Books, blogs and articles
Small Sparks of Life
In 2000 Small Sparks of Life, was published, descibing my journey to motherhood through miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy.
“Two miscarriages found Lysanne caught in a no-woman's land where she felt neither the career woman, nor the mother-to-be. At first she was determined to solve her own problems until finally she found and accepted help from a local miscarriage support group.
No two women experience miscarriage in the same way but "Small Sparks of Life" faces the same problem in a sympathetic way, not without humility and humour. It will help others to find the courage to face their sadness, and to go on and try again, to reach the climactic joy of birth, which Lysanne so beautifully describes.”
Reviews
Laugh, cry, relate... What a wonderful book
Thank you Lysanne. When I went through my ectopic pregnancy I was so down and confused. I bought this book and what a relief for someone to put words into what I was feeling. It help me understand the roller coaster of emotions I was going through. And my favourite from this book is a poem she wrote... I won't spoil it because you will have to buy the book. But it was a simple poem that truly expressed what i was feeling ... That I have to put a brave face and yet deep inside I'm hurting so much. And all I need is for someone to hold my hand and say I care. Laugh and cry and relate to this book... And also find joy.
Ashley McPartlin - It definitely helped to get me to a better place and I really hope it can help others ...
This book helped me through a difficult time. It made me realise you are not alone and the feelings you are experiencing are completely normal and natural. It definitely helped to get me to a better place and I really hope it can help others get there too.
Keesha - Small sparks of life, restarted my life.
Was looking for something to help along the process of a miscarriage, this book made me feel I wasn't alone and honestly the start of my heeling process!
I am sad to say that thirty years on, the pain of pregnancy loss remains a hidden grief. There is the unacknowledged sense of despair, jealousy, loneliness and trying to mourn someone who never fully came into being. Not to forget the hopeful fear that accompanies any future pregnancy.
The publisher still sells the book on the Kindle format, through hasn’t paid out any royalties for many years.
And so I am more than happy to allow anyone who needs it to download a free copy here.
Musings on life
I wrote my first short story at the age of five. I wrote about a little red apple that felt less loved than all the other red apples in the basket. In the narrative, I rescue it by eating it up. You might say I was already finding creative narratives to find a voice for what was going on in my inner world.
As a writer and psychotherapist, I have continued that habit. I find joy in the solitary process of digesting a topic and bringing forth something useful. But I also enjoy the challenge of being invited into the inner worlds of my clients, as a guest and a guide, and helping them to bring forth what is useful to them. And as we are all cut from the same human cloth, many times our journeys cross over and bring new insights and resonance.
I hope you find inspiration in my Healthy Neurotics offerings, and developing the inner gaze that brings forth wisdom from the inner to the outer plane, and the many planes beyond. Go straight there - On the whimsical nature of memory, or start reading below.
The city has changed, of course. Glassy high-rise towers have sprung up along the edges of the river, sitting comfortably beside the thousand-year-old Tower of London. Layers of history jostling together, while beneath them the same river keeps flowing, as it has since long before Roman Britain.
And as I watch the old and the new merge together, it occurs to me that memory is rather like that.
We tend to imagine our memories neatly stored away somewhere, each in its own little drawer, waiting to be taken out occasionally and inspected. But memories aren't like that at all. They are far more whimsical creatures. And every time we take one out, we subtly change it.
We look at it through the lens of who we are now, with everything that has happened since. The eight-year-old remembers one thing. The 21-year-old adds another layer. The 61-year-old looks back at both of them and sees something neither could possibly have understood at the time.
On the whimsical nature of memory
12 september 2026
On a recent trip to London, I find myself taking a familiar journey down the Thames, reacquainting myself with the London I know from my past.