So yesterday I worked at the library – but because I don’t start till after 10, I quickly roughed out a piece of my plot I needed to research and fill. There could be an entire book from this one piece: an English WW1 orphan is sent to Australia as a 3yo and is quietly adopted by a distant relative in a small town (and never told). She was my main character’s mother, and will never understand why she didn’t fit into that family, or the world, really….
QUESTION: why do I write my stories backwards? I killed her off months ago, (well, she killed herself actually), and here is a great ah ha moment. So many ideas come from looking back!
Now talking of looking back and finding another picture in a picture… how about this… in August I visited my sister in Brisbane and looking at an old family photo she had framed. She’d told the framer to crop the photo to suit and he said, “I didn’t want to crop it, I couldn’t take out that lady in the corner….”
I looked, and looked. “Huh?”
Hello Mum. You made me cry that day.
My Word 
Oh gosh, how precious and unexpected!
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