This morning my front door opened and I saw the light blank of white on the side walk as my husband left for work. I prompted turned around and decided to return to my layers of warm blankets. The winter blah got me again, and I decided to stay inside today. Plus I had the wonderful experience of running to the bathroom every five minutes the other day. My body was tired from whatever cold or flu returned again this week.
Despite a repeat of last week, in the circulation of being sick, I managed to get a few things done yesterday. My plan to try an exercise challenge, a belly challenge for 7 days managed to get played but that was only after a meal finally stayed where it should. Food shouldn’t be a punishment and it was for most of Thursdays. My foodie followers would have felt sorry for me.
No matter what took place the other day, my blog got me back into my routine of writing again. My morning brightened because my husband returned to shake a package in his hand. My new book, Paris to the Moon, finally arrived and I have something to read this weekend. I hope that this recommended lister walks me through the sights and sounds of an American in Paris.
I haven’t felt moved by any other books in Paris since I listed to the audio version of “A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition” by Ernest Hemingway. I still imagine myself sitting his writing apartment in Paris trying to find one true sentence in all the noise of today’s world. Yes, I still think he should have stayed with his first wife. You may or may not be a fan but I would also recommend this audio version to anyone looking for something to listen to on their way to work or just relaxing at home.
I’ll let you know how I feel about my next read of expat life in Paris. Maybe my book list this year should consist of those authors who wander through new cities that don’t make you feel like their describing everything. When it comes to books about cities around the world, I want to feel like I’m there. I want to find that hidden cafe that no one else knows about. I want to walk up to a restaurant and sit down in the same chair, and give dirty looks to anyone who would dare take my seat. I want to wander through the hidden alleys until the city becomes my own.
Writing is about making a place of your own that small town, or in that over populated city. How can you make your novel feel like home to those who wander the book shelves? That’s all I have before I leave you to return to your pens.
My posts are Monday through Friday.
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Writer's Block Inc 