Please, call me Dotti.
It’s my earliest nickname and favourite of all the names I go by. It’s how I sign my blog posts, and, at times, my wardrobe inspiration. It’s an echo back to the days when the little girl in me discovered the wonder of books.
As the daughter of post-war immigrants, I have always been wrapped in a deep longing for the stories of those displaced and replanted in a new homeland. Australia has welcomed new settlers for centuries. Some came by choice, others … were not so willing.
All fashioned identities to match the upside-down landing place they came to call home. In doing so, many left a piece of themselves behind.
But nothing is ever lost.
We thread our life history with what we hold onto. The memories, the tokens and values. And the new discoveries which transform our destiny.
Some cared to entrust this in a record of letters and journals. They traced the fingerprint of God as He laid out second chances and love in all its finery. And left it for us to peek into.
This is where you’ll find me. Sifting through history. Reading through its pages.
That’s where my heart beats. In the stories of love and redemption set against the fierce backdrop of Australia in her infancy.
And as settings go, a romance writer’s dream.