I am making time this afternoon to write a post, which I have (as you can see above) entitled ‘Catching my breath’. It’s a ‘fake it ’til you make it’ type strategy as I am professionally breathless.
I am still working fulltime and getting up every day to put in an hour or two of writing/editing/author biz before work. But soonI will be paring back to .9 (woo hoo), giving me every other Friday off to write like a little writing fiend.
When asked about my WIP (work in progress) I currently respond with, ‘which one?’ ’cause there is a little bit going on in my author world.
Status update:
My travel romcom series recently got a name: The Holiday Romance series
My third book got a name – not officially shouted out on social media yet, but it will be A Sunset in Sydney
The same cover artist who created the covers for Books 1 and 2 is – as you read this – creating a gorgeous depiction of Sydney (squee)
In January, I finished the first draft of my Christmas novel (coming in October), called The Christmas Swap
I am completing structural edits for A Sunset in Sydney right now (well, not right right now, as I am writing this post)
When structural edits are handed over, I go back to a re-write of The Christmas Swap which is due at the end of March
Once that’s handed over, I will get copy edits back for A Sunset in Sydney
In the midst of all this, I am working on the launch of Book 2, That Night in Paris (April 15 – pre-order now!)
In June, I go to the UK to attend the HarperCollins author party, the RNA Conference, and to meet my editor and agent in the personage
While in the UK, I will go up to Edinburgh for research, as it is the setting for the second half of my 5th book, the 4th book in The Holiday Romance series, which is about a supporting character from Book 2 (did you get all that?)
Also while in the UK, A Sunset in Sydney will be published, so lots to do in the lead up to that!
And once back from that trip, in early August, I will be finishing Book 5 and will receive structural edits for The Christmas Swap
Actual picture of me when I’m killing it:
And sometimes me:
But also me:
I really, really, really, love being an author and I am still pinching myself.
It is Australia Day 2020. January 26th is a contentious date, because it marks the arrival of the First Fleet―the first European settlers who arrived in Australia in 1788.
Of course, by commemorating this date, Australia ignores that in 1788 we were already populated by hundreds of nations of Indigenous Australians forming the world’s oldest civilisation. January 26th marks the date of an invasion and the beginning of a genocide.
This post isn’t about whether or not we should change the date of Australia Day, although we absolutely should. This post is a love letter to my home, my country, my Australia.
Byron Bay
Ocean Beach WA
The Gap at Albany WA
My Australia
My Australia is the person at the tram stop who sees that you’re lost and points you in the right direction with a smile. My Australia is the person at the party who draws the introverts into conversation, and makes sure everyone is heard. My Australia has a hearty sense of humour―often bawdy, always self-deprecating, and sometimes a defence mechanism.
My Australia has skin, eyes, and hair of every colour, and is all genders, faiths, and identities, for My Australia is all of us. We have lived here 60 000 years and 6 days. Our roots are deep and just starting to grow. What we share is beyond cosmetic; it is a connection―to each other, to our land, to our country.
My Australia bears scars―from when we went to wars and defended our shores, from being ravaged by fires, floods, cyclones, and drought, from dark times of hatred, anger, and entitlement, bearing those scars with humility, pride, or shame.
My Australia reaches out when someone is in need. We rally, we show up, we dig into our pockets―we care. We weep together, lean on each other, support and cajole each other. We extend our hands willingly, not afraid of the blisters or back-breaking pain we’ll incur as we rebuild.
My Australia is not the scurrilous and self-serving politicians who banter obscenities at each other and extol the virtues of ‘clean coal’. It is not the hatemongers or nationalists or the bigots. These people are the minority, one that is slowly dying out.
My Australia is adventurous and intrepid, both at home and abroad, with well-stamped passports and battered luggage, with postcards that loved ones have sent from the corners of the earth taped to the fridge, with plans for trips and getaways and long weekends and stay-cations. We must go, see, and do.
My Australia loves the sea, the sun, and the sand, we love the deserts and sunrises and sunsets, we love the rain forests and eucalypts, our native animals* and red, rocky monoliths. We love the bustle and energy of our cities with their sky-scraping towers, and the warm friendly welcome of our country towns, where the local pub feels like home.
