John Arthur Nichol hates writing about himself in the third person, so I won't do that.
I was born in a hospital named for a king, which now forms part of a hospital named for a prince, and I assume both will be subsumed one day in a hospital named for a robber baron, of whom Sydney's had plenty.
67 years later I've worked out what I want to do with my life, and it's something I've been doing all along. I write in verse. I'm not calling it poetry, but I write in verse. I can't help it. Verse happens all day long in my head as my thoughts mould to the flow of half-remembered melodies. English nags me with its rhythms; and if that's not bad enough, I'm compelled to rhyme.
So that's who I am and what I do. It's taken a lifetime to recognise it, accept it, and work out what to do about it.
I thought for a time that picture books must be the vessel to carry my stories written in verse, so Sascha Martin's Rocket-Ship, Time Machine and Super Ball, respectively, appeared with the beautiful illustrations of Manuela Pentangelo.
But the more I wrote ... the more I wrote. The more I wrote, the more I enjoyed it. The more I enjoyed it, the more I understood my needs and my intention.
I wasn't writing picture books.
I was writing stories that made me smile. I think they make other people smile as well. Not everyone. Just the people who get what I'm doing and who enjoy a smile.
They're the ones I'm writing for. And me, of course.
So, text is my medium, my stories are in verse that rhymes, my audience is older kids, grown-ups, family, but only people who like rhyming smiles. And the format is regular paperback.
Just the facts, Ma'am ...
1955: Born in Sydney.
65 years of stony sleep ...
2020: Retired. New website for my writing.
2022: Epiphany. New website MK II for my writing. Torn between two websites (feeling like a fool). Still writing in verse. Still smiling.
