I’m coming to the conclusion that as writers, we have little choice in what we write. I find that once a story is with me, it takes hold and the characters take on a life of their own. I feel compelled to write their story. If I don’t, then they will still niggle me anyway. This was how it was with my novel, THE THINGS WE DON’T SAY. Consciously, or not, I find I am drawn to the stories of women who somehow, did not fit in with the world in which they found themselves. With my three French novels, the inspiration was the life and famous abandoned apartment of the Parisian Belle Époque courtesan Marthe de Florian, with SECRET SHORES, it was Sunday Reed, a leading figure in the Australian art world, along with Joy Hester, an unsung Australian artist, and with THE THINGS WE DON’T SAY, I became drawn in by Vanessa Bell. Vanessa Bell was Virginia Woolf’s sister. Vanessa was an artist who painted most days of her life and a central figure in the Bloomsbury group, the famous group of artists, writers and intellectuals who fascinate me for their avant garde views, for the way…