My dear travelling buddy, In a few days, you and I will be hurtling through the sky toward France. If you’ve never travelled with me before—welcome. I’ll try not to get us lost. At the moment, however, I’m still in Australia. Sitting at the dining table with a notebook. A pen. And an empty suitcase. I know. I've left it late. I've been extremely busy not packing. I used to haul a suitcase the size of a small refrigerator across cobblestones, up steps, into trains, out of car

Dear A-lister, There are, objectively, eleventy billion beautiful places to write. Florence in spring. Sydney harbour. Hydra’s blue-white dazzle. My own desk, with white bifold shutters overlooking a travertine terrace, clipped green hedges, blue, blue sky. Some washing. All heaven. So why France? Shhhh my inner sparkle fairy has already packed. Saying no could cause a full diva meltdown. But why now? Because when I told her I must stay at home and keep grinding out book prom

My lovely email people—you absolute champions—you’re finally getting the update you deserve. Son of Hydra has been out for three weeks, and the response has been so good I’ve had to lie down several times with a cold cloth. Honestly, I thought you’d all pat me on the head politely say well done and wander off. Instead, you’ve gone completely spare. But would you believe, I’ve sold more in the US than in Australia? How marvellous and deeply confusing is that? I hope he become

Wherever I am, my early morning walks are usually peaceful affairs. At home, I wander or powerwalk up to the high water tank and back again. I know the five people I usually meet; I recognise their casual wear; I know their dogs’ names. None of them poses a threat to my blood pressure. It's a gentle kind of happiness I take for granted. When I'm in Brisbane, it‘s the same. Peaceful. I take the riverwalk: a zephyr of breeze, a lone rower slicing quiet circles into the water,

The Cover That Took An Insta-village (and a pirate) Remember these? When I put up sixteen possible covers for Son of Hydra and asked you to vote, I had no idea what I’d started. Hundreds of you took the trouble to send really thoughtful responses—and the results were—well, enlightening. There was no outright winner. Just a list of ones that had more votes than the others. The top choice was Number 6, the beautiful orange and blue woodcut. Unfortunately, when I showed it to a

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