At one point during her 14-year journalism career Natalie was the youngest editor of a photography magazine in the UK. Natalie started off writing for computer, photography and digital arts magazines after finishing her degree at Bournemouth University in 2003, here she also had the pleasure of interviewing and writing profile features on some of the world’s most influential and well-known photographers.
In 2010 Natalie went freelance and since then has started writing for more lifestyle-orientated titles and has interviewed and written profile features on A-listers such as Natalie Portman, Reese Witherspoon, Tom Hanks and Renee Zellweger. As well as being a magazine writer, subeditor and editor, Natalie has also written a photography book and has almost finished her first fiction novel.
As a Story Terrace writer, Natalie interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know her better: you can read an autobiographical story of her own below. Get in touch today to work with her!
I tend to go through my life thinking I’m as put together and as congenial as Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday but the truth of it is, I am far more like Bridget Jones than I’d probably care to admit. Big pants aside, I am probably the clumsiest person to have ever stumbled across the earth, and I consider it a small victory if me, the kids, the husband and the pets have all been fed, watered, washed and are still breathing at the end of every day.
Never have I felt more like the wine-swilling, Celine Dion-wailing, Christmas-knit wearing Queen of Southwark when I met my husband for the first time. I had just come out of the toilets at the publishing house we both worked at, eyes down, mind elsewhere, totally oblivious to the trail of loo paper stuck to my shoe, when I walked slap bang into my future Prince Charming. Not only did I knock the two glasses of water he was carrying out of his hands, but I also smashed into his teeth with my moon-like forehead. Concussion aside, the water had gone down the front of his trousers and the front of my top, which tragically was white. Needless to say our office wouldn’t have approved of a mid-afternoon wet t-shirt competition, but luckily for me, after my Mr. Darcy got over the initial shock of being effectively run over by a pocket-size Tasmanian devil, he was able to laugh about it and being the perfect gentleman loaned me his clean gym top. Which then gave me the perfect excuse to see him again, returning his shirt washed, and for the first (and last) time in my life, ironed. And the rest as they say is history!