Aujourd'hui

Dawn is the loveliest moment of the day the doves waken me with their cooing. My morning routine to have a wander in the garden, the cool dewy air is always reviving. I say Bonjour to the plants and flowers. Drink orange pekoe tea, waiting for the honey bees to arrive from Madame Lisle’s hives. They buzz in as the sun dances before it sizzles. In the mornings the garden hums with life.

Peter is right when he said I have Miss Marple traits. Since coming here, I have felt strongly this house has secrets. I want to explore the attic. People tend to leave all kinds of interesting things in attics. I’m hesitant to ask Peter’s permission, he could think that an intrusion. Of course, I could do that if I say I’d like to put my small trunk there. That’s taking up space in the bedroom.

I won’t return Du Lille‘s call, he takes his mother to mass, after that they lunch at Madame Lisle’s bistro, he’s a man of rigid habits. I would have gone to Madame Lisle’s for lunch, she’s a gossip and like all gossips, well informed. Sunday is not her best chatting day, most families lunch out on Sundays. French family lunches are long affairs, Madame Lisle will most likely be busy until five o’clock. I'm sure she’s hiding something about the war years, but what could that be?

Peter came home as breakfast was being served. Looking, I have to say, somewhat hung-over. He’s gone to play golf in La Baule. The Brits enjoyed exploring the Loire valley. They were famished this morning, so I cooked Eggs Benedict for them. Nice and easy, better than a high calorie English breakfast. There is a buffet with a lovely selection of cheeses, fruit and croissants. They scoffed much of that as well. I’m not sure where they’ve gone today? They floated some suggestions. Not that it matters to me, where the guests go to.

The cove is deserted I could go there and read my book. I’m only part-way through the Martha Gellhorn biography. Her colourful life as a war correspondent would be a fascinating film. She never really loved Hemingway, their relationship wasn’t one of passion, certainly not on her part. Her novellas are worth reading, those are so well written and racy. Gellhorn was never a boring woman. It seems remise of the film industry, that her life should be neglected. Gellhorn had one of those strong mature faces that never aged much well into her sixties.

I should write a review for my book club. Send that to Davina Tallboys in an e-mail. She hosts the book club discussions. Davina is bossy to an extreme; the Vicar's wife, she runs the poor man ragged with her various organisation activities. She's not keen on the French, never approved of the Common Market. According to her, if the French can do us down, they will. She was quite put out when finding I'm a Francophile. Heaven forbid that she should ever become a Member of Parliament. She has aspirations in that direction. Much like Madame Lisle, Davina’s an intrusive compulsive gossip.

This line from Robert Frost's Fire and Ice, keeps buzzing in my head. "We stand around in a ring and suppose; But the Secret sits in middle--and knows."

A Simple Truth

When a friend referred to the simple truth of love, my initial thought was, there is no simple truth. That only a great philosopher or mystic could provide a discourse about that. Then later, it came to me, that there is. The simple truth of love is best not being intellectualized. Its truth is how we live in it unconditionally with others. How it directs our lives; inspires our deepest yearnings; comforts our grief's; makes our joy ring out. Love is the most gracious, warm aspiration we can have. A deep companionship settles within, when we boldly, imaginatively, share our love.

John O' Donohue proposes: "The imagination is the creative force in the individual. It always negotiates different thresholds and releases possibilities of recognition and creativity which the linear, controlling external mind will never even glimpse. The imagination works on the threshold that runs between light and dark, visible and invisible, quest and question, possibility and fact. The imagination is the great friend of possibility. Where the imagination is awake and alive fact never hardens or closes, but remains open, inviting you to new thresholds of possibility and creativity." Anam Cara: Wisdom from the Celtic World.

The First Paragraph

“One of the most difficult things is the first paragraph. I have spent many months on a first paragraph, and once I get it, the rest just comes out very easily. In the first paragraph you solve most of the problems with your book. The theme is defined, the style, the tone.” Gabriel García Márquez

Red Window Shutters

Jancy loved the old house on the bluff with its red window shutters. She was seven, her brother Teddy five, when they first saw the house, a converted fisherman’s cottage, with a hull shaped shingle roof. That was thirty years ago. Her mother, a practical woman, had rented the house for two summers, before deciding to buy. The price was modest and affordable then. The house, with its wide view of the estuary, healed her mother’s shattered life.

Neither Jancy nor Teddy, recalled much about their father. John Robbins war in the Far East had marked him. Jancy’s mother said she met a stranger when he returned. She had tried to make the marriage work. After the divorce, they moved to the house on the bluff. The rhythm of their childhood, flowed with the work of the house, their mother had converted the front sitting room into a small tearoom. She served cream teas to factory workers on their summer holidays.

Jancy retained sweet memories of long, lazy summers with Teddy, swimming, sailing, and flying home made kites above the sand dunes. When more people came to the estuary, the tearoom flourished, her mother could afford to extend the house. Soon after that she put up a bed and breakfast sign. She hired a girl from the village, Betsy was fifteen then, a fast worker and smart. Jancy liked hanging around with Betsy, who seemed wiser in the ways of the world, than her mother.

A House With Four Rooms

"There is an Indian proverb or axiom that says that everyone is a house with four rooms, a physical, a mental, an emotional, and a spiritual. Most of us tend to live in one room most of the time but, unless we go into every room every day, even if only to keep it aired, we are not a complete person." Rumer Godden.

A useful exercise: to explore your rooms using Natalie Goldberg's approach to writing.

