I write books you can test, not just trust.

I came to astrology and pendulum work the unglamorous way: slowly, skeptically, and mostly at my own kitchen table.

For a long time I didn't believe any of it, and I didn't disbelieve it either — I just hadn't tested it. That's the part nobody tells you: you can go years assuming something is either nonsense or magic without ever once writing a reading down and checking it later. So I started keeping a small notebook for exactly that. Not affirmations. Readings and predictions, dated, with a line underneath for what actually happened. Some weeks the notebook made me feel a little foolish. Other weeks it didn't.

That notebook is the reason I write the way I do now. I'm not interested in telling you what to believe. I'm interested in handing you a method plain enough to try on a Tuesday evening, and honest enough to admit when it doesn't work. My birth chart books grew out of my own frustration with charts that were technically accurate and practically unreadable — full of symbols nobody defined, with no worked example to follow from start to finish. My pendulum book grew out of the opposite problem: methods that asked for belief up front and gave you nothing afterward to check it against.

I don't have a framed certificate or a client list to point to. What I have is years of my own notes, a habit of writing a reading down before I know whether it's right, and a fairly stubborn insistence that a method should hold up under its own weight. Astrology and dowsing aren't the centre of my life in any dramatic sense — they're something I do the way other people do crosswords or keep a garden: a small, ordinary practice I keep returning to because it keeps rewarding attention.

So that's what you'll find in these books: no gatekeeping, no credentials I don't have, and a method at the front of every one of them that you can test for yourself before you trust the rest.

— Cora