I sit poised at my desk and know that I’m throwing all that I have at my second novel, The Middle Distance. I’ll leave you guessing about the subject matter, but suffice to say it’s darkly sensual and mysterious.
Creativity is what I am best at. There’s no choice, it’s part of me and has steered my life from when I was small. I’m large now, not in girth, but in the years that have accumulated, and the shocking reality that I must scroll very far back to 1964 to register my date of birth.
I’m art school trained, but quickly shed the skin of a fashion designer when I fell into the arms of a painter, but that’s another story. A quick glance back over my life tells me that I have flitted from one dramatic chapter to another, but such is life – except that I’m irresistibly drawn to record what I see. Sometimes I feel more like a cat when I escape, in the nick of time, to live to tell the tale. And that’s what I do, I tell stories. Stories that are acutely based on my own observations and experiences. I also take photos, photographs that leave the viewer questioning – I hope.