By a miracle of luck (this is very unusual) a koala had come to visit and was sitting comfortably in the fork of a gum tree-a eucalyptus-in our back garden. My dad was in the early stages of dementia at the time. Then I forgot about it.Ībout a year later my parents came to dinner. So when a child wrote to me and suggested I write a story about a magic hat I pretty much ignored it, but I did put the letter in a file. If it doesn’t come from my own life in one way or another it will lose its authentic feel and prevent me from connecting to my readers. I never accept other people’s suggestions or ideas for a particular book, even though people often say to me: ‘You could write a book about that!’ The ideas have to come from what I call ‘the compost of my own life’: my life, no one else’s.
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