Writing is a compulsive way to make sense of ourselves and the life we live. Storytelling takes us to the creative other within who wants to be heard. Enriching and whilst a solitary occupation, we are never truly alone when telling ourselves a story.

A perceptive colleague once asked "Do you read simply for enjoyment or is there another agenda?" The pleasure factor is high, that begins with browsing for new and established authors. Holding a book and reading the cover blurb, is anticipatory. The hidden treasure to discover inside, a teasing thought.

Then there are the pauses, when thinking about the characters as a story moves along. Finding an author's story devices, I'm into that kind of analysis, that’s part of my reading pleasure. How I become hooked by a story and what makes it an irresistible read, gives me a buzz.

Half Moon Street

When Kate Lancing read a newspaper advertisement for a commissioning editor, she was initially attracted by a name. Tucked away in an unpretentious area of London’s Bloomsbury, Half Moon Street had engaged her imagination. That plus Kate’s proclivity for a change of scene, which suited her situation as a woman on the brink of finding herself, swayed her to post an application letter.

The small academic publishing house of Jonas Finkelstein, had over thirty years, established a reputation for excellence. The present senior editor would be retiring, and Kate, if successful, felt confident she could follow that imprint with similar dedication. The position required an experienced person of mature temperament. Although a less experienced editor would be considered. This latter compromise had been included at the insistence of the junior partner, Larry Fisk. He had persuaded someone he knew in the trade to apply. A woman he could charm and manipulate.

Kate Lancing’s approach to life had more than surface texture. Failing to obtain a Doctorate after two attempts, she had settled for an MPhil. Her failure, as she saw it, was due to no more than male academics prejudices against women. Thereafter, she resolved to deal with her male counterparts, by critiquing their work with scything comments as a manuscript editor. Kate’s intention whilst initially vengeful had the opposite effect. Her diligence and accuracy was such, that over time she felt overwhelmed by the volume of work coming her way. Those who had denied Kate a PhD, were advising their doctoral students to consult her. Kate’s name became an unexpected byword, for those students subsequent publishing success. Her uncle Thad had coined her work the lancing principle, an imperative much like lancing a carbuncle. Which he postulated, had made her editing reputation one of the best.

James Thaddeus Lancing, Professor of Anatomy and Physiology at University College Hospital, London, had published the first revised edition of Henry Gray's Anatomy for Medical Students, with Finkelstein of Half Moon Street. The book had been a runaway international success, with seven reprints. His reference, and the fact his book had given the publishing house much needed international prestige, ensured Jonas Finkelstein would be obligated to shortlist Kate for an interview.

Larry Fisk of diminutive stature, pernickety habits, and devious ambitions, had other thoughts about Kate’s application. As an avowed socialist, who deeply resented patronage, Larry refused to be persuaded by Professor Lancing's reference. Cautious with an eye to his own future plans, Larry was careful not to antagonise Jonas. Instead, he used new employment regulations, attempting to ensure his partner retained an open mind. Jonas, however, had already consulted his retiring senior editor Marjorie Cummings. Who had assured him, Kate Lancing was the most suitable applicant. That satisfied Jonas, who avoided further discussion with his junior partner.

Marjorie Cummings and Larry Fisk, had a relationship of mutual dislike. Taller by seven inches, Marjorie's height was a humiliating contrast for Larry. Always careful to avoid confrontation, Marjorie’s disapproval, only ever evident when she raised a finely arched eyebrow. Reluctantly, she had to credit him with bringing in new business to Half Moon Street. Not that she ever voiced that to him. In her estimation, Larry was a puffed-up pipsqueak, who although he knew the business inside out, lacked the manners of a gentleman. She bristled on the occasions when he would smirk and say, “Times are changing, Marjorie.” As if she never knew, times are always changing.

Political books were Larry's line, which Marjorie conceded he commissioned from eminent, reliable, people. She couldn’t fault him on that score. Conversely, from the outset, Larry saw Marjorie for what he thought she was. A pretentious, Oxford educated, conservative snob. He couldn’t resist sending the occasional jibe in her direction. For all they had irritations and differences, they shared a mutual respect for the business. The publishing house was more important than their frosty relationship. And they mostly kept business matters to the forefront, when engaging in conversations.

As for her retirement plans, convinced Larry would eventually take over the Half Moon Street publishing house from Jonas, Marjorie decided that would never do. Latterly Jonas had become forgetful, less in control since his wife’s death, leaving more of the decisions to Larry. Aware Larry thought Kate Lancing a wild card, Marjorie was all the more determined, she would be appointed. To that end and unbeknown to Larry, Marjorie had persuaded Jonas, to include a future partnership clause in Kate’s contract. Before retiring, she would have six months in which to teach Kate the business. Marjorie's coup de grâce would be in making certain, pawky Larry Fisk had strong unnerving competition.

Nutshell Writing

Two years ago, when planning major home renovations, Sandy popped into my life. She’s a successful interior designer. She also has difficulty with emotional commitment. Not in her work that’s completely focused, obsessive perfection rules her life. Sandy can’t make commitments in her intimate relationships with men. Not the deep loving kind, she’s a control freak. She’s also fictitious.

Personalities and their motivations are initially more important to me than plot. How they behave and react to situations, and other people, develop the plot as well as moving that along. Waiting for inspiration can be unreliable, that’s why I give myself writing exercises. The errors I make when writing aren’t always immediately evident to me. Whilst revising can be tedious, that’s when I see my mistakes.

Nutshell writing: a collection of short speculations, mostly story beginnings. I’m always fascinated by other people’s creative writing process. If any writers should call in, I would love to hear from you.