As Anzac Day approaches, we turn our thoughts to the history of war and to all those who served and sacrificed. We remember not only the fallen soldiers, but also the many who supported them, the nurses, families, and communities whose contributions were equally vital.

Anzac Day has always held deep significance within my own family, a connection carried through generations, shaped by my ancestors who served, and most personally through my father. As a young boy, he was part of the effort to help rebuild a school in France following WWI. That experience remained with him throughout his life, becoming a quiet but powerful thread in our family history, leaving a lasting impression on me and ultimately became part of the inspiration for my first Anzac children’s book Two Pennies which tells this story. alongside the documentary Never Forget Australia, which I wrote, directed, co-produced and distributed by Umbrella Entertainment. 

Over time, I have written five books connecting to elements of Anzac Day.  Through these works, I found myself continually drawn to true stories that could be shared with younger audiences. Stories that help make sense of the past and preserve its human meaning.

What has remained most significant to me is the understanding that from the devastation of war can also emerge lasting friendships, shared purpose, and the rebuilding of communities. In particular, the relationship between France and Australia stands as a powerful example of this, shaped in part by Australian soldiers who remained after the WWI to assist in reconstruction efforts, especially around the Somme region.

These connections continue to speak to me today, not only as history, but as lived legacy. They remind us that remembrance is not only about loss, but also about resilience, humanity, and the ties that endure long after conflict has ended.

On Anzac Day, we honour all who served and all who supported them. We remember their courage, their sacrifice, and the enduring mark they left on families, nations, and generations still to come.

I’m so sorry — in my earlier invitation, I gave you the wrong address for the Stillness exhibition. Here’s the correct (and very beautiful) location where I’d love to welcome you:
Studio on Brunswick
Shop 2 California Lane, off 22 McLachlan Street, New Farm

Yes, it’s a different street — but the same promise of stillness, soul, and connection.

The exhibition opens at 5:30pm on Saturday 12 July, and I’d be absolutely delighted to see you there.

Stillness is a collection of mixed media artworks and poetry created during a time of deep personal transformation. Each piece is an invitation to pause, breathe, and reconnect — with yourself, with beauty, with quiet truth.

Come for the art, stay for some bubbles and the company. Let’s share a moment of presence together.

Warmly,
Vicki Bennett

Writing your first book is hard. Not hard in a you might not make it way, hard in a personal growth way. It stretches you. It teaches you. It invites you to show up, over and over again, even when it’s messy or unclear. That’s something to be proud of. There’s no point in looking back with regret and wishing you did it differently.

Your first draft won’t be perfect. Your tenth might not be either. But every version, every attempt, every quiet moment you spend trying to get the words right is part of the journey. Those messy drafts, the constant second-guessing, the moments where your confidence disappears completely? That’s all normal. It’s part of the process. Every author you admire has been exactly where you are. In fact, many of them have been there with every single book they write.

Every stumble, every deleted page, every, What am I even doing? moment is completely normal. In fact, it’s to be expected. That’s how writing works. That’s how writers are made. You’re not off track, you’re exactly where you should be.

Now’s the time to regroup. Pause. Take a breath. Look at how far you’ve already come. You’ve built something. Maybe it’s a little crooked. Maybe it needs a stronger foundation or a fresh coat of paint. That’s okay. Now you get to revise, refine, reimagine, and craft your book.

You have tools now. You’ve got feedback, insights, ideas. You’ve got instincts that are sharper than they were before. Trust them. Go back to your manuscript with a clear heart and look at it with fresh eyes. Read every line not with judgment, but with curiosity. Ask yourself, “How can this be even truer?” Not more polished. Not more literary. Just more you. 

Ask yourself not, “Is this perfect?” but “Is this true to the heart of what I’m trying to say?”  Every line doesn’t need to sparkle, it just needs to work. You don’t need to impress anyone. Aim for honesty, clarity, and connection. You just need to finish what you started, in your own voice, in your own way.

Because this isn’t just about finishing a book. It’s about becoming a writer.

And becoming a writer means learning how to stay the course. How to bounce back. How to work through uncertainty. Writing a book is more than just telling a story. It’s about learning how to show up even when it’s hard. It means trusting that every draft matters, even the messy ones. It means falling down and getting back up, again and again. It means embracing the long game, and celebrating the small wins along the way. So if you’re doing that? Then let me be clear, you already are a writer—building something bold, one brave word at a time.

I’ve been conducting a series of Writer’s Workshops, focusing on the art of crafting compelling narratives. I help writers construct their words and meaning into easy-to-read, elegant words and sentences. Many writers believe their work is complete after three or four drafts, but true refinement often begins at this stage. Diligent crafting is essential to elevating a manuscript to its highest potential.

Recently, I collaborated with my publishing editor on my latest book, The Letters. Over the past decade, this project has undergone numerous rewrites, and restructurings, including twenty edits. Even after this extensive process, my editor identified areas for improvement.

Effective crafting demands time, attention, and a clear sense of purpose. It involves consistently refining voice, rhythm, tone, and meticulously reviewing each line. It also involves the willingness to remove unnecessary elements, even if it means cutting cherished words or sentences.

By dedicating ourselves to this process, we demonstrate respect for our reader and for ourselves as writers. Through conscious cultivation of insight and technique, we transform our writing into art. When we craft the written word, we consciously improve our insight and skill, developing our technique as writers, through repetition and devotion. 

We engage in writing because it holds profound significance, and ultimately, we craft our writing because it matters. The Letters will be in bookstores in April 2025. 

Overview:

‘As a child, I was captivated by my grandfather’s stories. A World War 1 veteran, he told me stories about France and the people he meet during the Great War. I have been under the spell of this period ever since. My grandfather’s account of the enduring bonds between Australia and the France left an indelible mark on my imagination, inspiring a lifelong passion for this historical period. Long after my grandfather died,  I discovered letters sent to him from France, revealing long-held secrets. These letters inspired The Letters, a narrative exploring themes of hope, courage, and compassion. This story bridges time and culture, posing the compelling question: If you could go back in time, what would you change?

Vicki Bennett

Rather than the need to be fully fixed, can we just try to be fully here? Which is the authentic antidote for healing and wellness. Healing means being OK with ourselves wherever and whatever we are, in each moment. Not blaming, shaming or guilting ourselves. 

Healing doesn’t mean the absence of pain or discomfort or difficulty or moments of confusion or doubt. Or ignoring our feelings or lying about them to ourselves, or slathering them in some kind of spiritual mumbo jumbo weirdness. It does not mean forgetting, not being triggered, or all is perfectly comfortable all the time. Trying to deny the discomfort of dark and murky spots in life will get us a one-way ticket to misery, confusion, and constant exhaustion.

Welcome every emotion as an old friend. Creativity happens in the moment of acceptance. Not in shame or blame. Pure kindness to self, creates unlimited creativity.It means being OK with yourself wherever and whatever you are in each moment. Not needing to change it, willing to face it, and feel it. Healing does not mean instant forgiveness, or clarity or even feeling better. It is the willingness to wade through the mud, no expectations, the only goal being … presence to it all. Not turning our back on any part of ourselves … that is our healing.