Three writers, two murders. The idea freaked me out.

I’ve just come back from a writers’ retreat where I’ve been working on my first cosy crime novel.

I’m writing it with two friends, Carolyn Tate & Kath Walters from my writers’ group.

‘Oh my God, how does that work?’ is usually the first thing people ask.

Fair enough. The idea freaked me out at first, too.

About 18 months ago, we outlined the plot. Then we took turns writing a thousand words each and passing them on to the next person.

Of course, we don’t always stick to the plot. One of us went off-piste and introduced a second murder, which upped the stakes. Crazy but fun.

We spend one Friday a month writing together and it’s one of my favourite days of the month.

A whole day to write feels like such a luxury, I revel in it.

We read scenes aloud and have ‘robust discussions’ (code for fierce arguments) about what our characters would do or say next.

Sometimes we’re still arguing on Friday afternoon about a scene we thought we’d finish before lunch. Sometimes we can barely get through a scene because we’re laughing at our own jokes. Again.

I thought getting three writers to sound like one would be our biggest problem.

We sent the first draft to a handful of early readers with a few questions. The one I was most nervous about was ‘Did you guess the murderer?’

Nobody did. Phew, happy dance.

The early readers called it a fun romp and said it sounded as though one person had written it. They also spotted plot holes all three of us had missed.

I think the first qualification for writing together is a thick skin. You also have to hear someone out when you’re still rather fond of your own idea. I’m still working on that.

I was driving to a client engagement in Melbourne one bright, sunny morning. My brain was ticking over how to describe this magic feeling of writing together. Of co-creating.

Melbourne weather does this thing where it can turn on you in an instant. One minute sunshine, the next storm clouds. I heard the rumble of thunder and then a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. My hair practically stood on end.

And I thought, that’s it.

That’s what it feels like when we finally crack a scene.

A lightning strike of unbridled delight.