A former journalist from Australia who graduated with majors in history and politics, I’m now a cross genre writer who is also a farmer, dog owner, gardener and embroiderer.

I didn’t plan to be a writer in those early days, I was far more a reader. But like most writers, I’ve always written – seeing the world through the medium of the word. It was inevitable that I become an independent writer simply because I love being at the cutting edge of something and together with many other ‘indies’, being at the forefront of the New Age of Writing and Publishing is like being a sea captain in the Age of Exploration. And I’ve been fortunate – winning silver medals and honourable mentions for my work and to have them ranking unbroken in the UK for the last ten wonderful months.

I try to make time for other things in life. I love wine, chocolate and cooking delectable cakes and biscuits. I mess about in my gardens, dirt under the fingernails and a plant catalogue alongside a cup of tea. I stitch (I love needle and silks) – to wind down. I walk (a lot) with the Jack Russells but more than anything, I like being on beaches, boats or the water – being by the sea is implicit for my writing to sing.


Prue Batten


Please feel free to ‘like’ my Facebook page and my Pinterest page and to comment on my blog, and welcome to my books and my writing life…

From the Blog


Tales along the riverbank…

When I was young and TV had just begun in my home town, I fell in love with a little show called Tales of the Riverbank.


 It wasn’t the animals so much, it was life on the river, a secret life. Little animals tucked away in the long grasses and shrubs of the riverbank and even better, animals that had adventures.


In that once-upon-a-time, Dad would sit and read Wind in the Willows to me and Ratty and Mole became my heroes – particularly Ratty because of his love of the water and boats. I was a child of the water then.

Still am…


And when my own children were young, we became devotees of the BBC TV production of Wind in the Willows.

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Head in sand…

Those who are my Facebook friends will know that I have become seriously tired of bad news. Of bad news online, on the TV, on radio and in the newspapers.

So much so, I choose not to engage with anything negative that is reported now.

Or anything negative, period.


Yes, it might be ‘head in sand’ type stuff, but I don’t care. And this was underlined when a family member’s LinkedIn account was hacked last night and she received a plethora of images of the beheading. Such trauma inflicted on an innocent woman on the far side of the world – and presumably for no reason other than gratification for the perpetrator.

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Had a bit of a pootle today.


Not far from the city.



Only about 40 minutes as the crow flies. But we took the dirt roads and the back roads and found beaches…

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Winter ills…

When the winter ills hit the house and one vacillates from being Super Nurse to not quite so Super Wife and back again, one’s attention span is pretty short.

So what to do?

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The sea and me…

Took myself off kayaking for an hour and a half this afternoon. Just me and the empty sea, a few pelicans, some cormorants, gulls and the very occasional whiffle of wind.

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