Debra Oswald’s father taught her to be inquisitive about the world. As an adult she discovered that curiosity can help us endure whatever is happening
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hen I was 11 years old and expressed an interest in writing plays, my father was on it – booking theatre tickets, driving me to Parramatta Library to borrow scripts and giving me a portable typewriter for my 12th birthday. Soon after, when my teenaged sister mumbled an interest in genetics, we all found ourselves in a university lecture hall for a public talk on the subject.
My dad’s philosophy was “always follow your curious nose” and along the way, he was inspired to conduct his own research into theatre or genetics or whatever happened to be fascinating to us kids. Even if it was mostly through books, Mind Alive encyclopedias, and vicariously through his children, he was a stickybeak about the world.
As an adult, I’ve continued this inquisitive family tradition. Arguably, it’s how I’ve made a living. One of the joys of a writing career is the excuse to be nosy. I’ve ridden around on police rescue trucks, done a Tafe certificate in asbestos removal, interrogated peach farmers, obstetricians and coroners.






