Zoë Scholtz

I learned to love books before I could even read. Mom is an avid reader. Some of my most precious childhood memories are of her taking my sister and I to the public library on a regular basis. Located in the centre of town, parking was usually hard to find and we would walk through a noisy amalgamation of street vendors selling their wares, parking attendants clamoring for attention, and hordes of people busily going about their day to day activities, before reaching the imposing entrance of the library building.  Once inside the glass doors, it was quiet and tranquil. An environment far removed from the hubbub outside. Although mom would caution us to keep our voices down, we needed little reminding - the atmosphere commanded quiet, prompting us to speak in hushed tones. Mom would go off to hunt for her preferred selection of reading, leaving my sister and I to each carefully choose our quota of four books. We would peruse the seemingly endless supply of colourful volumes stac...

The Waterhole  I was sitting cross-legged on a small patch of pokey dry grass. In front of me was a watering hole, to my right a lone giraffe methodically chewed at the green shoots of a tree. To my left was what I imagined inspired the game lodge's name: a vast expanse of the wide-open African bushveld, the golden thatch grass swayed gently in the light breeze and Akasia trees dotted the landscape. Hubby and I were taking a much needed holiday at Safari Plains, part of the greater Mabula reserve, just outside Bela-Bela. I should be feeling calm and relaxed. Except, I wasn't... I was anxious or maybe scared was a better word. I couldn’t settle to anything, and my stomach persisted in twisting in knots. With a sigh, I set aside the novel I'd been trying to read. I had reread the same paragraph about four times but had absolutely no idea what I'd read.  The reason for my distress was that the moment I had been dreading since February 2020, had finally arri...

'Never judge a book by its cover...' (English idiom), I can't recall how many times I've heard this. Except...  I   do. There I said it, I absolutely judge a book by its cover, in particular when its   my  book!  The next phase of my writing adventure started out well enough, I emailed the final draft of my manuscript off to the publishing team, attended the introductory meeting, and then thought (hoped?) I could sit back and wait for the finished product to arrive. Ha! How wrong I was, I came to realise that my hard work had only just started! The writing aspect,  pffft  that was a walk in the park compared to this next phase. Strike one  I have always maintained that sometimes it's better to not know what I am getting myself into, and rather just take whatever process I am in as it comes. This was a prime example of such a situation, and only served to reinforce my belief. I started to appreciate the requirement for active involvement when I rec...