A Duchess without direction......

I’ve decided that my blog lacks focus. ‘C‘est pas vrai….’ I hear you say.

Si, it’s true. I finally have a little more time to concentrate on the things that interest me, with the little ladies now comfortably settled in school, and I find myself itching to write. But write what? Finish some of the short stories that lay abandoned in my ’writing file’? Or maybe that novel I so eagerly outlined two years ago that still burns a hole in my brain but can’t seem to take on any form of life? I know, I could write some more hugely unrewarding press releases for the Duke’s company, and really feel like I’m really banging my head against a brick wall.

My vast body of published work (okay, three published magazine articles) used to fill me with confidence, but now only fill me with embarrassment when I re read them and cringe at my efforts. Where does a budding writer turn for writing inspiration when they live in a small dukedom somewhere deep in the heart of rural southern France? I know……, the big wide world of blogs, that’s it, where I know my words will always be published, and even just one comment will prove that it hasn’t all been in vain. Self-publishing has never seemed so attractive, or cool. Who needs to get paid? Surely the act of getting my words out there will fulfill my ’itch’ to write and maybe somewhere along the way I may actually write something that doesn’t make me cringe.

Well, that’s my train of thought at the moment. So instead of brainstorming ideas for articles to query the likes of Living France magazine, or starting short stories that draw from my extensive life experiences from the last 34 years, I shall now attempt to play out my stumbling efforts at writing about my life in France through the posts on my blog. I’m sure you are as excited as I am. Are you still there?

God knows it has been done to death already. Writing about being a foreigner in France is now as commonplace has people under retirement age moving to France. My only hope at being unique is that I’m probably more inept at adapting and slightly more naïve than my fellow expats. Surely there should be some humor to be found in my bumbling efforts? I’ve been here now for seven years, and I speak the language, but I sometimes still feel as uneducated about this country I live in as I felt 15 years ago when I stepped off the plane for the first time in France.

So please bear with me for the next few months as I try to put down on paper how it feels to live in a place that at times excites me, other times frustrates me, but always remains the place I call home, for better or worse.