Ever since I read Peter Mayle's books, Provence has had this double connotation for me - of great food and idyllic writing retreat. So when it came to choosing the location of our grand vacation - the place where I would hide away to write my book and my characters would spill on the laptop screen fully-fledged and fired-up - there was no question in my mind that it should be somewhere in Provence.
This proposal ran into some initial opposition from my beloved, but his protests were quickly squelched. (In fact, my recent cooking efforts have moved him to admit that I was right to insist on Provence. Of course I was right! I have a persistent tendency in that sense. Honestly, the world would chug along much more smoothly if everyone just listened to me! 😀)
However, while I was, as aforementioned, utterly and unquestionably right, I did run into some problems with my choice. Let me illustrate what I mean. Here is the view from my writing table:
Each morning, I sit outside on the terrasse with the sun smiling down on me and the birds singing and the bees buzzing (and also, alas, the wasps, the flies and assorted other bugs zipping around). I gaze upon the Luberon in the distance, and our pool in the smaller distance, and our olive trees and flowers nearby. I reach for my writing assistants, which I keep quite close at hand (coffee and eclairs).
And then I write my character being tortured in prison. She's endured endless interrogations. And no one believes that she's innocent!
I gaze upon the Luberon - and imagine a prison cell. Well... you see my dilemma. I've started listening to rock, which sort of helped.
Yesterday, I finally got her out of prison. She's had a brief respite with her friends, who are rather colorful members of a theater troupe. I found this part surprisingly easy to write, thanks to the many online parties I enjoyed on livejournal. But now, she's facing her nemesis and his henchman, armed only with her wits. We'll see how well my garden view cooperates with the writing of this chapter. :-)
This proposal ran into some initial opposition from my beloved, but his protests were quickly squelched. (In fact, my recent cooking efforts have moved him to admit that I was right to insist on Provence. Of course I was right! I have a persistent tendency in that sense. Honestly, the world would chug along much more smoothly if everyone just listened to me! 😀)
However, while I was, as aforementioned, utterly and unquestionably right, I did run into some problems with my choice. Let me illustrate what I mean. Here is the view from my writing table:
Each morning, I sit outside on the terrasse with the sun smiling down on me and the birds singing and the bees buzzing (and also, alas, the wasps, the flies and assorted other bugs zipping around). I gaze upon the Luberon in the distance, and our pool in the smaller distance, and our olive trees and flowers nearby. I reach for my writing assistants, which I keep quite close at hand (coffee and eclairs).
And then I write my character being tortured in prison. She's endured endless interrogations. And no one believes that she's innocent!
I gaze upon the Luberon - and imagine a prison cell. Well... you see my dilemma. I've started listening to rock, which sort of helped.
Yesterday, I finally got her out of prison. She's had a brief respite with her friends, who are rather colorful members of a theater troupe. I found this part surprisingly easy to write, thanks to the many online parties I enjoyed on livejournal. But now, she's facing her nemesis and his henchman, armed only with her wits. We'll see how well my garden view cooperates with the writing of this chapter. :-)
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