This is the story I referred to in my post last week that almost got me mistaken for a supermodel. It was originally published in The Age newspaper in April 2001 (you’ll see that some of the references are a bit dated). They ran a funny short story competition and published the three place-getters and

I just want to start by saying that my post last week was the most successful one I’ve done, and to thank everyone who took the time to post comments back to me or respond via Facebook. Today I’m going to go the opposite way completely and have a bit of a whinge (for my

I read something interesting the other day. Apparently most independent authors sell on average 4 books a month. Did you get that? 4 books a month. And when you consider that most of these books are priced between $2.99 and a meagre 99 cents, that’s not a lot of royalties to be earned. Doesn’t look

I know it’s probably not something I’m ever likely to have to worry about, but I do occasionally wonder about what I’d do if someone came up and offered me lots of money for the film rights for one of my books. You’d think that working out the answer would be pretty easy. Why wouldn’t

If you’ve taken some time to look at my “What is dag-lit?” page, you may have noticed that one of the ways I used to describe dag-lit was “joyously dumb. But what on earth is that meant to mean? It’s a bit tricky to explain but I’ll try. Believe it or not, it actually has more