I was born in Greensborough, Victoria. I was a fat little bubba.

My parents are Marion and Donald MacLeod.
They currently own a miniature pony farm near Ballarat.

I have two younger sisters, Heather and Helen.
They are both funny and smart, and they too live in the country.

I went to school in Melbourne, and later in the majestic Latrobe Valley in Gippsland. My family moved there when I was eleven.

My father worked at the pulp mill. The neutral sulphide semi-chemical pulp process was a new way of making paper.

Unfortunately, it made parts of The Latrobe Valley stink.

We lived in a smelly part.

On Saturdays I went sailing with Dad on the Hazelwood Pondage, a beautiful lake that is used to cool the turbines at the Hazelwood Power Plant.

I wasn’t very good at sailing, so I quickly learned to swim.
I still like swimming.

I was also the Traralgon C Grade Junior Table Tennis
Champion of 1972. One day someone stole our table, but
we kept playing anyway.

I was quite popular in primary school, because I liked
behaving like a clown and making kids laugh.

Although not all of the teachers were amused.

My year six teacher Mr Whelan was always punishing us.

Solitary confinement was the worst.

Despite this atmosphere of violence, I made lots of smelly
new friends.

I enjoyed the art classes, though my art teacher was angry
when I drew a picture of him.

He was even angrier when I drew a picture of his wife.

I looked forward to the weekly science classes ...

… and was always inventing useful machines, such as this
one for knocking off ladies’ hats.

I also enjoyed reading. I took books everywhere I went ...

… well, almost everywhere.

Fond of magic, I taught myself tricks to amuse my friends.

There was my amazing flying piglet act - though most
people could see how it was done.

But some of my tricks were really quite impressive.

I was a happy twelve-year-old, until I went to a terrible high
school in Morwell.

Not only were the teachers questionable …

… but the other kids didn’t like me being a clown and I
got into fights.

One day the teachers thought I didn’t look well.

They sent me home. I had caught pneumonia, which
meant I couldn’t go to school. Hooray!

Though ill, I wrote stories and poems. Soon I had so many, I
decided to make a book. I was fourteen at the time.

I sent my work to a tiny publisher in Melbourne.
(I got their address out of a book in the library.)

They decided to publish it. I worked with a wonderfully
wise editor called Michael Dugan.

Two years later my book was published. I was sixteen and
very proud. So was my dog, Hobart.

Many people bought my first book.

By now I was going to a very good school, and learning
useful things that would help me in later life, such as tying small pieces of string to live birds

When I said I wanted to be a professional writer, I could
sense that the careers advisor was concerned.

My parents were afraid that I might end up like many
other professional writers.

But Michael Dugan reassured them that some people
could make a living out of it.

I wrote more books and sent them to Penguin. They told
me they liked funny books, but they would also publish
mine.

I did a dramatic writing course at The Victorian College of
Arts. I even acted in some of the plays, which was
enjoyable.

I made some lasting, valued friends.

Then I wrote a book called Sister Madge’s Book of Nuns.

People would read out the silly verses to one another,
shrieking with laughter.

… and rent a luxurious house.

Sister Madge’s Book of Nuns won many honours,
including the strange thing in a vase award.

Owing to this book, and some plays I wrote, I attracted
the attention of a famous TV producer.

I became the head writer on a national Australian TV
series called The Comedy Company.
We were a cheerful lot.

It was an instant hit. All over Australia, people were acting
out our hilarious comedy sketches.

Soon I forgot about writing books altogether, lured away
by the fast life of TV ...

… and the many temptations it offered.

In my forties, I stopped working full-time in television to
return to writing books.

I now live a happy life in sensible, quiet St Kilda ...

… where I write books and a bit of TV for kids and young
adults everywhere ...

… but not these ones. Horrible, aren’t they?