The Story So Far...   I was born in Dumbarton, Scotland.  It's between Loch Lomond and Glasgow,  give or take a bit. My family emigrated to Australia when I was 7 years old.  We moved house seven times before I was twelve and I went to five different primary schools so I got used to being the new kid on the block. I learnt to  speak a new language...well sort of. I learnt to "go shopping" instead of "do the messages"; to do the "vacuuming" rather than the "hoovering." But I  quickly developed an Aussie accent so people would stop asking me to say things in the playground. I always loved reading and read anything that I could get my hands on. I particularly loved myths and legends. I escaped to imaginary places because we moved  around a lot and we'd left all of our extended family back in Scotland. Funnily enough, in school I ended up doing science rather than English. I  thought it would get me a better job. I started off as a lab technician but since I didn't get to talk to  anyone all day, I started to worry that I might be a figment of my own imagination. So I became a teacher instead and now I get to talk to people  all day. I am still a part-time secondary science teacher. I live with my husband, two daughters, a pet labrador and sometimes my husband's other two children. My Mum, the Gags Machine comes to stay and does our ironing. Everyone should have a Gags Machine. She's called  Gags because my daughter called my mum 'Ga-Ga'. Then as Ga-Ga became less  cool, it got shortened to Gags. And she's a machine because she never stops  cleaning. Hey, maybe I should write a story about her...oops already done.   I started writing after the birth of my second daughter. It was something  I'd always wanted to do but didn't think I was good enough. A  friend convinced me that it was never too late to start. So I wrote my first story,  collected my first rejection and found it wasn't so bad after all. I'm still  really grateful that the rejection letter was so kind and encouraging or I might have given up. And one morning the phone rang and it was the scariest thing...an editor.  I tried sound sophisticated on the phone as I jumped on the couch and ran  around the room. I had to barricade myself in the bathroom to talk to this editor, while my children battered on the door. I'd been picked up from the infamous 'slush pile.' So, as the saying goes, it doesn't happen overnight but it can happen. My girls think I am the grossest and rudest mother in the world...and  sometimes I think my students do too.   My Grandad Marches on Anzac Day. My first book, My Grandad Marches on Anzac Day was written about my  father-in-law, George Hoy. George was born in 1922 in Lurgan, Northern  Ireland. When he was 16, George ran away to Liverpool to join the army. He was sent back to Ireland on a boat because he was too young. He had 'words' with his father over the incident. George enlisted again by bribing the  enlistment officer. George got 5 schillings for signing up which he gave to the person who recruited him. His dad turned up on the parade ground with  his birth certificate to stop him going to Dunkirk. So he didn’t go with his  regiment to France, where most of them died. George volunteered for Layforce which was the start of commandos and SAS. Later in Egypt George volunteered for anything to avoid the boredom of 30.000 troops...including the 'Fly control unit' at Genifa, Cairo. George was always able to catch a fly in his bare hands after that, a party trick in later life. At Tobruk  fought with Australian amongst others. He used to run to get fresh water  from destroyers to make cups of tea. Finally George was wounded in Italy  and he was sent to ordinance. He was very relieved and served there until he finished his service. George later emigrated to Australia  with his family. He marched every Anzac Day to remember fallen friends. My husband would always ring up his father on the night  before Anzac Day to wish him luck on the march and to tell him he was proud of him. He talked about us all going over to watch George one day in the  march. One day as I dropped my daughter off at kinder I realised that the next day was Anzac Day. I looked for books on the bookshelves to explain this but there were none for the appropriate age. So a title "My Grandad  Marches on Anzac Day" was born. After I wrote the book, the whole family  travelled to South Australia to watch George march in the parade. Our  Grandad was very proud. Sadly George passed away before the book was published.  But every Anzac Day we will remember our Grandad. The book is about the  importance of remembering and part of that is listening. To all the stories  that make up the wonderful characters that are in everyone's family. George did get to see the proofs before he died. Typically, George said "But I've got more medals than that!" This particular  book is very special to our family and a lovely tribute to a great character. George was proud of his years of service in the armed  forces but thought that wars were started by the rich and the greedy while  it was poor Irishmen who ended up getting shot.   The Music Tree My second book, The Music Tree was actually my first. But due to the strangeness of the publishing world, its release date is after "Grandad."  This story was written about my best friend Sandy and her little boy Liam.  Liam loved to hit things with sticks as most boys do. One day Sandy burst  into my kitchen saying that she was so annoyed with this bashing that she had made a music tree in her back yard. It's still there, even though Liam has grown up a lot since I wrote the  story. And I like to think that on hot and sweltering evenings there is  always a little magic around. Liam had to wait a very long time for his book but finally he was able to  come along to the launch and join his class as they played Music Tree Music.