Remember the days when I could write poetically about a whole lot of stuff? These days I feel like there are just a few precious minutes in between naps (Amélie’s, not mine… sometimes mine) when I can sit long enough to get to my Paris Letters. So when she decided to have a growth spurt and take a rare long nap, I pulled out the paints and wrote a letter about my second favourite boucher in Paris. We all know who wins first place.
But I digress. I was so very pleased by how the water ran and mixed and mingled with the autumn leaves in this Montmartre scene…
Almost a shame to write all over it, but I did. I mean, a copy of it. I’m not insane. As we can read in reviews of my books, typos and errors do happen on occasion. Gawd don’t people have other things to do?
Being a writer these days is a tough business. Everyone has an opinion and our inboxes are maxed out with requests to review our purchases and services. Someone on Facebook even had the audacity to criticize the apple of our eye, Sam Heughan, in the most recent episode of Outlander. I mean, if Sam is getting grief, is there hope for any of us artists who put our work out in the world?
It tells the story of when yours truly went to cooking school in Paris. Hey, if you need an egg poached, I’m your girl.
I’ve also been reading the Secret Letter Project by fellow Sourcebooks author Juliet Madison.
It is “a journal for reflection, growth, and transformation through the art of letter writing,” and by golly it works. After you have a baby, your mind gets all mushy and weird. You stop hearing that voice inside… the voice that helps you figure out your life… the voice that actually writes your books for you… the voice that is your pal, your confidant, your Golden Girl.
So for a while there, my inner Estelle went mute. Estelle was replaced by, well, just a list of things to do around the house and another voice that tried to arrange the list so that it could get done.
So my inner Russell Crowe from A Beautiful Mind was all “Laundry in wash, make lunch, laundry in dryer, go to store, first finish orders, then post office, then store, no wait, first store, then laundry…”
But then the Secret Letter Project came along and somehow, writing myself a letter from my future self, or my future house, or my old lady self (myself as a Golden Girl?) seemed to slowly rewire, or restitch my brain back together. Thank goodness, because I really like my brain. Anyway, the Secret Letter Project is a big recommend for making big plans, or even just connecting with your inner Golden Girl.
Hey, thank you for being a friend. Your heart is true. You’re a pal and a confidant.