My Australia is brilliant, with an intelligent mind, a creative spirit, grit, athleticism, and the ability to see the future. We are doctors, scientists, artists, teachers, communicators, technicians, builders, athletes, and change-makers. We are on the edge of the future, speaking up, taking risks, saving lives with medical breakthroughs and art that feeds the soul. We build, create, and solve. We are―as always―batting far above our average on the world stage, a tiny nation of 25 million achieving wondrous things. We also make the best wine and coffee in the world.
My Australia is home―my home, our home.
And though she is being ravaged as I write this, I have to believe she will recover, wearing her scars with pride as we come together and rebuild.
And on our current bushfire and climate crisis, this image by artist, Melina, evokes what I struggle to put into words.
*Except maybe the spiders―we have some really, scary spiders.
It’s that time again! Time to reflect on the year that was and absolve myself from those niggling ‘shoulds’ that I just can’t bring myself to do.
So, in time for the kick-off to the 2020s, I absolve myself of …
Finishing my ‘to be read’ list before buying new books
I LOVE books – as in, I love them so much I should marry them. I once said that if the TBR list on my Kindle was a stack of books on my bedside table and it fell on me in the night, it would crush me and I would die.
That’s still true.
And even though I feel guilty about the ones I haven’t read yet, I won’t stop buying books. It’s because of that moment when I’m contemplating ‘next read’ and I have so many options that I can find exactly what I’m in the mood for.
So, no more guilt. I’ll just keep buying all the books. BUYING. ALL. THE. BOOKS!
Taking up running (again)
I used to be a runner. I ran here, I ran there, I ran all over the darned place. Then I got runner’s arthritis and had foot surgery (it hurt worse than the arthritis for more than a year). And I kept promising myself I’d get back to running, because the truth is (and I know that may change what you think of me), I love to run.
LOVE IT!
It’s my meditation, it clears my head at the end of a long day, it fuels my creativity, it revs me up at the start of the day, and it does wonders for my legs. Or, it did. It’s been years since I ran regularly. It’s just too painful on that foot – not during the run, but afterwards and sometimes for days.
Still, that niggling promise rears its head from time to time.
So, new promise: no more running. I am, however, contemplating a new spin bike…
Doing keto
Keto is a fantastic way for some people to manage their sugar sensitivity, break their sugar addiction, lose weight, and live a healthy life. (BTW, if you think keto is eating as much bacon as you like, that’s not accurate and it’s worth reading up.)
Yet …
Having tried several stints of keto over the past 18 months, ever since I started learning about the health benefits, I know for sure that it is not for me.
I have a sensitivity to artificial sweeteners and to high fat food, even if it is good fat. I never get to the point where I feel great and have loads of energy. Keto has never once made me feel better, so never again.
However, I do intermittent fasting (intermittently – a couple of times a week) and that works amazingly to make me feel great.
Going 100% digital
My partner, Ben, is something of a tech aficionado and he’s tech savvy to the point of savantness. Thinking back over 2019, I can count the times I’ve seen him put pen to paper on one hand – and they were signing cards or documents.
I, on the other hand, am passionate about all things paper. I write lists, I scribble reminders on Post-its, I muse into notebooks (love me a good notebook), I write my character profiles by hand, and in my day job, I will sketch out plans and ideas on butcher’s paper. A stationery store is the mother ship to me.
So, no matter how many tech tools get designed and made to replicate all these paper-driven activities, I will fiercely hold onto my pen and will wield it to organise, plan, pontificate, create, and remind.
After all, the pen is mightier than the latest piece of software.
That’s all for this year. I wish you all the best for 2020 – may it be filled with grand adventures and lots of what makes you happy.
And remember to add a comment to this post with your absolutions …
The past 6 months of ‘authorhood’ has seen me juggling quite a few projects and responsibilities. I am not complaining—it has been an incredible ride—but I tend to re-prioritise (nearly) daily.
In March, after job-hunting for a couple of months, I was notified that I’d landed a fulltime job at the company I’d worked for prior to my sabbatical. I was concurrently signing with HarperCollins. Timing wise, I would have about a month before I started fulltime work and received my structural edits for my debut novel.
I got to work, starting Book 4 in my travel romcom series, about a character called Jaelee (who you will meet in Book 2) taking herself off to Bali on sabbatical. In a month, I got 50000 words in.
Then I started my new job and received my structural edits, so Book 4 was left in the drawer. Once my edits went back to the publisher, I started on the marketing for my debut. With my agent and publisher, we teed up early readers and a book blog tour, and I shouted out about pre-orders. I built my online presence even more.
