Seven Things I’d like my readers to know about me Author Eliza Henry - Jones

1.  I was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 31, when I was halfway through writing Salt & Skin and working on my PhD. Understanding why I was often extremely anxious, and seemed to tick along at a different rhythm to everyone around me, was a revelation. I’m always happy to chat about ADHD diagnosis, or what it means to be an author with ADHD.

2.  I once inexplicably fractured my ankle walking in very sensible shoes on a flat, manicured lawn. It took me about a month to admit it was sore and get an x-ray.

3.  I am obsessed with flowers and run a micro flower farm in the Yarra Valley with my cousin. Flower farming is the opposite of writing novels in a lot of ways – it’s physical, interpersonal, very sequential, and requires an engagement with the land and with the seasons. It’s also unexpectedly similar, in that it’s frustrating, daunting, and demands a sort of intrinsic optimism. Flowers themselves, when they’re grown seasonally, are also incredibly storied things – speaking of the sun, the rain, the soil and the creatures and other plants around them.

4.  I read everything I can get my hands on – crime, fantasy, horror, experimental, literary, sci-fi, poetry, essays, young adult, romance, memoir and classics.

5.  I am a keen (but not terribly good) hors rider. I first sat on a pony when I was a toddler, and that was it. I currently have four– including a sassy Shetland pony (who escapes her paddock and treats the barn like a self-service buffet). Riding my horses is the only time my ADHD brain feels quiet. I can see their paddock from my office window, which is far too tempting on sunny days when I don’t really feel like staring at my laptop. 

6.  I have qualifications in psychology, as well as grief, loss and trauma counselling. I spent a few years working with extremely vulnerable families in the drug rehabilitation sector. While my studies have directly informed my writing, I’ve always been extremely mindful of never touching the stories of the people I’ve worked with. However, this sort of work does change you, and so irrevocably changes your writing. You begin to perceive the complexity and nuance of things like trauma and addiction in a way you couldn’t before. I think doing this work primes you to see people’s resilience, and their brilliance – even when no one else does.

7.  Teaching myself how to knit involved a lot of swearing, many hours of YouTube videos, and an unspeakable amount of tangled yarn. I now spend my time getting teased a lot for knitting at parties, concerts and horse events.