Grand Opening

Well, what an evening it proved to be. There were at least 50 mixed French and English people milling about our drive last night with wine and nibbles in hand and I was quite overcome by their appreciation of the event and my paintings - I sold 4 and have reserved another! It was a gloriously sunny evening, but everyone kept in the shade of our old barn where my studio is built. My lovely French doctor brought his artist wife with him, the mayor of the village was there, the creator of the village website and his wife were there and want to put the studio on the site. The freelance journalist who runs the village shop came and took photos. And old Monsieur Dufort from down the road arrived unshaven, filthy dirty in shorts and carpet slippers, grinning inanely but paying a lot of attention to my work and saying that he would be back. I asked how Madame Dufort was and he shook his head and told me that she had taken to her bed for two days. The reason, he claimed, was "flooding" - then indicated the alcohol on the table next to us, saying "too much of that!". There's more, but I won't bore you with any more of an artist's life in downtown Gascony!

On the writing side, I've just had another full-length novel accepted by Robert Hale - my seventh with them. It's set on the islands of St Kilda, circa 1900, and it's called "The Raging Spirit". So, after two stale years I'm back on form again and once I get over my exhaustion of the last couple of weeks leading up to the studio opening I'll be very happy to lose myself in another imaginary world. Today, however, I'm already sinking slowly into the sunset long before it gets over the yard-arm.

Thank heavens the week-long wedding party down the road has finally fizzled out and all is tranquil again. But it was great to see the wedding transport (a huge tractor) trundling and hooting its way through the village with long poles and silver streamers floating out behind it, followed by all the wedding guests in their cars hooting their horns. When it comes to the French country folk they certainly know how to have fun.

At last!

The new studio/gallery is finally finished and I've moved in, though there's still plenty to do before I hold my opening night and weekend portes ouverts in September. My husband is busily constructing me a storage unit for my materials and I'm waiting for the arrival of the special plugs for the walls so I can hang my pictures - hope my artisan friend hasn't forgotten them!
On the writing side I've at last managed to send off my latest novel and will wait with baited breath to hear the result from publisher Hale. It's two years since I had anything with them and, times being how they are these days in the publishing world, they may give me the old negative blue biro.
I'd love to say that I'm writing again in full flood, but right now I'm facing a marathon of painting so I have something new and perhaps more exciting to hang in the new studio, which is big enough to take quite a lot of paintings as well as visitors - I say hopefully.
I'm still clearing out the old camping car, which has done me proud as a workshop for the last couple of years. I shall miss my window on the pond and the distant hillsides, but there are far more advantages in having a proper place, well insulated, good light and electricity. The only thing it's lacking is running water, but then it's not a far step to our kitchen and downstairs bathroom, so I'm not complaining.

What a day!

Woke up to fog this morning, but it didn't take long for the sun to burn its way through. Sunday is my "writer's day of rest". I usually listen to Radio 2 while pottering about the house, especially doing the ironing. When I iron I do it in the dining room, which also doubles up as my personal gym (I have an exercise bike, an abs-cruncher, leg elastics and a trampoline - and I must get cracking on them again soon or my weight will be surpassing itself!) It is also the favourite play place for my two Yorkies, being the only room carpetted (are there two t's in that?) and they can chase balls without skidding on floor tiles and breaking something.

We had a sad happening this morning however. I went to say bonjour to my two pooches, who sleep in his and hers teepees in the place we euphomistically call "the back porch", but it could more aptly be called "the muck room" cos it's always mucky due to leaves and half the garden either being blown in or brought in by Candy, Toby and husband Brian. A few weeks ago we noticed that a pair of Black Redstarts had decided to build their nest high on a beam in there. Brian took a pane of glass out so they could come and go when the doors were shut. Yesterday the female was sitting high and proud over young. This morning there was no nest, no baby birds. Just an empty space and one of the parents sitting in the open window looking bemused. The poor thing kept looking at me as if I could tell it what had happened - I almost felt guilty. It had to be a marten, a rat or a large bird. I was so looking forward to having the chicks tweeting and seeing them leave the nest. Ah well, as they say in these parts, c'est la vie!