My debut launched at the end of June.
In July, I participated in Camp NaNoWriMo, tasking myself with writing as much as possible of a stand-alone Christmas novella, an idea that had arrived overnight in late June. I wrote 35000 words of the novella in July—while working fulltime and marketing my debut.
In August, I sent my half-finished novella to my agent, who loved it and had feedback. I tweaked it, and the manuscript, along with a lengthy synopsis of ‘what happens next’, went off to my Editor. I can’t say too much about this at the moment, but watch this space (hint, hint, it’s good news).
September came and I learned the publication date for Book 2 was being bumped up three months. EDITING TIME!!! The book was written, but I hadn’t touched it since January, so I gave it a comprehensive structural edit—particularly important as when I wrote it, it was 3rd in the series and now it will be 2nd, so some chronology to fix.
I sent the edits off in September and went back to Book 3 (which I wrote 2nd), conducting a similar structural edit to tighten up the writing and fix the chronology. I am about 70% through that edit, but I’ve just received edits for Book 2 back from my Editor, so I am switching gears again.
When Book 2 edits have been handed back, I can wrap up my edits of Book 3, which I will aim to have done by the end of the month.
But, back to the Christmas book or Book 4 in the series, both unfinished? I really want to do NaNoWriMo next month, with the lofty goal of 50000 in 30 days. BUT, the last time I did it (75000 words in 3 weeks!) I wasn’t working fulltime. Writing was my only job. And marketing for book 2 will start soon…
Mostly, the juggling feels like this:
But sometimes, it’s like this:
And occasionally, like this:
But on the whole, I love this ‘being an author’ gig.
On Goodreads, all reviews 3 stars and over are considered positive. Goodreads will even tell you what percentage of readers liked your book. At the moment, 93% of people ‘like’ One Summer in Santorini.
Or, to look at it another way, 7% of people disliked or even hated my book.
One review was so scathing, I followed the breadcrumbs to the reader’s blog and she’d posted ‘Ten Reasons I Hated This Book’. Of course, I read them – all of them. Some reasons had me wondering why she’d picked up the book in the first place – she hates love triangles, for instance and the blurb mentions the love triangle. Other reasons indicated that she hadn’t actually read the book – which was confirmed at the end when she wrote ‘I skim read most of it.’
The thing was, the book didn’t engage her enough for her to actually read it – and that’s okay. Sarah, a protagonist who is very like I was at her age, is not for everyone – just like I wasn’t, just like I am not everyone’s cup of tea now. And that’s okay.
Some 3-star reviews rave about the book, which indicates that for those readers, 3 stars is high praise. Thank you, readers.
I’ve read reviews where the reader is cross about the ending (no spoilers). I’d love to reply that it is slice of life – just that moment in time – and that I’ve written two follow-ups (one a direct sequel), which will be published in 2020.
Replying to reviews is, however, a no-no.
So, why do I read reviews at all?
Simply, because the good ones feel amazing – validation that the hundreds, if not thousands, of hours I spent in isolation getting the story down and honing it, were worth it.
I’ve read reviews where the reader says how much the theme of the book – falling back in love with life – resonated with them, and that they want a bigger life, just like Sarah. That means so much to me. I also love hearing that the book is a ‘fun beach read’, because that’s one of the genres I love reading, too.
So, no, authors probably shouldn’t read reviews – or at least, we shouldn’t obsess over the ‘bad reviews’. But as long as we go into it knowing that our book will not be for everyone – that some people will find it boring, or the protagonist annoying, or the ending frustrating – then we can take the bad ones with a grain of salt. Because for some readers, our book will brighten their day.
I first published this meme in March 2008, borrowed from the Sunday newspaper supplement. So little has changed that I’m re-posting it almost intact. Anything in blue is new.
My earliest memory is being in hospital. I was 18 months old, and was there because I had stopped breathing. I was sitting at a small wooden table with other kids, eating Weetbix for breakfast. Later I went missing. They found me in the men’s room, peeking into the showers. (I started young.)
At school I was bossy, too smart for my own good, and a bit of a loner. I excelled in handstands and asking too many questions. In high school I quit the handstands, but was still hugely unpopular, because I had a Texan accent (from living in Texas – not just for fun), and wore makeup in a school full of Aussie chicks who preferred sneakers with skirts and bare faces.
