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." Virginia Woolf. In all my 54 years I have never had a room of my own. Until now. I have wanted one all of my life. But there's always been something in the way. As a kid I … Continue reading ‘A Room of One’s Own.’ →