Q: For those readers who do not know you, give us a
little background info, like where you’re from, where
you grew up etc.
A: I grew up in the little post-war suburb of Bergvliet about 20
minutes from Cape Town and just a stone’s throw away from
the more up-market suburb of Constantia. I have three younger
brothers and a stepsister. My parents divorced when I was about
20, my dad died at around 70 and my mom, at time of going to
press, is still happily alive at 94.
Q: You’ve had a variety of careers but only at your last
salaried job with Reader’s Digest were you actually
employed as a writer. How did that happen?
A: I had my first article published in the Cape Times newspaper
when I was 13. And I trained as a journalist after matriculating.
But my dad, a journalist himself, felt it wasn’t a career for a girl.
He insisted I start out on something safe ... and so my first job
was as a draughtswoman with the City Council of Cape Town.
And I guess you don’t get jobs much safer that ... even today.
Q: But if a career in writing was your passion from
such a young age surely you were frustrated not to be
employed as a writer?
A: Well, yes, I didn’t write for the Council nor for any of the other
jobs I had, of which there were many over the years. Because, in
my teens, I had this romantic idea that I couldn’t be told what to
write, or when, or how. So I guess I wasn’t employable as one.
But I did always write ... for magazines, newspapers, leaflets, and
cards for friends ... just anything to do with words. Along with
horses, writing is my abiding passion and has been all my life.
Q: After leaving Reader’s Digest I see you also worked
for many years as a freelance advertising copywriter.
But all that is very different from writing a book. When
did you decide to embark on a book project and what
was your motivation behind it?
A: Well I’ve been out, gay and kind of proud most of my life. So
when about the hundredth acquaintance (even semi-strangers
have clasped my hand in aguish over this issue) turned to me
tearfully asking, “What am I going to do ... my son/daughter/
nephew/etc. has turned gay?” It flashed through my mind that
I’d love to be able to reach into my handbag, get out a book and
say, “It’s not as bad as you think ... here I’ve got just the book
for you.” But that book hadn’t been written and at aged 60 I felt
that I might have that very boo