My first relationship was with Shane (I forget his last name). We were 10 years old. He let me look at his Star Wars book, which had photographs from the film. I secretly wanted to be with Mark Hamill, but we were together for almost a whole month.
I don’t like talking about injuries, surgery, childbirth and other gory stuff. Just talking about it creeps me out.
I wish I’d never worn glasses without lenses in them, because I thought they looked cool. It was the 80s. Enough said.
My parents always told me that I could tell them anything, and that I should travel widely and pursue my dreams.
I wish I had straight hair. (still true)
I wish I hadn’t obsessed about a boy called Jeremy all through high school.
My last meal would be in Greece: fresh bread, tomatoes, tzatziki and olive oil. (still true)
I am very bad at ball sports. Just don’t throw it, kick it or pass it to me.
Friends say I am funny, naughty, talented, bold, generous.
The song I would like played at my funeral is Nessun Dorma. For some reason, this used to be Wonderwall, by Oasis.
If only I couldmake a living solely as an author. (soon, I hope)
The last big belly laugh I had was with Ben yesterday – he has a terrific sense of humour. The response from 2008 was about Ben too.
What I don’t find amusing is inconsideration. In traffic, at the gym, in shops. Not funny, not cool, not nice.
Cat or dog. Cat. I miss having a cat.
If I were a car I’d be Seriously? This is a question? Why not, ‘If I were a tree I’d be’? Or ‘If I were an animal I’d be’? (A Peugot 307, a camouflage gum, a turtle – just in case you were wondering). Silly question. (still all true though)
I often wonder how things will work out. They always do – often better than I could imagine – but it doesn’t stop me wondering.
It’s been four months since Ben and I moved back to Melbourne post-sabbatical, and it has been anything but dull.
Since arriving in late January:
We apartment hunted for the perfect rental and were elated to get a place in the heart of the city with an incredible view. It has an office for me, enough space for Ben’s VR set-up, a guest room, a winter garden and a wrap around balcony. I love it.
our view
I job-hunted and landed a plum role in professional development (a field I love) at my pre-sabbatical employer, which just happens to be across the street. As in, my commute is about one minute (please don’t hate me). So far, I haven’t bothered to wear a coat or take an umbrella, because, well, one minute – plus most of the walk is under cover. My work has already taken me to Adelaide (twice) and I work with incredibly smart people, who maintain an impressive chocolate stash in the office (this may be why I choose to work from home a couple of days per week – too much temptation).
This was my desk when I arrived at work on my birthday.
Ben has become an Australian! I wept like a weeping willow throughout the ceremony, but at least had the presence of mind to take photos. When the Lord Mayor of Melbourne had the Aussies in the gallery stand up and make the oath to Australia, just like the newly-minted Australians, I could barely get the words out. #ProudAussie #SoProudofBen
We’ve caught up with friends. Our friends in Melbourne are our family-away-from-family and we adore them. Especially fab are the ones who popped around to put together flat-pack furniture, although they all assured me that they love doing it (weird). My bestie personally made our couch from scratch – impressive stuff. I promise I plied them all with good food and booze for their efforts.
We’ve had visitors! We love having people come and stay with us. The most recent guests spent the week of my birthday with us, my dad and step-mum. They helped me celebrate a milestone birthday with style. Here’s my pre-party dad rocking a fab new outfit at the age of 71.
We’ve planned a trip across the country. This week we head of to my home state of WA to celebrate some more milestone birthdays in the family, and my belated birthday trip. (I have pretty much perfected the concept of the birthday festival, which can extended several weeks in either direction from my actual birthday.) We’ll be catching up with family and friends and then heading south to the stunning wine region of Margaret River. I’ve checked the forecast and can’t believe that the first week of June (winter down here in Oz) will be sunny and 25C (high 70s).
From our last time in WA
Maybe not so surprisingly, we haven’t been in a hurry to travel. Home is so precious to us post-sabbatical. This is our first trip together since we landed back in the country in January.
And there’s the author stuff. I’ve secured an agent; I’ve written more than half of my fourth book; I’ve edited my first book for my publisher, Avon Books; I’ve been marketing my little bum off: organising a book blog tour with my agent, doing interviews, securing quotes from other (amazingly supportive) authors, planning a book signing, and engaging with readers daily on social media; and I have celebrated all the little milestones on the journey to publication – T-minus 3 weeks and 6 days for the ebook and just under two months from the print version being in my eager little hands. Squee!
