The evolution of style

Another cold autumn day! I've been working on the changes all day, and I think finishing them all by tomorrow night is within reach.

Lately, I have been thinking about the evolution of style - perhaps since this past year and a half represents the first time I have felt really comfortable with the way I dress. Sometimes I look at my favourite bloggers and wonder how they dressed in high school, at university, or even when they were little kids.

I have a theory that a lot of stylish women start out as people who dress 'weirdly', who experiment, who make a lot of mistakes before they find their own particular look. What do you think?


I remember wearing a white jumpsuit to high school, with a leopard-print scarf around my neck. What was I thinking? And I went through a phase of wearing different ponchos every day for about a month. Oh, and to Prom I wore this enormous sequinned 80s dress that had belonged to my mum. I loved it, but it looked dreadful. I wish I could find a photo of it.

At university I used to wear a big, black, Matrix-style leather jacket and lace gloves. And I carried either my guitar or my sketchbook with me everywhere, purely to look arty. Poser!


Sometimes I look at old photos and don't even recognise myself.

How did you dress when you were in high school? Do you remember any particularly mad outfit you wore? I'm interested!

P.S. Can you spot me in this last photo? Even I have trouble.

Interview post (part two)

Finally! Sorry about the wait. Interspersed with silly pictures because, well, why not.
Maura said, "As I'm beginning the college process, I can't help but ask about life after school. So when did you know that you wanted to be a novelist? Did you ever see yourself in any other profession?"

I always knew that I wanted to write - well, as soon as I knew what books were! I wrote my first 'book' when I was about six years old. I think it was ten pages long. I wrote my first novel-length book a few years later, and from then on I always had a novel-length project on the go. I did think about other professions, though, because people told me being a novelist wasn't a 'real' job and I would never make enough money to support myself. I made a brief foray into journalism and hated it (I'm too shy and hated interviewing ... also was slightly traumatised when asked to interview someone over the phone and find out whether or not they were gay. Worst conversation of my life), and then worked as an editor at a publishing company for a while. I am formally qualified as an editor, and I enjoy the work a lot. I still do freelance editing and copywriting under my company name of Play on Words Ltd.

Andrea said, "A possible question about writing I'd ask you is for any thoughts on different types of writing you might do and the connections between them. Novels vs short stories vs poetry vs non fiction."

I actually find short stories the hardest thing to write, because they represent a sort of middle ground between poetry and novel-length prose. A poem can be a snapshot, a fleeting image or impression that doesn't need to be developed further but can stand alone. A novel allows you to fully explore and develop ideas and characters. A short story, to me, is more difficult because it represents an uneasy middle ground. As a result of this, I find that most short stories I write turn out to be the germ of a larger idea - both my Masters novel and the one I started at the end of last year emerged from short stories that I wanted to develop further.

I enjoy writing poetry, but it's something that I go through phases with. There will be months where I'm furiously penning one a day, followed by months of nothing at all. I'm currently in the 'nothing at all' phase. I haven't yet worked out whether this has any correlation with mood or life events - it doesn't seem to.


Lizz said, "I'm curious to how you came to fall in love with your signature vintage look!"

I've always been inspired by looks that seem to have a story behind them. Wearing vintage makes you into a character - whether it's a character from a children's book, an old musical, a movie or something else. I have always dressed 'weirdly' (according to people at school and university) ... in high school this took the form of long skirts with bells on, ponchos, Indian shirts and tons of jewellery. In university, it took the form of long leather coats, lace gloves and Gothic dresses with ribbons on the bodice and lots of lace. This all changed when I started work in a publishing company, and I found the dress code very uninspiring. When I went back to post-grad study, however, I could wear what I wanted again. It has taken me many years to get to the style I have now, but I feel very 'myself' in what I wear these days.

This blog and the wardrobe_remix group have had an enormous influence on my confidence and style. It took me a while to get comfortable with wearing what I wanted to wear and not caring what people might think. The blogging community gave me a lot more confidence and encouragement, and seeing other women expressing themselves through their clothing inspired me to do the same.

One of the things I love about wearing vintage is the friends you make! Sounds weird, but it's true. Quite apart from online friends, people on the street sometimes come up to me and make a comment about what I'm wearing, and we have a little conversation. It's usually older ladies, I find, but I like that.


Shannon asked, "Where and when did you meet your hubby? and what did you do your original degree in?"

