How a Five-Minute Breakthrough Saved My Book

Writing this book required countless hours of digging through old records, recorded stories, and architectural photos in the quiet corners of Lane Cove Library. But I quickly hit a wall.

The problem wasn’t a lack of material - it was an overload. I was drowning in a century’s worth of tantalising, incredulous true stories spanning three generations and two families. I wanted to include absolutely everything. For two painful years, I wrestled with the sheer weight of this rich history, completely stuck on where my story should actually begin or end.

Desperate for a way out, I finally engaged a writing mentor. In just five minutes, she’d solved my problems of structure with two simple pieces of advice:

“This is not one book - it’s two, or even three. And don’t feel forced to start at the chronological beginning. Start with the voice that speaks to you the loudest.”

The answer was staring me right in the face.

My Aunt Val

A retired midwife with a fiery crown of red hair, Val was tiny in stature but larger than life. She was eager, alive, and ready to see her niece put pen to paper (especially if it included her name). Capturing Val’s world was pure chaos in the best way. She would launch into hilarious tales of her hospital days, fabulous characters she’d worked with at King George V Hospital, her time nursing in Canada and her multiple engagements to wealthy - but completely incompatible doctors.

Because she refused to wait for me to set up my old-fashioned recording device, I scribbled like a fiend just to catch every colourful character and entertaining twist. And that was how I started – with Val and her best friend Penny in the late 1960s.

And before you ask – An Unlikely Home is book one in the series I’ve called Behind the Façade!

I’d love to hear from you: Have you ever tried to tackle a massive family history project? How did you find your starting point?

I find it helpful to assemble a mood board for each of the main characters. Putting a face – real or imagined to their voice is vital for me.

Here are some photos of Aunt Val from the 1960s.