This Australian summer has so far been brutal and it’s only January. Don’t be fooled by the Sydney beach scene above – I was home by 9am. Heat and humidity are my (MS-related) kryptonite, causing me to retreat into books and, if I find a good tv series, please let me binge watch it. At the moment, I always have three books on the go. One on audio for driving, watering the garden or walking (heat permitting), one in hard copy for the sofa when I’ve no energy for anything else, and one on Kindle at bedtime. The fact that the three I’ve recently read are all experimental memoirs is no coincidence, as each one led me to the next. Beginning with the most recent:

Is there any such thing as a Good Taste Guide to decorating a Christmas tree? If so, I’d like to purchase a few copies as stocking fillers for both my (adult) children.

Having just relocated with my husband from Australia, and with time on my hands, I signed up for a writing course in New York City to learn about the craft of fiction, specifically short stories. I loved the intensity of this form and the fact that every word counted. I began a few stories and worked on them obsessively. Memoir was not even on my radar…