I met my husband on an Alpha course at university in 2003. He was in his Honours year, and I was in first year. We've been together for nearly six years now - wow!

My original degree was in English Literature and Theatre and Film Studies (I focused on theatre, which I regret now - I think taking more film classes would have been more my thing. I enjoyed theatre and used to be very active in amateur dramatics and the like, but I haven't auditioned for anything for a couple of years). I also took French, Sociology and Religious Studies.

Casey asked, "Do you have any favorite places in the US? Places that you like to visit when you come here?"

I haven't actually been to many places in the States. Well, that's an understatement. I've been to two cities: LA and Seattle. I didn't really connect with LA, but I LOVED Seattle. Just loved it. Good coffee, good bookstores, good independent media, good restaurants, great people. And it's a beautiful city, too! I loved it so much I thought I might even want to move there.

There's a lot more of the States I want to see - Portland in particular, because I'm always reading about it on people's blogs and it sounds like such a great creative centre. We're probably going to be Stateside for a while this August when we go on our travels - don't know where yet, but I'll keep you posted, as it would be wonderful to meet up with other bloggers if possible.

Lise asked whether I believe in Jesus.

This is a hard one, because I don't usually discuss my beliefs with people any more. I guess the honest answer is that I'm not sure. I used to be very religious, but haven't been for a few years now, for various reasons. My background is Christian, however.

CK asked "Jewellery - do you wear gold or silver?" and "What is your favourite smell ever?"

I actually don't wear jewellery very often - largely because I am one of nature's fiddlers (as in, I fiddle with things. I'm certainly not one of nature's violinists). If I'm wearing a necklace, bracelet or earrings, I play with them all day and drive myself and everyone around me crazy. The only set I really love to wear is this pearl one, which I wore at my wedding (it's a family heirloom):

I do wear some jewellery all the time, however: my watch, which was a gift from my mother for my 21st birthday; my engagement and wedding rings, for obvious reasons; and two rings on my right hand, as well. They are my mother's engagement ring from my father, and his wedding ring, which was re-sized to fit. He died in a car accident, so these two rings are very special to me.

I have lots of favourite smells! My husband's skin, my grandmother's perfume, my cat's fur (he smells like a clean teddy bear), freshly-washed laundry, lavender and roses (big cliches, I know), the smell of a meal cooking when I'm really hungry, coffee brewing, furniture polish and fresh cigarette smoke - that last one's a bit weird, I know. (And no, I don't smoke).


Miss Lady Finger asked, "What does your husband do?"

My husband is a software engineer, but he also does some photography on the side - weddings, commercial shoots and the like.

Josashimi asked if I wear all these outfits when I'm working from home, by myself.

Yes! I do. I find I think and work better when I'm dressed well, and feel more motivated. Even if I'm not going to see anyone, I feel better knowing that I'm dressed in a way that expresses who I am. And it adds a bit of fun, colour and creativity to my morning before I've even started writing.

Thanks for the questions, everyone!

Interview post (part one)

Firstly, thank you so much for all your advice and words of support on my previous post - I found them very emotional to read, and I feel very lucky to have such a wonderful group of people to consult and connect with. So thank you (and I'll reply to all comments individually as soon as I can). Secondly, thank you so much for all your questions! I've been thinking about the answers for a while, and I decided to devote a whole post to trying to give you some idea of what Zimbabwe was like, as a few of you asked about that, and it's a big subject. I would love to show you photos from those days, but we had to leave a lot behind when we left, and those we have aren't in digital form. I mostly just have baby pictures, so in lieu of anything more interesting, I've scattered some photos of me as a Very Small Person throughout the post as what will hopefully be comic relief.

Vali asked about my life in Zimbabwe, and whether I'm ever going to move back.

Both these questions are always really hard to answer (which is the sign of a very good question, Vali!). I guess the book I wrote last year really is a long-winded attempt to describe what it was like growing up in Zimbabwe. I think it is difficult to summarise life in Zimbabwe because, to me, that life was normal and everything else is exotic. I tend to describe it to people in terms of contrast. For example: I miss the colour! I really do. When we came to New Zealand, everything looked grey and washed out, as if a photo had been left out in the sun and rain until it was so faded you could hardly make out the details. Even the sky was washed-out. It was the colour of old denim, while the Zimbabwean sky is hot, bright blue, like the blue you get right in the centre of a candle flame. And the people were grey and washed-out too … everyone seemed to be in denim and black and grey and brown, there were no colours. And everyone was so quiet. It got better, however. After a while I could appreciate the more delicate beauty of a New Zealand sky. And I also appreciate the fact that no animal, insect, bird or snake in New Zealand is likely to kill me except in a deeply ironic turn of circumstance. Even though I like not having to deal with snakes, giant spiders or killer bees anymore, I kind of miss them. There’s an edginess to life in Zimbabwe, a sense that everything could shift and change overnight, so you never feel complacent or settled. The danger gives everything sharper edges, focuses you on what is important. Here in New Zealand, and I would imagine it is similar in other developed nations, it is easier to become complacent and to imagine that things are controllable, that you have some sort of a handle on existence. In Zimbabwe, it was harder to believe that.

