The Sydney Morning Herald
· collected 2026-10-10 · by Monica McInerney
Author Monica McInerney recounts how eavesdropping on private conversations from the rooftop of her childhood home in Clare, South Australia, fueled her curiosity and inspired her writing career. She mentions a specific instance at an Italian bistro in Melbourne where she overheard a couple grieving the loss of their child, an experience that deeply affected her. McInerney connects this habit to her novel-writing process, emphasizing how such incidents serve as seeds for fictional stories exploring emotional reactions to significant events.
Written locally by qwen2.5:14b on 2026-10-10,
using this article's own text rather than the other coverage of the
same event (that is the story summary below).
Story summary
Monica McInerney, an Australian author, recalls her childhood in Clare, South Australia, where she would climb onto the roof of her family home, the railway station master’s residence, to eavesdrop on private conversations. The rooftop provided a quiet place for reading and listening to discussions among family members and neighbors. McInerney admits that this activity was crucial training for her career as an author, as it honed her skills in observing human interactions closely. A local artist, Paul Leditschke, created a mosaic sculpture called "Girl on a Roof" near her childhood home, featuring a young girl reading atop a roof, symbolizing McInerney herself at age 10.
Written for “Monica McInerney Secret Dilemma” on 2026-10-10,
grounded in this article and the 0 other(s) covering the same event.
More than two metres high, it depicts a young girl on a rooftop, engrossed in a book, leaning against a chimney made of books.
asserted
it → depict → books
That young girl is a representation of me, aged 10.
asserted
girl → age → me
Throughout my childhood, I spent hours sitting and reading on the real roof of my family house, the railway station master’s residence, far from the noise and bustle of my family below.
asserted
I → spend → family
It was not only the perfect place to sit reading, it became the ideal eavesdropping position.
asserted
it → sit → ?
In my early teens, I learnt that if I clambered on to the roof, crept silently across the corrugated iron – a feat in itself – and got the timing right, I’d be above the back verandah, where most of my family’s private discussions took place.
asserted
most → learn → place
Below me, I heard my parents talk about their seven children, myself included.
asserted
myself → hear → children
I heard my sisters talk about friends and relationships.
asserted
sisters → hear → friends
My brothers talked sport and local news.
asserted
brothers → talk → sport
When neighbours visited for chats with my parents, I was four metres above, listening.
This isn’t a confession.
asserted
This → visit → parents
I now know it was excellent training to be the author I am today.
asserted
I → know → ?
Writers are always searching for the spark of an idea, a fragment of an intriguing story, a detail that will fire the imagination.
asserted
that → search → imagination
Sometimes a story springs from our own lives and experiences.
asserted
story → spring → lives
Sometimes we have to go looking – or listening – for them.
asserted
we → have → them
In my novels, I create fictional families, then set off what I call an “emotional explosion” in their midst.
asserted
I → create → midst
I’m intrigued by how different people react to a seismic event: the conflict, comedy, drama, mishaps and misunderstandings that follow.
asserted
that → intrigue → event
The woman cried.
asserted
woman → cry → ?
The man cried.
asserted
man → cry → ?
They left before they had finished their main course.
asserted
they → leave → course
Several years later, those 10 minutes of overheard conversation became the seed for my novel.
asserted
minutes → overhear → novel
I trace that back to my childhood on the rooftop, overhearing whispered secrets, local gossip.
asserted
I → trace → secrets
The people down below were sometimes amused, or shocked, angered or disbelieving.
asserted
people → amuse → ?
I loved it when someone asked, “Then what happened?”
asserted
what → love → it
It’s the question that fuels all my novels now: then what happened?
asserted
what → ’ → novels
My family home was sold years ago.
asserted
home → sell → ?
Sometimes what I overhear affects me greatly.
asserted
overhear → overhear → me
One evening in Melbourne, my husband and I booked a table at an Italian bistro.
asserted
husband → book → bistro
We were seated beside a couple in their late 30s.
asserted
We → seat → 30s
The acoustics were such that we could hear most of their conversation.
uncertain
we → hear → conversation
A world of grief and pain, I soon realised.
asserted
I → realise → grief
Their only child had died.
asserted
child → die → ?
This was their first night out since it had happened.
asserted
it → happen → ?
They were trying – and failing – to find words to say to one another.
asserted
They → try → one
The woman cried.
asserted
woman → cry → ?
The man cried.
asserted
man → cry → ?
They left before they had finished their main course.
asserted
they → leave → course
Their deep grief stayed with me.
asserted
grief → stay → me
Several years later, those 10 minutes of overheard conversation became the seed for my novel The House of Memories, the story of a couple finding their way back from a devastating incident.
asserted
minutes → overhear → incident
Most writers, myself included, try not to use family or friends’ stories.
asserted
myself → include → stories
Getting inspiration from strangers can feel different.
asserted
Getting → get → strangers
An exchange overheard on a bus, train or tram might spark an entire novel.
uncertain
exchange → overhear → novel
…and 22 more, not listed.
The Aporia
