Captivated by stories from a young age, Nicolette spent endless hours telling tales to her patient parents until finding a better outlet for her creativity. Inevitably, Nicolette ended up working in Australia's publishing industry ... until she didn't. She then worked in the UK publishing industry ... until she didn't. Continuing to spin stories via her blog and extra curricular writing activities, Nicolette is hoping to come out of the COVID-19 sh*t storm with only a rough case of dry hands.
Building a new life in a new city can throw challenges at you both big and small. Most challenges are to be expected; learning a new public transport system, setting up a bank account, finding the local pub, getting a job, making friends. Some are not; Brexit, realising your old winter clothes are a laughing stock when compared to ACTUAL winter clothes, Brexit, knowing your phone calls home will always mean one side of the conversation is just waking up while the other is on its way to being drunk and never the two wavelengths shall meet, Brexit. What I hadn’t planned on were challenges that would fundamentally change who I was. And in that respect, there is one challenge needs addressing, and has needed addressing for some time. For the eagle-eyed amongst you, you will have noticed a certain someone who has crept into my Twitter feed and onto my ‘ currently reading ’ page. And for those of you who have spotted this certain someone, and also know me well, will surely be wonder