Miss Lady Finger asked about my childhood there. It was a barefoot one, with plenty of freedom, lots of cuts and bruises, and very little television. I was very lucky - it was a great place in which to grow up. I was a tomboy when I was younger, as well - in fact, until I was about fourteen - and I spent a lot of time climbing trees and then reading in them for hours. I wrote this little stream-of-consciousness a while ago, thinking about my childhood in Zim:

"Even though I have not started school yet, I am very busy during the day. These are good games to play in the garden: spotting an ant lion’s tiny burrow in the red soil, and mimicking the footsteps of an ant with a slender twig. Watching the ant lion emerge in an avalanche of dust, pounce on the stick, then disappear beneath the surface, disappointed. Finding a chameleon on a branch and letting it walk along your hand, feeling its scaly feet loop and scrape along your fingers like Velcro. Spending half an hour with a sharp rock and a concrete slab trying to break open a macadamia nut. Catching black beetles and keeping them in an old ice-cream tub with some grass and a bottle-cap of water.
“Be careful,” my Mum is always saying.
I know that we are not really welcome here. There are too many things that can kill you: snakes, leopards, hippos, hyenas, charging elephants, spiders. There is potential death or pain in every step. Even the plants are out to get us. There is a plant in our garden that oozes milk when you break it, and is Deadly Poisonous, Mum says. There is also one called Morning Glory that will make you go mad if you eat it, and one covered in tiny yellow fibres of spines that will stick under your skin forever if you touch them. Walking barefoot, I have grown hard and crusty soles on my feet to protect against acacia thorns lurking on the ground, or those tiny plants with white spiky flowers that grow on the lawn. Every expedition outside is accompanied by insect repellent, sunscreen, a hat and calamine lotion. Every activity is dogged by unseen dangers. Mum is eternally dabbing things on me, pulling out splinters or bee stings and slapping on plasters. A day does not pass without a cut or bruise.
Mum irons everything we wash, including underwear, sheets and pillowcases. You have to iron everything because of the putzi flies. I have never seen any, but I have heard the horror stories. Mum has told me that they live in cloth, and then burrow into your skin and lay eggs under it. When the eggs hatch, dozens of putzi flies crawl out of your skin and fly away. It is a disgusting but fascinating idea, and I would quite like to see it in action.
Going to bed at night is also fraught with danger. All the windows have burglar bars, and all the doors have padlocks. We have to check all of them are closed and locked before going to sleep, and then set the alarm. The night presses against the windows and tries to find a chink, but it cannot get in. I have a night-light; a little china castle with two china mice standing outside. It keeps the night back behind the windows, where it belongs."

I don't know if I will ever go back. In some ways I would like to, but I know that the place in which I grew up no longer exists. There are lots of good memories from there, but there are an awful lot of bad memories, too, and they are more recent. Also, I'm not entirely sure that I wouldn't be arrested when I arrived (long story). So I guess the answer is that I don't know if I will ever go back. I do, however, hope that there will be an end to the troubles there in my lifetime, whether I'm there to experience it or not. I can describe this feeling pretty well by quoting from Sam's speech at the end of The Two Towers.

"It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they are. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why."

I have posted a short story I wrote in 2003 based on our final days in Zimbabwe, in case you are interested. It's a bit long to incorporate in the body of this post, so here it is. If there are any specific questions relating to Zimbabwe that you would like to ask, leave them in the comments and I'll do my best!

Gift horses and such

A bit of a personal post, sorry - I've driven myself mad today going in circles around my work, and wanted to pick your collective creative brains ('picking someone's brain' is really a disgusting term, isn't it? Horrible mental image of someone fiddling inside a brain like an ape performing a social grooming ritual. But anyway).