So, yes, 2019 has been an incredible ride so far. We’re looking forward to the rest of it.
I met with a financial advisor once – once. When he asked about my long-term plans (career, finances, retirement), I replied that I would probably never truly retire, because one day I’d be an author and I would continue to write ’til the day I stopped breathing.
He laughed at me. Out loud. Then he tilted his head and gave me a pitying look. I asked him to leave and went back to my desk and wrote a chapter.
That was in 2001.
I finished that manuscript, a travel biography of my year as a Contiki Tour Manager, then stuck it in a drawer. For years.
I dusted it off once and gave it to a writer friend. “This should be a novel,” she said, so I started turning it into a novel. In late 2012, I got 70000 words into a re-write, then queried it to an agent in Australia. He loved the first three chapters and immediately asked for the rest.
“This isn’t your first book,” he said on the phone a few days later. “It’s good – you’re an excellent writer – but you’re not Liane Moriarty. There are too many narratives, too many characters. Go and write a single narrative – a simple story. Then come back to me.”
Encouraged, I did.
Mining my own (sometimes interesting) life, I turned my true-life love story into a novel. I wrote You Might Meet Someone about a woman in her late-thirties, who – post-breakup – is fed up with men and takes herself on holiday to Greece, sailing the Cyclades Islands. Everyone tells her how she might meet someone – so condescending and unhelpful – but she just wants to travel and soak up the briny air and sunshine. Of course, she does meet someone – make that two someones.
(Aside: in real life, there was only one someone and he is still my someone.)
I went back to the agent. “Hi, do you remember me?” – that sort of thing. He did and said he’d read the first three chapters. Loved them and later that day, he asked for the rest. The next morning, well before I’d had my first cup of tea, I got the call. He’d read it twice and loved it. ‘Eat, Sail, Love,’ he called it.
He represented me for a year – per our contract – to no avail. No publishing deal. In retrospect, my synopsis and pitch were ‘off’, but my agent thought I should add some ‘danger’ to the book – apparently, danger was selling at the time. I wondered how I could do that. How could I turn a travel romcom into a book with danger? We parted ways amicably and I put the book in a (metaphorical) drawer. That was 2015.
In 2016 Ben and I had been together nearly 10 years and we decided to celebrate our real-life ‘meet cute’ with another sailing trip around the Greek Islands with the same skipper.
On return from that wondrous trip, I was inspired to pull out the book and give it another pass. “Why don’t you self-publish on Kindle?” asked my supportive love. I percolated on that question for a short while, gave the book a final edit, handed it off to a colleague with editorial chops, collaborated with a cover artist in London, and – bottom lip firmly between my teeth – published it on Kindle.
My book was out there. I was an author.
Fast forward to our sabbatical in 2018 and I wrote the sequel (also published on Kindle), then book three in the series. Sarah (books one and two) and her sister, Cat (book three), came to life. The men they loved, their travel adventures, their friendships, their internal battles, their journeys to love, came to life.
Concurrently, I soaked up as much as I could about author life. I took a course on building my author profile and engaged with fellow authors on Twitter. I read widely – both within my genre and about the business of being an author.
As I embarked on the indie author path, I tweaked and honed and finessed my pitches to book bloggers, agents and publishers. I joined author communities. I sought and gave feedback. I engaged beta readers and I became a beta reader – I learned what a beta reader is and why they are so important to the writing process. I entered contests and Twitter pitches, and was featured on book blogs and UKRomChat (hi, lovelies – I adore you so much!). I even did my first NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and smashed it, writing 70000 words of my third book in three weeks.
I worked my little Aussie bum off.
Along the way, I made friends with some incredibly talented, generous, and supportive people – most of whom I’ve yet to meet face to face. I became part of the writing community.
Excitingly, my blood, sweat and lots of tears – a.k.a. ‘hard work’ – is now paying off. I have a new agent, the inimitable Lina Langlee of the Kate Nash Literary Agency in the UK, and she has secured me a two-book deal (!) with a soon-to-be-named imprint of a soon-to-be-named (big five) publishing house.
It’s happening. I am being published – by a world-renowned publisher.
I am embarking on a long-distance, long-term relationship with an agent who loves my work and believes in me, and a publishing house who described my writing as ‘beautifully sumptuous and evocative’.