In the afternoon we went up to a local "book swap" and mingled with dozens of other English people. As usual, I wasn't going to bring any more books back to my overflowing unread shelves, but I ended up with a bagful and the dear old husband came back with three huge shopping carriers full - where he's going to put them all heaven only knows. But I did pick up one or two good research books that are bound to help with the writing. I much prefer a nice hard-backed book in my hands rather than the computer screen, though I have to admit I do most of my research by Internet now. It was a nice, social occasion and we met just about everybody we knew from the English community, and some new people, which is always good. However, the heat and the sun in which I'm not supposed to be without the old F50+ drove me back home reasonably quickly with a car boot full of reading matter. I wish I had more time to read. It's usually no more than a handful of pages, if I'm lucky, before my head lolls on my chest.

Later, after Brian arrived with his final bag of books, he said he had brought me a surprise from the "do" and looked so pleased with himself I cringed inside - he doesn't go in for presents normally and when he does they aren't always something to jump up and down for joy for. He presented me with a pristine copy of Frederick Forsythe's "Day of the Jackal". You might well raise your eyebrows, but there is a story behind this book. Nearly thirty years ago I bought the book and before I got to read it Brian pinched it to take away with him to the Islands of St Kilda in the Outer Hebrides. I made him promise to bring it back. No, he didn't, as you have already guessed - hey, stop getting ahead of me! He had read it, torn it into sections and passed the sections to some fellow in his party to read while Brian read the rest. Then it got chucked in the bin. I was not a happy bunny when I learned its fate and I've never let him forget it. So now you know the significance of him giving me the book so many years later. I'll probably never read it, but boy will I keep it safe!

The only other incident of note was that young Toby brought in a foul-smelling hen's egg that he'd found in the garden (and before you ask, no we do not have hens or any other livestock - must have been stolen from our neighbours). Looking guilty, he ran past me into the sitting room with the thing in his mouth and proceeded to eat it - aaghh! I managed to get most of it from him - sheesh it stank to high heaven. Okay, you've guessed, a little while later my little man (aged ten months) sicked up all his breakfast on his window seat in my office. Double sheesh!

Well, I am now giving thought to my next book, the present one (set on the Islands of St Kilda would you believe!) is finished and the final edit is half complete. My mind is swinging between two stories, both of which I've started, but not continued, neither of which has worked out quite the way I would like. Do I go for the psychological drama or the blood and guts scary murder most foul thriller? The latter is calling me pretty strongly, so I think I'll have another look at it - got the idea for the storyline from watching the Jeremy Kyle show. It's amazing where inspiration comes from sometimes. Mostly the ideas just kind of drop into my head as if they are posted by some invisible hand.

Change of mind. It's getting late, so I think I'll go to bed and try to read more than a couple of pages of Harlan Coban's "Play Dead" before the sandman snatches me away. Goodnight dear friends.

Birth of an art studio

I've dreamed of it, wished for it during more years than I care to remember. A proper studio of my own. Well, as I write this, the dream is fast becoming reality as I'm sitting here listening to the enthusiastic work going on in our big shell of a barn. In another few days I should be able to work in the new studio - painting and writing and, hopefully, receiving visitors to my permanent exhibition of paintings. Don't you just love it when dreams come true? I am so lucky and can hardly wait to get started on a marathon of painting so I will have something to show at the official opening in September.
Meanwhile, I'm hard at work editing my latest novel, but finding it hard to concentrate because of the builders and their noise, not to mention the great heat we are experiencing at the moment with afternoon temperatures running up to around 90°F. Summer has been long in coming but my goodness now that it's here it's hitting us hard.

Followers

I'm very flattered at finding that I have a follower! Even more so because Kirpal is a fellow-artist living not so far away from me. I'm looking forward to meeting her. The second follower is me - I'm pretty new to this blog business and don't know what I'm doing half the time, which is why I seem to be following myself!