I struggle a lot with guilt. Guilt that I'm not doing enough, or not doing more. It means that I find it hard to enjoy anything unreservedly. In the middle of something I love doing, I'll stop and think, "this isn't good enough, you're wasting time, you should be doing something else, it's taking you too long, you should be further along than you are, you should be able to cope better, work harder, work longer hours, you should have achieved more in your life by now." I spend a lot of my day listening to myself say things like this. This constant mental argument is exhausting.

One of the things that's making me most guilty at the moment is that I'm doing what I love. I know this sounds weird, but bear with me. I have enough money, plenty of time, and I'm writing full-time. This is what I have always wanted to do. There's a big part of me, however, that's waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm almost waiting to be punished, as if this great good fortune has to be balanced out by something awful - as if I don't deserve it. I guess I'm looking the gift horse in the mouth and attempting to send it back. It's not rational, but it's a surprisingly strong belief, and I'm fighting with myself in an attempt not to act it out.

I have a tendency to self-sabotage. When something's going well, or I have a big opportunity, I often (and usually subconsciously) mess it up. I only realise this well after the fact. I avoid a potentially important meeting by getting a panic attack, fail to return a call that could lead to new and exciting work, back out of something that sounds fun because I worry I'm not going to be any good at it (this is where self-sabotage and a destructive tendency to perfectionism combine in one neat package. The mind is a wonderful thing). I think the urge is stronger now because I have nearly finished the Masters, and my safety framework is about to disappear. When the Masters is done, I'm not going to be working towards a degree - I'm just going to be writing, for better or for worse.

So, here are the ways I usually act these feelings out:

1) Avoidance - speaks for itself, really.

2) Psychosomatic Girl Strikes Again - I get sick in one way or another.

3) Resistance - this can appear as crazy restlessness that has me chasing my own tail, or as a sudden loss of interest and enthusiasm.

4) Misplaced virtue - for example, "I should get a proper job, it's not fair on LOML." (Read: "I'm scared of trying and failing and I'm conveniently finding a seemingly reasonable and unselfish reason not to try"). LOML wants me to be doing what I'm doing. We don't need more money. We don't have kids or a mortgage or anyone relying on us (well, apart from Mink and the goldfish, but their needs are simple. The pot plants fend for themselves - they have to, I'm erratic with watering).

Do any of you have this 'proper job' belief? Do you know where it came from? I can't pinpoint exactly when this idea was instilled in me - it didn't come from my mum, I know. My stepdad certainly had his thoughts on the matter, but I don't think the things he said could have seeded such a strong belief. There is a very big part of me that believes work 'should' be from nine to five, Monday to Friday, that it 'should' be difficult and that, if I'm happy and enjoying what I'm doing, it's not 'real' work and it's not a 'real' job. It's like I secretly believe I have to be unhappy to be a proper adult. It's weird. I really want to give myself permission to be a writer without guilt.

I guess I'm wondering whether any of you share these tendencies, and how you deal with them. I've found affirmations very helpful in the past - any other tips?

On a completely different subject, thank you so much for all the questions you left in the comments of the previous post - they're great! Can't wait to answer them.

Monochrome

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the States!

I have done nothing constructive all day, and have been in a very indecisive mood - wandering about aimlessly, picking things up and putting things down, going into a room and then forgetting why I went in there.

When I gave my speech about Zimbabwe to a high school class earlier this year, I began it by saying, "When I was crouching in a safe house on a Zimbabwean farm, hiding from Mugabe's militia, I never thought I would be here talking to you." I often think this. Sometimes I stop in the middle of my day and think "What am I doing here? How did I get here?" It's not that I don't like being here in New Zealand. I do. I'm very lucky. But some part of me does feel like my life split in half when I left Zimbabwe, that there's some other Andrea who is still living in Harare.

This quote from an interview with Peter Godwin (author of When a Crocodile Eats the Sun and Mukiwa) sums it up for me:

'Though a British audience may have a particular interest in Zimbabwe, there is also a profound foreignness to the tale Godwin tells. We live in a place where, as he puts, we have "clear sight lines to past and change seems to evolve in organic, bite-site, calibrated chunks". By contrast, Zimbabwe is a place where there is no continuity but instead a series of seismic and unpredictable shifts.

'The pace of change has left Godwin rootless. In such a context, his two memoirs represent his best stab at rootedness. "Writing," he says, "is the way I deal with things. Writing it down will make it safe... Otherwise what has happened is just too sad. It's just literally, terminally sad. And writing is all I've got."'

