A beauty of still water reflects a calm of timeless stone.
My problem in France is that I'm an Anglo-Saxon. I'm a pillager, not a villager. Every time I launch a raid on the Super U supermarché there's more and more plunder. Fruits of the sea lead on to Charentais melons, Boeuf Bourginon, sorbet-citron and cheese. Soft creamy morning light caresses while deep warm evening wines seduce. Oh if only I were a famous travel writer I could claim it was all research! As it is I'm a penniless recidivist hedonist bloggerist with no excuses.
Shine a light and I will follow
A couple of nights ago I trotted out with my camera to capture something of the mellow soft late summer joy of my town. Really, it's not a place - it's an emotion, a passion and the thrill of calm. I took some shots. Voila! Soon my sense of guilt and over indulgence gave way to philosophical reflection. I have been working on a novel. My man
You rays me up..........
has been working on the leaking roof. Neighbours have stopped and shrugged at the unpredictability of roof tiles, love and fate. Toasts have been drunk to all of them. The air is feathered with swallows. The raised brow of autumn patiently indulges the unacknowledged end of youth. Still the noon is warm. I close my eyes and bask with the lizards.
Writing has never been about the number of words. The song title “Turn, Turn,Turn.” is only three
words but it was this addition that Pete Seeger applied to the biblical words
of Ecclesiastes and made the song something of
a philosophical icon of the last century
I can never see sunflowers without this song running through
my head when I am here in France. The French word “tournesol” carries the
notion of turning to the sun. We have fields of thousands of joyful shining
faces that turn and turn and turn to their guiding sun. Of course, they have their season, and the
season turns.
Close to my home there is a field of such flowers. In the
middle is a rigid old tree, long dead. My pagan heart has been pondering this scene. The
vibrant brash beauty forms a sea around this old rock. The picture at its most
obvious level is of youth and death set in the context of time and season. Even
so, the dead tree speaks as loudly as the clamouring crowd at its feet. Once it
was a seed. Now it is an orator as the crowd turns its face to follow its
message across the perfect blue sky each day closer to autumn and harvest.
In a similar mood I found myself in the 12th
Century Romanesque church of Saint Savinien a few nights ago. The occasion was
a concert performed by the Mukachevo boys choir. This group of young men from
Ukraine visited our little village in France as part of a programme operated by
“Eurochestries”. Broadly the idea is to spread the culture and music of “Euro”
peoples to each other and to give opportunity to young folk to express their
talents and see foreign lands. And there in the middle of this ocean of youth
was a fossilised Romantic novelist applauding my little heart out to these
wonderful young guys. They opened with JS
Bach (Jesu, Joy Of Man’s Desiring) and ended with ABBA (Thank-you For The Music).
Watch
the videos and catch the re-writing of the lyric for the soloists in the ABBA
song. They didn't have any “girls with golden hair” but they pulled through
like super troupers.
And there it is - my wonderful life here in France. Turning
tournesols reach for the sun. Young men stretch their voices upwards with the
joy and talent of youth. And my eyes, ears, hands and life - here to see, hear,
love and write. The principal contents of this post were featured on my Venture Galleries Authors Collection blog Emma Thinx: Youth is a box of chocolates. Age is fat, sugar and doctors. Wisdom is eating the pralines.
So, the party's over. The Bloggers Book Fair has ended. I hope all you guys out there enjoyed the breath of new air on these pages. My thanks to all the contributors. While all that was going on I have been moving myself back to France. Oh - the endless torment of wine, 400 cheeses, moules marinieres and not forgetting kilos of bulots. These wonderful sea molluscs are sold as whelks in the UK and USA but you sure can't buy them in Walmart in England. Oooh - You just can't beat a nice bit of firm flesh and juice.
An amazingly non photo shopped pic de famille
As all you historians out there will know, the French dealt with their issues of class, wage differentials and royal deference by inventing the guillotine. Ever since then they have been inventing media to borrow everyone else's royals. Michelle and Barack count equally: (the dog buying story played well here). Everyone in France wants to know how excited I am by the birth of THE Royal babe. Every French magazine headlines royal baby stories. The UK press has reverted to sensational stories about Killer Heat Waves (three days without rain) and JK Rowling pen names. In my little village there are racks of royal baby mags with William and Kate souvenir oyster knives. The little soul's third name is Louis which might please them I guess, although we did fight wars with many French kings of that name. I know from an inside source that the Queen has read "Knockout!" and wanted him named after Joe Louis, the great American boxer but you'll never convince the French.
Smile though your legs are breaking. No photo shop here!
Nursing my wounded knee,I mounted the tandem yesterday and knocked out 51 kilometres (about 30 miles). It wasn't too bad. I think the old Sparrow is still smiling a bit but poets have to have gravitas he tells me! And finally, the Love In A hopeless Place Collection launched. I'll be frank - even though I'm emma. These are literary stories and I had no hopes of sales or even interest. They are part of my own history and experience and I wanted to write them. Two reviewers have picked them up and been most generous. The reviews are here and I just want to say that readers make this quest so wonderful. Both these guys spotted what this was all about and took the trouble to reward me. Gentlemen you do most genuinely have my heart. I love you as fellow literati. Emma Thinx: You'll never get up off your knees if you can't get down on them.
I am ashamed to admit, my embouchure was rather slack, having not had it out for nearly a year. My lips were swollen and buzzing by the end... my poor instrument is rusting away from lack of use. I would never have believed my glissando would get exposed to such a wide audience!
Well the 31st was the final stop on my world tour - blowing my own trumpet trombone to announce the launch of my new book –
An apt description of the life of a modern author. We do not shiver in isolation in our bare garrets writing away in anonymity. We are out there in the spotlight, baring it all and putting on a show. We perform a
variety act for our readers – social media, blogs, interviews,
appearances. As the song says, 'What good is sitting alone in
your room? Come hear the music play?'
Edelweiss
A love song for all you romance writers and readers out there – pure love in the form of a small and perfect mountain bloom.
Rock-a-my-Sex
(Sax/Soul)
Well – this is an adaptation of an old song – the title brought up to date for a modern romance writer. Eroticism has come of age as the effects of the “50 Shades...” permeate through the romance genre.
The Muppets
A nod to the madness of the circus. A jibe at the desperation of the modern day novelist. I am the worst - prone to jumping on every band-wagon. Trying to ride the latest wave; to identify and mimic the traits of the successful who have raised their books above the parapet and made a few sales.
… and sometimes you just need those two old guys on the balcony to put their heads up, blow a few raspberries of ridicule and point their fingers to bring you back down to earth.
At the end of the day it's all about putting your soul into your writing. This is what matters. One has to avoid becoming a Muppet jumping to the call of the puppeteers of the 'system' – whatever it may be!
Thank you for coming!
And the purpose of all this horn blowing? A fanfare for the arrival of my new book -
My series of five short stories are now available under one cover. A bargain way for you to get your hands on my gritty tales-with-a-twist.
The five titles in the collection stand alone in their own right but are linked by a common theme: the universal quest for survival, love, passion and respect against the gritty backdrop of working class life.
During July and August 'ANGELA' a short story from the collection is FREE – so you can even try one before you buy the set!
The 'Blowing my own Trombone Book Launch Blog Tour' is now over - many thanks to these kind folk who have hosted my blasting over the last two weeks! Tonight I am greasing up my old trusty instrument and packing it away until December's street carols... watch this space!
