Catégorie : Writing related topics

Sunday Radio – Storytelling Sparkles

Did you ever fall out of your writing habits? If so, how were you able to get back to it?

Writing was (and it breaks my heart to write « was »…!) not only a habit, but sort of a lifestyle. And despite all the excellent advice on writing you and I can find out there (heck, I posted a couple of these years ago!!!), despite the famous waking up at 5 am, despite that little notebook I keep beside me at all times…

Something is lost.

Overwhelming. All seems to be.
Many dozens of books are published every day, everywhere.
Many dozens of times this summer, the blue sky was grey with smoke, and the sun was red.
Many, many times in the past months – months slowly becoming years-, I found myself in front of this screen, looking for the words to tell stories, to share through them hope, laughter, excitement, drama, and dreams.
In vain.

Then, I heard her voice.

Sunday Radio

An 80-year-old artist explaining how, since she was a kid, her entire being was drawn to drawing, to playing music, to making movies and telling stories.
Her mother bashed and shamed her dreams when she was 9 or 10, telling her she had no talents. Nearly two decades after, the artist was able to move beyond her mother’s shadow to finally embrace what was burning in her : the desire to create, to make art, to tell stories.

This week, this 80-year-old artist, Paule Baillargeon, will see her first book published.

The book highlights her career through her artwork, which she continues to do, even though she lost her independence due to illness, and now lives in a house dedicated to helping seniors who have lost their autonomy.

A long radio interview, which I listened to without doing a billion little other things.
Something was there, in her voice, her will, her strength.

That something I lost, many, many months ago…

Changing Back to Oneself

That something. Where was it anyway?

Well, that something never went far. It was simply hiding, keeping safe.

Hiding from a toxic manager’s influence, financial insecurity, and anxiety. For two years.

Not anymore.
I will not let those noises bash, shame or silence my dreams.
Never again.

Something is found.

Sparkling Stories

Telling stories always made me feel like something was sparkling inside my soul.
Something happy, dancing in my heart.

I’m gonna work less hours. I’m gonna rest. And I’m gonna start writing stories again.

No plan yet. No schedule.

A promise, however… Write every day, for the pure joy of feeling the sparkles shine again.

Thanks for being here, on the long road to achieving a dream: write novels full-time to make people laugh and dream.

Until next time, take care of yourselves.

Tea at Mid Night

Wondering how to bring back the writing inspiration

Autumn is here.

Now, stars are shining, bright, beautiful, friends from the past and the now.

With a good old mug of steaming Earl Grey tea by my side, the blanket that waited in the cupboard all summer long, wishing the nights would get colder already, wrapped around my shoulders.

Under the daylight, in our little corner of the whole wide world, tree leaves burst with breathtaking colours, and when it rains, everything shines, and when the clouds take their leave, everything smiles under a deep blue sky.

Apple picking, pumpkin picking, soft coat, hot chocolate after a long day of walking under a red-yellow-orange-brown-green canopy, I love it all.

At this time of year, Every year, I write about this fabulous season.

And also…
At this time of year…
Every Year…

… either I share my plan about a new writing project OR I write a post about writing routines, writing goals, word counts, productivity tricks.

Etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera

Well, not this year. Not this fall.

Wondering

It’s been unusually warm for September. Ans it looks like it’s gonna get « worst ». The leaves are drying off, and the colours are fading before blooming. It’s been a month since it last rained.

The kind of weather you wish for when your Summer vacations are closing in.

Not very fall-ish weather, not very inspiring.

I’ve been looking for writing inspiration… heck, inspiration period… elsewhere. Wondering how to bring back inspiration when everything we’re used to is changing, vanishing.

Still wondering. Still looking.

I surrounded myself with some good old book friends.

Got a tiny notebook I can carry around, ready to capture a sparkle, a ray of light.

The Sad Destiny of Books

I’ve read a book yesterday.

Whaaat?
Yesterday?
You read a Book?
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?

Ha, but wait, dear fellow writers! I was lucky enough to be able to read an out-of-print book. I sort of mindlessly stumbled upon it in the audiobook section of an app I merely cannot live without these days.
It almost felt like finding a treasure in that used book store nearby where I used to live, about a decade ago. Good times!

It’s the kind of book you might not be able to find in a library either. Indeed, if you live anywhere else than here, in my little North-American francophone bubble, you will definitely not find it anywhere.

(Side note: aren’t you baffle sometimes by the incredible amount of wonderful stories we’ll never read because they are buried in libraries everywhere in the world, written in languages we’ll never learn. Author Carlos Luis Zafon explores the idea in The Cemetery of Forgotten Books; a beautiful novel, if ever you like a bit of magic.)

It’s a young kid novel, released in 2011. The first of 4. And like I said, out-of-print. A fairly interesting little novel, brought back to life by the kind people in charge of the Audiobook section on the OHdio app.

Now, the scene is set. Time for a little confession. I’ve always had ambiguous feelings towards audiobooks, and even more twisted feelings toward Epub and PDF books. My affection is growing over time, still…

Still, I grew up with books printed on paper.
I felt so lucky, back when I worked in bookstores and bookshops, to be able to get my hands on secret ARCs, to discover new books every single week.

I love, love, love spending time curled up with a book in my hands (although, I read less nowadays).
I love the smell of the pages – yep, I’m that kind of gal -, I love the moment where you realized you read a paragraph twice already and it might be time to go to bed but… just one last chapter.

Thing is, as I briefly mentioned above, there’s a bunch of fresh new books released Every Single Week. Of that bunch, there might be ten, twenty new novels, if we agree to mingle all genres and ages here. The most devoted book clerk, the most avid reader can’t possibly read them all.

This leads me back to the main topic of this post: the sad destiny of books.

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