Confessions of a Chick in Paris

Confessions of a Chick in Paris

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Precious “Nothing Days” for a Writer in Paris…

May 22, 2013 , , , , , , , ,

SDC13269There is no specific recipe for how a day should go when you’re a writer in Paris.

At first my days were filled with solo touristy jaunts, quickly followed by ice-breaking meet-ups, which then gave way to follow-up encounters since I convinced people I’m normal (ha!) and conned them into being my friend (if you’re in Paris and you’re reading this, I jest, oh how I jest! Wanna hang out next week?). These plans and hangouts were not only fun but exhilarating; it was the thrill of getting to know people from diverse backgrounds, and the way it fed inspiration for the book I’m here to write.

Yes, it was great, but all of these encounters meant seven days in a row of “stuff”…so much stuff! Late bedtimes on top of late bedtimes, leaving clothes strewn about because I had to be at this place or that place, it was hectic, and I hadn’t considered that “full-time writer life” would be like that. Instead I had this stereotypical vision in my head, in which I huddle over my typewriter at a secluded log cabin, sitting out by a lake with the chirping birds as my only companions. I have no explanation for why that particular vision was my stereotype when I knew I was moving to Paris, like how many lakes are there in central Paris? Maybe I should open a map sometime, jeez.  As for the typewriter, if it don’t have Wi-Fi, that shit ain’t right.

So it isn’t the solo cabin life for me, but I’m extremely grateful for the recent frenzy, because I know that in order to write you first need to live, and I’ve never felt more alive on a daily basis than here in Paris.

Today however, the frenzy went on pause, when a totally different recipe for a “writer day” developed.

It was a mellow set of tantalizing ingredients:

-One daytime encounter with a fellow human and writer, which really put my mind in the writer mood

-A café creme on a terrace where it was actually sunny (the weather has been weird here lately, and by weird, I mean absolute shit)

-Intent observation of an elderly woman (with a cruel expression she demanded cigarettes from people on the terrace, then came back around a minute later to demand even more)

-Being taken to Ernest Hemingway’s first apartment in Paris, where I felt the significance of the Lost Generation in my bones

-Casually walking along but then doing a double-take, because the winding, cobble-stoned street to my left was totally enchanting

-A “baguette tradition” that was still warm when I bought it (at six p.m.!)

-A slab of Comté fromage

-Enjoying a leisurely walk home, during which I bit into my baguette with a smile (imagine my face taking a bite of something while sporting a clown smile in a public place, plus my crazy eyes (“crazy eyes” stem from my unstable personality which was confirmed in paragraph two of this post)

Instructions for the above ingredients:


The day was not over by six p.m., but to have done so little and to have felt so inspired was a thrilling paradox. The cheese excited me the most, since it was the first time I’d bought anything other than a safe wheel of Brie or Camembert at a Fromagerie. This time I actually asked for something, tasted it, and told her how much to slice off, all in French (and I’m glad to have been tipped off about Comté by one of my French pals—merci!).

By seven p.m., with my belly full of bread and cheese an even more thrilling thing occurred:

-I put on my pajamas

The tourists on the street were still strutting around in their uncomfortable jeans, but my PJs and hoodie were on (including the hood), and I was ready to write!

All evening long the soundtrack from Drive provided the inspiration (what a great soundtrack!), as I relaxed and wrote with my horrible penmanship skills (I hope I’ll be able to read it later). The ideas are flowing and I’m almost ready for sticking the Post-It notes on my walls, the ones that’ll guide book three. I also feel ready to re-experience the emotions from the previous book, so I can bring all my characters back to life for their latest adventure.

And all it took was a whole lotta nothin’…



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I assume you’ve read, A Writer’s Paris: A Guided Journey for the Creative Soul, by Eric Maisel. If not, you must get it post haste from your little book shop. It will speak to you, for sure.

Parttime Parisienne

May 31, 2013

I have written the name of this book in my phone; I will find it! Thank you 🙂


June 20, 2013

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