A red dress.
A pond.
A season changing.
It became a collection of letters.
A candid, warm, and quietly funny reflection on a life that is anything but ordinary.
Letters From the Wild is a memoir in letters about the small, ordinary moments that quietly shape a life.
Across two volumes, you will move through childhood, first love, heartache, early adulthood, motherhood, family, ageing parents and all the messy, funny, tender moments in between.
These aren’t letters about the big milestones.
They’re about the things that happen around them.
Letters from the Wild, Volume 1
The early years. First heartbreak. Navigating adolescence. Becoming a young woman.
Volume 1 begins at the beginning.
You will be taken through the ordinary moments that become part of us: childhood summers, first loves, things left unsaid, heartbreaks, friendships, growing up and slowly becoming yourself.
A dress.
A pond.
A season changing.
Small things that, years later, turn out not to have been so small after all.
Letters from the Wild, Volume 2
Motherhood. Ageing parents. Chaos. Love.
Volume 2 moves into the messy middle of life.
Clingy toddlers. Mum guilt. Endless mess. Forgotten lunches. Shifting relationships. No space. No quiet.
And then, somehow, the moments that make it worthwhile.
A laugh in the kitchen.
A shared glance.
A quiet cup of coffee before the house wakes.
Alongside the realities of early motherhood, Volume 2 explores the quieter challenges of watching your parents age and the strange experience of being needed in so many directions at once.
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What readers are saying about Letters From the Wild
“I wait for the kids to fall asleep, then make a cup of tea and read a chapter.”
“Wow. I love reading your stories. They are so accurate and real.”
“I nod along to every single one.”
The story behind the books
I started writing after visiting my grandmother in the nursing home.
She had slowly been succumbing to dementia, and she didn’t know who I was.
She didn’t even know who my mother was.
And she was her mum.
I was thick in the throes of early motherhood at the time, and until then, I hadn’t really thought about what it would mean to forget.
Not properly.
Not until I watched it happening to her.
And then, suddenly, I found myself wondering what it would be like to one day lose my own memories.
To forget my daughters.
To forget the life we’d built together.
To forget who I was.
So I started writing.
Not about dementia.
Not because I was afraid of getting older.
But for legacy.
I started writing letters to my daughters about me.
Who I am.
How I see the world.
How I met their dad.
The things I remember.
The things I’ve loved.
How much I love them.
I wanted to leave them something that was more than photographs and dates.
My voice.
My stories.
A little piece of the woman I was while they were growing up.
Something they could one day cuddle up in bed with and, in some small way, hear me again.
Letters From the Wild grew from those letters.
I don’t write them to future-proof anything.
I write them to share my life, and the lives of the people I love.
To leave something behind.
And for as long as I have the stories, I want to tell them.
Anyway.