For one thing, I couldn't drive. Even with a hectic household of newborns and physically challenged octogenarians (weird times), I couldn't just up and vanish like a fart in the wind without someone noticing. Not only noticing, demanding a detailed itinerary. And had I received the, decidedly auspicious, news that I was in fact not the eldest daughter of the Jefferies, ohno, I was queen of the pixies/faeries/magic hippos, my father would have reminded me of things like Matric, exams and ‘making a living’. That I was not yet an adult was pretty bloody clear, and made clearer anytime it was queried whose house, sorry not house, roof it was. News flash - not mine. Any revelation of paranormal origins would not have seen me suddenly immune to said Matric exams. I would still have had to work through my algebra, my french verb conjugations and re-read Antony and Cleopatra. I would still have had to deal with my pre-pubescent brother who was a total shit who delighted in kicking in shins. I would have still had to share a room with my younger sister who left overflowing ashtrays and dirty coffee mugs all over the stereo (under posters of Jim Morrison). I would still have had to help make dinner, do the vacuuming and fight for my rightful place to a hot shower. Because try as a I might, I would have still been sixteen years old. Short of running away from home, you are stuck there. Can't drive, can't vote, no money, no finished school, just stuck there.
With this cheery thought in mind, I started to write the Caitlin books. Sure she’s got some paranormal issues, but it cannot trump the fact that she’s sixteen years old, stuck living at her aunt’s, having to do the school thing. Because she's sixteen years old. And that’s how life rolls.
The Liberty Series Omnibus is now available. You can download it here.