If you want an account of my early life and times, to know how someone finally turns into a writer, I wrote an autobiography called Auto Da Fay in 2002. That was when I was 70. Not all that much interesting has happened since. Though I don’t know – I daresay if I wrote it up it could be made quite entertaining. But the sad truth is, my theory goes, that no-one is much interested in what happens to women after they turn 35. Which is the age at which I stopped Auto da Fay: the age I stopped living and started writing instead, as a serious person.
I buried the rest of the autobiography in three more novels, Mantrapped, She May Not Leave, and Kehua! bringing the story up to this very year. If you are interested, they await deciphering and scholastic enquiry.
In the meanwhile reviews of Auto Da Fay will give you an encapsulated version of my mildly scandalous life until my mid thirties. After that I became serious.