This expresses perfectly how I feel. In Zimbabwe, I never knew what was going to happen from one moment to the next. Here, I can plan for things. I know I will be alive next week, for example. I know that I will still be able to buy milk and bread at the supermarket. I know that my money will be worth roughly the same amount tomorrow, next week, next month. But in gaining security, I have lost something else. I feel like have lost my adventurous spirit, to some extent. I have always been a perfectionist, but now I feel like my routines and control are the only things standing between me and complete chaos. I am aware of how quickly things can fall apart, and I am always afraid that it will happen again. I don't want to be like this. I want to be more willing to take risks again.

It has taken me six years to be able to examine my experiences there. Six years! I can't believe it has been that long since we left. I spent so much time this year writing my book, and I have so much invested in it. I want so desperately for it to be published, and I'm so scared that it won't be. But that is something over which I have very little control at the moment - it's up to the UK agents who have it. And if they all reject it, I'll send it directly to publishers here in New Zealand. And if that doesn't work, I'll think of something else. Meanwhile, I'm working on a second book. That is all I can do, really. Keep calm and carry on, as the World War II poster says!

As far as my confusion about Zimbabwe and fear of the future goes, I guess that's something I am working through gradually. I can't expect everything to be 'fixed' at once (although my not-so-inner perfectionist disagrees).

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone who celebrates it. We have so much for which to be thankful. Among other things, I'm very thankful for all of you!

Election day!

We went and voted in the New Zealand elections this morning. I love voting. It's so wonderful to live in a country where your vote actually counts and no one (hopefully) is going to fiddle the ballots. Oh, and there's not a guard with an AK47 hovering threateningly around the booth. All good things, and a nice change for my family.

Our elections this year were overshadowed by the US elections, of course, and neither of our candidates are anywhere near as inspiring as Obama, but it is still a very exciting day. We are having some friends over tonight for a barbecue to hear the results, although New Zealand's MMP system means that we may not know who our government is for several days (or even weeks).

The lovely Kater of All This Happiness tagged me many moons ago - I'm sorry it took so long to get around to this, but here it is! The answers are very random, I tried to put down the first things that came to mind.

Six random things about me:

I have had five different surnames in the course of my life.
I love birds. When we lived in Zimbabwe we had (as well as a dog and two cats) an African Grey parrot; two cockatiels; pigeons; an aviary of budgies and lovebirds; chickens; bantams; guinea fowl; and a peacock.
When I was small, I had an imaginary friend called Tumbles the Tiger.
I used to tell kids at primary school that I was a secret agent doing an undercover investigation at the school, and that my pencil-case was a two-way radio that went directly to my superiors.
I may have mentioned this before, but I collect antique books. I'll have to do a post on them one day.
I had an impressive poncho collection when in high school in Zimbabwe, and I wore one almost every day. I still have a few of them!

Six random things I like:

Aeroplane food
Being barefoot
Snails
The smell of furniture polish
Finding someone's name carved in a wooden bench
Trains

Six random things I don't like:

North-west winds
Pumpkin
People using criteria as a singular noun
Mall music
Crowds
Unexpected guests

I'm not going to tag anyone because I have taken so long to get around to this that I'm not sure who hasn't yet completed it. Thanks for the tag Kater, it was great fun!

House rules

I spent this afternoon trying to pare down my wardrobe (again). At the moment, it is not reflecting my values, which makes me feel very hypocritical. The quote I refer to most often when thinking about how I want my home to be is:

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." - William Morris

When I look at my closet or chest of drawers and see it overflowing with clothes, it makes me feel a bit disgusted - like that uncomfortable feeling you get when you've eaten far too much and feel nauseous and bloated. I hate to own piles of stuff that are neither useful nor beautiful; not just when it comes to clothes, but in every area of life. I don't like minimalist style, and I'm definitely a fan of surrounding myself with objects I love, but I hate random clutter and mess. As I tend to be a hoarder, this is something I struggle with. In some ways I think it stems from leaving Zimbabwe - we had to leave almost everything behind, and we lost a lot of treasured items. In reaction to that, I am ridiculously sentimental about objects and am loath to throw things away. I also love shopping and the thrill of buying something new. Bad combination.

I'm trying to get better at managing my wardrobe, and life in general. This year I have tried very hard to get a handle on my diet, my daily writing routine, housework and organisation in general - to establish rules and habits that are healthy and productive rather than destructive.

