Victoria Capper's Blog

Writing a book is a completely personal and private occupation. It involves immense satisfaction and huge frustration. Satisfaction in getting on paper what it is inside you that compels you to write. Frustration in not being able to find the exact words for what it is you want to say.   But having done all that and produced a book, it then needs to get to a reader.   Writing the book is a solo occupation but once it has to go out into the world, that is another story.   My deepest and most

Most children love kindergarten.   When the subject comes up, most people talk with great enthusiasm about their time in kindergarten.  However, I am the odd one out, I didn't like kindergarten at all. I thought it was an extremely disappointing place to be. I didn’t understand it. I'm not completely sure why this was, but looking back after all these years I am starting to get an idea.    Now that I can see it through the eyes of an adult I see a different picture altogether. Unfortunately I

The most amazing thing has happened. The Australian ePublishing people who have been in charge of publishing my book suggested that I send it to be reviewed by influential people who compile catalogues of Indie books to distribute to libraries and booksellers.   The reviews were very different. Jill Allen from Foreword Clarion Review gave me a wonderful review with five stars. Patti Thorn from BlueInk Review didn’t like it much at all, she would only find a few good things to say about it. What

We know so little of the circumstances, hopes, dreams, fears about the early settlers in Outback Australia. Were they brave or foolhardy, reckless or heroic? All of the above?   Western Queensland was just being explored by Mitchell in 1845 and Kennedy in 1847 - and by 1858 settlers with family and stock were living there.   In that year the Spencer family came from the south along the Balonne River. They thought there was no one further west than they were. They had no way of knowing that

There is a saying -  ‘Richer than me you will never be, for I had a mother who read to me.’  I don’t know who said it first, but I do know it is true.   My mother read to us, my brother Peter and to me, every night before we went to bed. We loved it.  She sat on the couch and we sat close beside her. It introduced us to lots of stories.  Peter and I took turns in choosing our favourites and of course Mum sometimes introduced new ones.  Australian Stories, Blinky Bill  and The Magic Pudding and