I spent most of yesterday putting my office in order. It's nearly there - just a few tweaks here and there and I'll feel more like working in it. Some people can work in any old muddle (like my husband), but I prefer things to be orderly. Things get out of order very quickly when I'm writing, especially if there's a lot of research involved. I reach a certain level, then I have to give in the urge to tidy the place up or I find the chaos shuts down the creative side of my brain and causes stress.

There is an advantage to clearing a space on the desk - I invariably find little treasures or long-lost important documents. My new puppy likes to think of himself as my little helper in that department - if he gets high enough he will take, run off with and chew anything he can get in his mouth, and for a wee Yorkshire Terrier he has a mighty big mouth!

THRILLER IN THE MAKING

Getting back to normal after going through a long period of episodes you would rather not remember is far from easy. However, at long last I feel that "normal", if you could ever call my life that, is taking hold again.

The shelved novel is getting it's final edit and will soon be off to the publisher. Better still, the thriller I've been carrying in my head for a while is starting to flow onto paper. I've always managed to get suspense in my novels, but I'm finding an out and out thriller much more difficult to write. It's so easy to get caught up in the tangled web I myself am creating. Setting clues and red herrings is easy, but working out the who, the where, the why and the how is far more complicated than I imagined.

However, it's refreshing to write something entirely different, something I have dreamed of writing for as long as I can remember. Right now, the biggest mystery is who the hero or heroine is going to be - not to mention the murderer! Maybe I should do what Agatha Christie is said to have done and not decide until the last chapter.

Well, I'd better get back to the editing of The Raging Spirit today and think more about The Second Man tomorrow.

Success!

It's hard to believe that the "big eat" has happened and is well over. It was an unqualified success, even if I say so myself - with a huge sigh of relief. I would upload a photo of the event, but somehow it refuses to be uploaded, so you'll just have to imagine fitting 24 bums on 24 seats around 4 tables in one room. That dining room is bigger than I thought. It was a superb evening with my art students and their partners and I'm so glad I did it, though I'm swearing never to repeat the performance!

It's five days later and the house is back to normal, but I'm still tired and hurting after a fall last night into my pansies - they were in big terracotta pots and it was a hard landing. The bruising I received is interesting to say the least. Today I was planning to start the final read of my latest novel "The Raging Spirit" set on the wild islands of St Kilda a hundred years ago, but I think I might put that on the Tomorrow shelf and sink in front of the tele instead.

One achievement I have made in the last couple of days is to set up a Yahoo Group called "Writers in France" and I already have a lively membership of half a dozen people, with hopes for more. Future plans for the group? Well, I may organise regular meetings and workshops - it's very much a "watch this space" moment.

Watching the proverbial space really sums up my life when you come to think about it. Good, bad and ugly, the space fillers are fascinating and grist to the mill for a writer.

Awaken your talents!

Well, this last weekend the talents of the villages in our immediate area and, in particular, my own art group, were truly awakened and on show during a two-day exhibition.

My pupils made me so proud I was jumping for joy. The work on show was produced only since January when I decided to challenge them with the theme of Wildlife, my own specialty. They all looked shocked at the time and claimed that they couldn't possibly draw or paint animals. However, with a little help from "teacher" they ended up by producing some pretty good work and really enjoyed it. You'll see my work in the centre, surrounded by that of my pupils.

I'm planning something entirely different for the new term that starts on the 22nd April, and then, after a break in July and August, I'll be thinking of what I can do to accompany the local children's Christmas fête - all proceeds going toward supporting the school in our village. Last year I managed to raise 170 euros with a mini-boot-sale and the school spent it on an outing and art materials.

What am I planning for the 24th April - I'm turning my house into a small retaurant and catering for a sit-down dinner for my pupils and their partners - 24 places! It will be interesting to see if I can fit them all in our large dining room, but there is also a large hall to overflow into. And please don't let me burn anything!

Writer's Nightmare

Yes, it happens to all of us writers...and artists. The kind of thing we all dread. Injury. Last year I injured the middle finger of my right hand while doing "keep-fit"! I'm right-handed, so it not only affected my work, it stopped it for weeks. The finger is still giving me bother, but I try to ignore in in the hope that it will go away. Yesterday, I attempted to clean up the patio because I'm expecting to host a group of charity cyclists coming to see my art workshop and gallery. We'd had a lot of rain recently and one of the bigger pots was overflowing with water. I decided to tip it up to emty out the surplus, but it was too heavy and went too far and - aie! You guessed it. One very pulled and painful muscle in my right arm and I'm already struggling to meet both writing and painting deadlines.