Here are the wardrobe rules I drew up for myself this year:

1) To buy second-hand whenever possible.
2) When it is not possible or practical to buy second-hand (for example, if I need underwear or something similar), to buy from a company that manufactures ethically and in an environmentally responsible way.
3) To regularly pare down and organise my wardrobe, giving away any items that no longer fit or that I no longer wear.
4) To maintain and repair my current wardrobe rather than buying something new whenever possible. I try to take good care of the things I already own and to make repairs and alterations on a weekly basis, so the pile of Things To Do doesn't grow too high (doesn't always work out that way, but that's the aim).
5) To buy items only after careful consideration of exactly how they will fit into my wardrobe - I try to buy something only if I can think of three different ways to wear it, and I avoid buying something if I need to make another purchase before it will work in my wardrobe (this is a trap into which I've fallen many times - "This would be great with some green shoes. Now all I need is a pair of green shoes." That kind of thing). Vintage dresses are an exception to this; I see my vintage dress collection as just that, a collection, and will buy a beautiful vintage dress even if I'm only going to wear it on special occasions.
6) Whenever possible, to buy clothes made from good quality fabrics that have flattering shapes - this means I am likely to wear them for years rather than just for one season. I try to avoid buying fashionable clothes that I think will go out of style quickly.
7) To be grateful for the things I have rather than yearn for the things I don't.

Of course, I sometimes (often) fail to achieve these things. But having them keeps me headed in the right direction. It's an ongoing project. The key for me - since I am a perfectionist and tend towards anxiety and a feeling of being overwhelmed - is to change things gradually and not to put too much pressure on myself to be perfect right away. It's easy to look at all there still is to do rather than what you have already achieved.

Anyway, thank you for bearing with me through what I hope wasn't an overly preachy or earnest post - I am a work in progress, and don't want to give the impression that I know all there is to know about anything at all. I do think it is important to buy responsibly, though, especially in countries like New Zealand where we are bombarded with products and adverts.

As for this afternoon, I managed to cull a few items of clothing that will find good new homes. Not a big step, but a step in the right direction.

About me

It's fairly impossible to write an 'About Me' that covers all the facts without being a big old yawn, but here goes ...


Photo by my talented husband

My family is Zimbabwean and I grew up there (although I managed to be born in England through a strange combination of circumstances). I loved Zimbabwe, even as it started to crumble around us, but I was lucky enough to be able to move to New Zealand with my family when I was seventeen, and was very happy there too. I used to watch the Gilmore Girls in Zimbabwe and dream of living somewhere where there were 'proper' seasons and I could wear coats and scarves. So, as much as I complained about the cold, I did like having the variety. I got married to my long-term Kiwi boyfriend in 2007. We moved to Austin, Texas in 2010 (hooray, warm weather once more!) and we live very happily here with our cat, Mink and the occasional persistent group of ants in the pantry.

I have wanted to be a writer since I knew what a story was, and I have been working towards it all my life. I wrote my first 'proper' book when I was fifteen, and it was published by Texpertise Ltd in Zimbabwe. It was a fantasy novel for ages 9 to 12, and boasted the dreadful title of The Adventures of Cat, Emma and Duncan in the Lost Land, but sadly (thankfully) isn't available outside of Zimbabwe. I'm proud of it, but my writing has certainly changed dramatically since I was in my mid-teens! Between the ages of fifteen and twenty-three I wrote about six novels that live in desk drawers and are never going to see the light of day (and probably never should!). So believe me, it takes time to produce anything halfway good.

Anyway, I completed a Bachelor of Arts majoring in English and Theatre and Film Studies at the University of Canterbury a few years ago, while working part-time as a book buyer, then got a job as an editor at a publishing company. I quit at the end of 2006 to do the Post-graduate Diploma in Book Publishing at Whitireia Arts College (and went back to the bookstore part-time), and then went on to do the MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Canterbury. My Masters project was a novel based on my experiences growing up in post-Independence Zimbabwe. That novel became, after many rewrites and revisions, The Cry of the Go Away Bird, which will be published by Harvill Secker (an imprint of Random House UK) on 10 February 2011 and in a Dutch edition by Orlando later in the year. I am represented by the wonderful Vivien Green of Sheil Land Associates.

I am currently working on another novel set in Zimbabwe, and a Young Adult novel set in New Zealand.

Thanks for visiting!