The Story Room
Not a blog. A room for stories, questions and discoveries that won’t always fit between the covers of a novel.
Some stories begin with research. Others with a place, a name, an unanswered question, or something I notice while walking through the world.
This is where I share them.
Why letters?
Letters have always meant something to me.
In 1935, my maternal grandmother, Josephine Vercoe, was the postmistress at Paengaroa in New Zealand. On my father’s side, in the little valley of Goorangoola in New South Wales, my family ran the telephone exchange and post office.
On opposite sides of the Tasman, both sides of my family found themselves doing something remarkably similar — helping people stay connected. Letters were carried. News was shared. Voices travelled down telephone lines. Stories found their way from one person to another.
Then I married a Baird — a name with its roots in the bard, the storyteller.
Perhaps it was inevitable that when I imagined this room, I imagined letters.
So these are mine to you.
Letters from the places I visit, the people I discover, the questions I carry and the stories that ask to be told.
Open whichever one calls to you.
Stories in this part of the room will appear as they are written.
More stories are waiting to be told.
Join the Circle for new stories, discoveries and a first glimpse of what comes next.