So, as I commence writing my fourth book, as I assemble the dream cast for the movies of my books, as I continue to work in a field I (also) love and am great at – adult education – I am humbled, excited, terrified, vindicated, grateful, and … well, I am an author.
p.s. Doesn’t Lina Langlee have the best name ever?
p.s.p.s. If you read either of my first two books while they were out in the world, thank you. They’ll be back. (pssst, please leave a review on Goodreads)
p.s.p.s.p.s. Thank you to William (Bill) Aicher of the Indie Author Coalition; Aimee Brown, fellow romance author and leader amongst women; DC Wright-Hammer, who shines the spotlight on fellow authors; Rebecca Langham, who started #AusWrites on Twitter (often the highlight of my day); Jeanna, Eilidh, Lucy and all my fellow authors of UKRomChat on Twitter (always the highlight of my romance author week); Allison and Valerie from the Australian Writers’ Centre; and Jen and Kerry from The Business of Books. Thank you Lindsey Kelk, my favourite author who (actually) replies to my emails. And thank you to my friend, Mike Curato, who took a leap of faith to become a best-selling artist and author.
p.s.p.s.p.s.p.s. Thank you Ben and my sis and my family and Lins and Jen and all my lovely friends. x
Those of you who followed our sabbatical journey will know that we spent most of 2018 living (and often working) abroad. I blogged throughout the year, with posts specifically about the sabbatical at the half-way mark, and then again on the home stretch.
We’ve been back in Australia about six weeks now, and have just moved into our new home in Docklands. As I interview for fulltime work, as I’m about to sign a publishing contract for my first book, and as I unpack and find new homes for our belongings, it’s a good time to reflect on our year of sabbatical life.
The days are long and the weeks go by fast
A dear friend we made in Bali, where we lived for two months, reflected that when she looked back, the weeks seemed to be flying by, but that each day felt full and long.
I can honestly say that this is how I felt for most of the year.
When I am present, when I live the breadth and depth of each day, they seem longer, fuller. I want to carry that feeling with me, to bottle that secret sauce, because it makes life feel more purposeful and I’m more content.
Ubud Bali
Porto Portugal
Sunset in Minnesota by Ben Reierson
A sense of accomplishment
As well as consulting for clients (writing, editing, and review educational materials), I wrote and edited two books. TWO WHOLE BOOKS, each 100,000 words. I wrote 200,000 words – funny, heartfelt narratives set in beautiful locations. I made up people, their lives and their adventures. I created from nothing the things they said and did – well, I borrowed some anecdotes from loved ones, but for the most part, those fictional people came to life in my head.
I worked on building my author platform, engaging with readers and authors from around the world, learning from them, supporting them, befriending them. I’ve made some wonderful literary friends over the past year – people I can contact with questions and requests, people who can rely on me for support and help if they need it. I will champion them and their writing, and they will do the same for me.
I also queried publishers and agents, honing my messaging about me and my books. I am proud and excited to say that I recently got a big fat YES from a UK-based publisher, which I will announce officially once I’ve signed the contract. Because of this sabbatical, my first book is being traditionally published and I will get to hold my book in my hands. The others will hopefully follow (squee!).
Writing by the pool in Bali
With fellow author Lucy from Wales
With my favourite author Lindsey Kelk
Writing with a view of Amsterdam
Feeding my soul
We lived in and visited some beautiful, exciting, and vibrant places. Bali, Portugal, Scotland, Ireland, rural Minnesota, London, the British Midlands, Amsterdam, Seattle, LA, Wales, New Zealand and my home state of Western Australia. Natural beauty, architectural wonders, history, and wildlife in copious doses. Our everyday life was a wonderful cacophony of sights, sounds, smells and tastes that we happily steeped ourselves in.
Walking the streets of Ubud, the sun beating down, the humidity hanging heavy in the air, the heady scent of tropical flowers mixing with petrol fumes and Indonesian spices – this became my idea of heaven.
Spending time with loved ones also fed my soul. Catching up with family and friends in WA, LA, Seattle, Minnesota, the UK, Ireland, and Amsterdam was a highlight. Living with Ben’s family and mine for extended periods of time was something special. Cooking a mid-week meal for people I love is – and has long been – a great pleasure for me. Chatting over that meal, as we recount our days, our mini-triumphs and challenges, heightens that joy.
