I dreamed of disaster...

Yesterday was the six-month anniversary of the deadly 6.3 Christchurch earthquake which killed 181 people and destroyed New Zealand's most beautiful city. I think that's why I had the dream I had last night, and it was just so vivid I have to share it.

It began with me, my parents, brother, sister and partner in a little suburban house in Christchurch. We stood in the dining room and heard a rumble in the distance. We all stood stock still - having experienced our fair share of earthquakes, we knew what was coming (a major fault line runs straight through Wellington and we were supposed to be the ones that got "the big one" - I wrote a poem about it). The house started to shake and I held onto the doorway next to my partner, while the rest of my family ran for cover. We held on for dear life and it seemed to go on forever. Even when we thought it had stopped, it came back again.

Suddenly I was back in Wellington walking through the centre of the city and another earthquake struck. This time I was on my own and I didn't know where to go because there were glass shop windows on my right, cars on my left and old masonry above me. From what we saw of the Christchurch earthquake, you are not safe anywhere in a big one. So I was running around in all directions - in circles really, and then gave up and just stopped in the middle of the footpath and hoped for the best.

Then I was in the middle of Auckland city and the Wellington earthquake seemed to continue there. It stopped briefly and I looked up to see the Sky Tower (the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere) leaning over like a tree in the wind. There were people all around me who hadn't noticed and I pointed, saying: "Do you see that? It's going to come down." Everyone looked then, and it leaned further over and suddenly snapped in half without making a sound.

The Sky Tower has a point at the top, and the half that snapped off went point first and drove itself into the sand on a beach nearby. We all knew there would be people in there and we also knew there was no chance they could have survived, but a whole crowd rushed over to help. There was no noise. No one was crying out for help. But we still went anyway, but we never got close. No matter how fast we were all running, no one could get there - we all stayed in the same place.

Then I found myself in a building that had been set up as a makeshift hospital and I volunteered to help. People were coming through the door on stretchers covered in blood and moaning in pain.

So that's my dream... FREAKY RIGHT?!

Do you read books for inspiration for your own novel?

I often wonder about this. I've heard that some authors strictly do not read other people's books while they're working on their own for fear of their work being influenced.

But I for one cannot bear the thought of not reading, and I find that my writing sucks when I'm not reading and if I'm reading something I'm really enjoying, my writing gets awesome - but I've still got my own style, I'm not copying theirs (which is possibly a reason why some authors don't do it?)

But what to do when you find a book that carries the same themes as your own novel? Once you get over the initial panicked feeling that someone else has beaten you to it and published your novel (which should disappear after you've read past the first two sentences on the back cover), do you read it?

I picked up Love in the Years of Lunacy by Mandy Sayer the other day because I liked the cover and, when I flipped it over, found that it is set in the midst of World War Two in Australia, it's a love story that gets tested by the war and involves jazz music in smoky bars.

My story is set in Wellington, New Zealand during World War Two (Which had a lot of similarities to Australia during the war), my main character plays the piano in smoky jazz bars and is shipped off to fight in the war, which tests the love story. The edge mine has over hers is that mine involves time travel and five main characters.

It sounds like a great book, but should I read it?

New project idea: Advice needed!

Hello everyone, hope you all had a great weekend. I for one feel like I haven't sat down in days - kids are so exhausting!

So I need some advice. I have this idea that I don't know what to do with.

When I was a baby, my mum joined Plunket (for those non-New Zealanders, Plunket is a support service for mothers). One of the things Plunket did back then was get groups of mothers together who had babies born around the same time and they got together for coffee, playdates etc. Most mother's groups dissolve after a few years once life gets busy and more babies are born, but in my case, our mother's group continued. The oldest of the 23 kids are turning 23 years old this year and we're still going strong. Instead of coffee and playdates, however, the parents do all sorts of things together like go on crazy holidays and cycle around the country.

So I want to write a book about it. There's already been a book written about Plunket to celebrate 100 years, so I think my idea has a chance.

We all get together at least three times a year for significant birthdays like 21st's and 50th's, and I had the idea to write a book after going to one of the 21st's a couple of weeks ago - this one was my brother's best friend and I've always seen him as my second little brother.

The mother's in the group are mums to all of us. If one of us gets in trouble and our mother isn't there to help us, there will always be one of them there. For example, about a year ago, my partner and I went on an organised two-day cycling trip called Big Coast and a couple of the mothers group parents went as well (as their own group, not with us). On the first day before lunch, I went down a steep gravel road too fast and fell off my bike, and was rewarded with cuts and grazes on my knees, elbow and face. I got up and kept going, with an embarrassing plaster (band aid) on my chin and I arrived at the lunch spot a little worse for wear. The mother's group mums saw me getting patched up by the first aid guys and came over straight away to give me "mummy hugs" and make sure I was okay.

As for the friendships between the kids, we all have our best friends in the group and whenever we see each other at the many, many parties, there's hugs all round and instant, non-awkward conversation. They're all like ready-made friends who will never, ever not be friends.

Although some people have left over the years, the core of the group remains strong. I think the most special thing about us is that out of 23 kids, not one of us has got pregnant, died, been arrested or disowned their family. In a time when so many families are breaking up, or not even marrying in the first place, our story is a breath of fresh air - reminding people of the importance of family.

I think it's a story that needs to be told, but where to begin? Thoughts?