Sometimes we may quietly write our frustrations into our stories without even realising it. Last summer, while I was writing The Ghosts of Moonlight Creek, our neighbours bought two puppies. They are now sensible grown-up dogs, but boy did we all go through hell while they were getting there? Yapping every time someone passed by the fence (there is a SCHOOL the other side of the fence), yapping at the slightest whiff of a cat (did every neighbourhood cat sit on the fence and laugh at them? Yes.) Yapping for no apparent reason. Yap yap yap.