Today the weather is mixed, wind, rain, sun, cloud, some thunder. Hopefully it will be warm and sunny tomorrow for the cyclists who are expected to come chez moi. Speaking of which - chez moi that is - I suppose I should put up a photo or two so you can picture the place as I speak about it. Don't expect miracles. Technology and I aren't on good speaking terms. Anyway, I'll have a go and see what happens.

A day in the life of a writer

Let's face it, writers are just people, even if they do disappear into an imaginary world so many hours a day. They are not ordinary people, but they still have to do ordinary things. Well, at least they do if they are female! Male writers, in general, can get their heads down and plod on with the hopeful best-seller without interruption. Female writers, unless they are earning mega-bucks, pounds or euros, still have to stop to make the coffee and the meals, do the washing and the ironing and the cleaning, go shopping, walk the dog, see to the children and talk to the next door neighbour because there's nothing worth watching on the tele and the woman is bored.

Out of all the above the only thing I don't have are children. I used to cry over that lack in my life, but now I'm too old to get emotional about it, though I do still harbour the odd regret, especially around Christmas time.

All writers have their own way of working, the way it works for them. I'm not at all consistent these days, although I used to write from ten in the morning till almost midnight for a few years until the fuses blew and my body told me that I'd overdone it. Never again, though even now, once the words are flowing I can keep going for hours on end, with short breaks for sustenance an a caffeine fix with "Murder She Wrote". When I grow up I want to be Jessica Fletcher!

Today, however, has not been a normal day in my life. It started with the usual chaos at around eight o'clock when my two dogs, Candy and Toby, had their little war of the canines between telling me it was time they had their breakfast. That was followed by me trying to sort them out, have my own breakfast and tidy up the house, which should have been done yesterday, but I got sidetracked by my painting of an African elephant! This morning we were expecting a visit from a local insurance man to look at our insurances and see if he could offer us lower premiums than we were already paying. I spent two and a half hours with him and my husband, who doesn't speak French, translating, explaining, searching for papers up and downstairs. Toby the 7 month old puppy tried to eat up the insurance man's documents, then ran off with one of my documents and I threw a cup of coffee over myself. Giles, the insurance man, thought it was all very entertaining. He must think we English are completely mad.

We grabbed a quick sandwich for a late lunch and I was just settling down to work when a couple of strangers knocked on the door asking for details of my art class for the wife and French lessons for the husband.

I've managed to take young Toby for a short walk to get rid of a bit of manic energy and it's now 4.45 pm - and do you know, I couldn't write a word if you paid me! I'd go and put a few brush strokes on my elephant painting, but it's gone all stormy outside and the light is too poor to work in my "atelier", which is our old camping car converted into a mini-studio. I think I'll just have a stiff drink, put my feet up, do a bit of therapeutic knitting and watch one of my "Friends" DVDs. Tomorrow is a new day, no?

I think I've just created a blog, but being useless at this kind of thing, as well as a technophobe (and I don't even know how to spell that) I may be sitting here writing this to myself. It seems that everybody who is anybody has one - a blog that is - so I though I might as well jump on the band-waggon.

I've been painting and writing all my life and sometimes it's hard to decide which I love best. Recently, because "life" got in the way, I put writing aside and concentrated on my painting and the running of my small art group - an ongoing course in drawing and painting for beginners. However, I'm back into my writing mode again, which is long overdue and I hope my publishers haven't drawn the dreaded blue biro line through my name!

At present I'm editing a book set in St Kilda a hundred years ago - The Raging Spirit - that should have been submitted last year! And I'm writing a new contemporary story called Bright New Day and which deals with two people moving on after a fatal road accident. Not sure what genre this fits. There's drama, romance and suspense all intermingled - I like my books to have a bit of everything in them.