‘Quality time’ it’s called. We all need that type of time with our loved ones. Even though I’ve lived my adult life ‘away’ from most of my family, I long for those times when I can look across the dinner table and meet the eyes of someone I love dearly but don’t see in person very often. The thing about being a traveller, someone who lives ‘away’ – you always miss someone. It’s the curse of the ex-pat. I had a year of topping up my soul with quality loved-ones time.
Christmas (UK)
Grandma Ellie (MN)
With my Dad (WA)
With my mum (WA)
With my nephew (UK)
With our dear friend, Sinead (Ireland)
And, wonderfully, we made some very dear new friends from across the world.
Secret Beach
Ubud with Lyndall
Dinner out in Ubud
Chicago with Kelly
The things you miss
Things are just things, really. We attach meaning to them. As I unpack boxes and find places for our things in our new home, I know (deep down) they’re just things, but they make me feel at home. Books I’ve loved, souvenirs and artefacts from our travels, family photos, my good knives, my cannisters (yes, really) – these things ‘spark joy’ as Marie Kondo would say. It’s nice to rediscover these things. Do I need them? No, I don’t. I spent the year with my clothes, toiletries and a stack of rectangles (laptop, iPad, Kindle, phone). I can live without things. For now, though, I will especially enjoy them.
I did really missed drawers, though. Like, really, totally, absolutely, completely missed putting my clothes into drawers. Even when we stayed somewhere for weeks or months, we kept our clothes in our packing cubes. Drawers are luxurious. Next time you take an article of clothing out of a drawer, just savour that feeling.
The things you get used to
In Bali, we slathered ourselves in sunscreen and showered several times a day. It was hot and humid and 80% of our time was spent outdoors. My hair looked like wool. And even so, Bali was my favourite place we lived in. I’d live there again in a heartbeat.
I am a creative home cook. In Bali, I cooked with tempeh for the first time and it became a staple. At the lake cabin in Minnesota, I had an electric frying pan and a microwave – that’s it – and I cooked a variety of dishes. In Portugal, it was difficult to get good fresh food – produce, dairy and proteins – but I adapted. In the UK (before and after Portugal), I was cooking for five instead of two, and three of the adults were eating Keto. Spoiled for fresh produce, because you are in the UK, I made giant pots of Keto-friendly stews, red sauces and soups.
I can write anywhere – and did. A sunlounger, a beach, a cafe (many cafes), the kitchen table (in many different kitchens), on planes and trains, and even on a boat. The world was my writing room. I loved it.
Uluwatu
Minnesota
Minnesota
Ubud
My big takeaways
I love Australia. It’s home – Melbourne especially. It’s a terrific city and we have loved ones here. I was happy to come back and I am excited to start the next chapter here.
Our new view
I would do a sabbatical year again – or create a life where we live abroad for several months every year. There was a time when that thought terrified me – now I think it will become essential to us.
Ben is an incredibly brave, wonderful, supportive, imaginative person. “Why don’t we trade a year of retirement for now,” he said a couple of years ago. I am so grateful he did, but even more so that he gently nudged me to make the commitment. He is my bestie, my partner-in-crime, my travel buddy, my champion, my love. Thank you, Ben, for being all those things and more.
How do you thank someone for being the love of your life?
How do you thank someone for truly seeing you and bringing out your best self – your authentic, brave, beautiful, intrepid, generous, creative self?
How do you thank someone for loving you because of – not despite – your myriad of contradictions, flaws, and infuriating habits?
How do you thank someone for seeing the wondrous possibilities, even when you can’t?
How do you thank someone for trusting their heart to you, for letting you see them in their most vulnerable moments?
How do you thank someone for believing in you when self-doubt asserts itself, for championing your efforts as much as your successes?
How do you thank someone for holding you when the pain is extreme – in body, soul, or mind?
How do you thank someone for sharing an in-joke with just a look, for making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe?
How do you thank someone for sharing their family, their childhood memories, their oldest friends with you, making you feel like you’ve always belonged?
How do you thank someone for challenging your mind, for questioning things you’ve always believed, for the mental jousting that makes for great fun?
How do you thank someone for loving your family, for welcoming them, for knowing they must sometimes come first?
How do you thank someone for being your home?
How do you thank someone for being the love of your life?
Sandy Barker | Author 
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