Tag Archives: self-care

ANZAC DAY REFLECTION

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As Anzac Day approaches, we turn our thoughts to the history of war and to all those who served and sacrificed. We remember not only the fallen soldiers, but also the many who supported them, the nurses, families, and communities whose contributions were equally vital.

Anzac Day has always held deep significance within my own family, a connection carried through generations, shaped by my ancestors who served, and most personally through my father. As a young boy, he was part of the effort to help rebuild a school in France following WWI. That experience remained with him throughout his life, becoming a quiet but powerful thread in our family history, leaving a lasting impression on me and ultimately became part of the inspiration for my first Anzac children’s book Two Pennies which tells this story. alongside the documentary Never Forget Australia, which I wrote, directed, co-produced and distributed by Umbrella Entertainment.

Over time, I have written five books connecting to elements of Anzac Day.  Through these works, I found myself continually drawn to true stories that could be shared with younger audiences. Stories that help make sense of the past and preserve its human meaning.

What has remained most significant to me is the understanding that from the devastation of war can also emerge lasting friendships, shared purpose, and the rebuilding of communities. In particular, the relationship between France and Australia stands as a powerful example of this, shaped in part by Australian soldiers who remained after the WWI to assist in reconstruction efforts, especially around the Somme region.

These connections continue to speak to me today, not only as history, but as lived legacy. They remind us that remembrance is not only about loss, but also about resilience, humanity, and the ties that endure long after conflict has ended.

On Anzac Day, we honour all who served and all who supported them. We remember their courage, their sacrifice, and the enduring mark they left on families, nations, and generations still to come.

Magic Hides in Plain Sight

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I’m often asked where my creative ideas come from. I usually answer, the world is our greatest teacher. It’s constantly tapping us on the shoulder, whispering reminders to look up, look around, and actually see what’s happening in our lives. Learning doesn’t only happen in textbooks, webinars, or thirty-second clips served to us by an algorithm. It happens in the quiet, ordinary moments we rush past, the stranger who smiles at us in the supermarket aisle, the way the sky shifts colours on our morning walk, or even a sentence on the back of a bus that unexpectedly stirs something inside us. Life is always handing us tiny invitations to wake up and pay attention.

People often assume creativity arrives in dramatic flashes of inspiration, but for me, it’s the opposite. I notice the small things. I pay attention to stuff most people hurry past. The way a child drags their feet when they’re tired, the way a neighbour’s dog pauses as if it understands something I don’t, the way a single sunbeam lands on my desk in the afternoon, these little moments become sparks. They remind me that creativity isn’t about chasing something grand; it’s about being present enough to catch the quiet details life offers freely.

And the best lessons aren’t the ones we memorise; they’re the ones we live. They come from making meaning out of what’s unfolding right in front of us. Each day asks us to move through the world with a little more confidence, a little more steadiness, and a willingness to notice what we usually overlook. When we slow down enough to connect the dots, the simple with the complex, the joyful with the uncomfortable, we begin to understand how to navigate this extraordinary, messy, beautiful life we’re all living. Creativity, it turns out, isn’t something we find. It’s something we’re already surrounded by.

Every Messy Draft is Progress

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Writing your first book is hard. Not hard in a, you might not make it way, hard in a personal growth way. It stretches you. It teaches you. It invites you to show up, over and over again, even when it’s messy or unclear. That’s something to be proud of. There’s no point in looking back with regret and wishing you did it differently.

Your first draft won’t be perfect. Your tenth might not be either. But every version, every attempt, every quiet moment you spend trying to get the words right is part of the journey. Those messy drafts, the constant second-guessing, the moments where your confidence disappears completely? That’s all normal. It’s part of the process. Every author you admire has been exactly where you are. In fact, many of them have been there with every single book they write.

Every stumble, every deleted page, every, What am I even doing? moment is completely normal. In fact, it’s to be expected. That’s how writing works. That’s how writers are made. You’re not off track, you’re exactly where you should be.

Now’s the time to regroup. Pause. Take a breath. Look at how far you’ve already come. You’ve built something. Maybe it’s a little crooked. Maybe it needs a stronger foundation or a fresh coat of paint. That’s okay. Now you get to revise, refine, reimagine, and craft your book.

You have tools now. You’ve got feedback, insights, ideas. You’ve got instincts that are sharper than they were before. Trust them. Go back to your manuscript with a clear heart and look at it with fresh eyes. Read every line not with judgment, but with curiosity. Ask yourself, “How can this be even truer?” Not more polished. Not more literary. Just more you.

Ask yourself not, “Is this perfect?” but “Is this true to the heart of what I’m trying to say?”  Every line doesn’t need to sparkle, it just needs to work. You don’t need to impress anyone. Aim for honesty, clarity, and connection. You just need to finish what you started, in your own voice, in your own way.

Because this isn’t just about finishing a book. It’s about becoming a writer.

And becoming a writer means learning how to stay the course. How to bounce back. How to work through uncertainty. Writing a book is more than just telling a story. It’s about learning how to show up even when it’s hard. It means trusting that every draft matters, even the messy ones. It means falling down and getting back up, again and again. It means embracing the long game, and celebrating the small wins along the way. So if you’re doing that? Then let me be clear, you already are a writer—building something bold, one brave word at a time.