A Life On The Tiles

My Life on the tiles in deepest France

Summertime and the living is easy. Oh yes - you can't keep a good old hedonist down. Someone - take command, put away the sun, chain me to the desk, hide the oysters and the scent of roses on the Quai des Fleurs. Flatten the surf, sour the wine, give me guilt without guilty pleasure. I suppose I could see it all as research particularly when it's the first Wednesday and time for the Insecure Writers Support Group.

Well, perhaps it will be cloudy tomorrow. If something does not intervene then this is how things will end, in the late warm air from the South, glass raised to the moon in the dark star stabbed sky. 

There are mosquitoes, cellulite and sunburn of course. I think this is the path to tread back to work. I have been writing a fairy story in the way that hedonist romantics write - kinda in the head a bit. It will hit the page today I promise.

So, pretty insecure I guess and made even worse by the book I'm reading. It has galloped off like a full frontal sexy romance which had me considering what time I could get my man to bed. There's only one problem - the author is a bloke, un homme, a guy. Yes, it looks like the old monopoly might be slipping away. Now THAT does make me feel insecure. Better double up on the wine and chocolate - just to get some extra passion in the mix. The book is "The Gaze" by Javier A. Robayo.  I'll just have to finish it and the sun is warm on the Terrasse. As soon as I'm feeling secure enough I'll post a review. I think it will be hot.

Emma thinx: You get more sex out of a good book than there is in it.