I am a novelist and poet, born in Minnesota. I remember snow, and I write about it. I spent the first twenty-five years of my life moving around the United States, discovering arid landscapes of red rock, humid backyards with grass and trees growing out of soft clay, enormous and climbable mountains and the fresh water that springs from them, and I write about it all.
In Adelaide, in 1999, I decided to stop moving, to set down roots for myself and my future family, where there are eucalyptus trees and art, which I write about.
I worked hard for my PhD and from it came a novel about displacement and belonging, a common theme in my work. I wrote a book of poetry during my candidature about birth and death (other common themes) because during my time at the University of Adelaide I had experienced birth and I had experienced death. During that time I also married a man, and I write about him, and we have three children, and I write about them, too. I also write about our dog Tom.
I’ve ridden my bike all over Australia and I love Australia – its spare country, its emotional cities, its easy gait – and I write about it, about all of it, Australian earth, Australian pavement, the Australian Southern sky and bicycles. I’ve travelled all over the world and love to write about that. I write about illness, a lot, because I have Meniere’s disease and it’s interesting, to say the least. I write about the air when I’m falling through it; I used to be a skydiver.
I’ve published poems, lyric essays and literary reviews in journals like Meanjin and Southerly, Cordite and Westerly, Griffith Review, Island and TEXT. Working as an editor makes me giddy, so I’ve done that a few times, probably wouldn’t mind doing it again someday.
If I had to eat one type of food every day for the rest of my life I would choose soup. If I had to be cliché, I’d be a happy ending.