Small Streets, Tiny Windows

As I was looking through photographs from a trip to Provence last November, I found a rather interesting trend. In all of the towns we explored, Montaureux, Aix-En-Provence, Nice, Cannes, Avignon, Marseilles, I had taken numerous pictures of tiny, narrow streets. The sun creeping up one side and shadows, on the other, crawling down to the cobblestone path.

There is something I feel when I see a small street, a little room, slivers of windows, tables pressed together in charming village restaurants. It is intimate, comforting, dark, close. I always think to myself who goes there? They are always the kind of secrets I want to know...

Fix Me

On Sunday I had the privilege of seeing the Alvin Ailey Dance Ensemble do a performance of "Revelations". There was one section that I found so beautiful, I thought if there was a way I could bottle it up forever and keep it with me, I would. Fortunately, You Tube did it for me.

Blogs I Read: Day 6

That wraps up the week in: Blogs I Read.

Obviously, I read a lot of other blogs. Many of them are about the publishing industry and literature. A smaller portion are about children's media and food. I've learned SO much from SO many blogs about SO many things; particularly when it comes to the world of books and entering the 'business' of writing.

But I wanted to feature blogs that get to the heart of why we write and why we read. And I think I've captured a few of the things I look for when it comes to good story-telling: Craft, Character, Intrigue, and Place.

With all of us trying to absorb so much content on the internet day after day, I hope you find some inspiration in all the words you read.

The Lisle Inn

Last February, I posted my Ode to Small Towns and mentioned the town of Lisle:

It also reminded me how amazed I had always been driving up to Ithaca, NY revelling in the small town of Lisle on Rt. 79 which is completely run down with it's dilapidated, abandoned buildings on its tiny main street. And despite the vacant, grey vibe that town always gave me, I found it simply beautiful. It was fascinating that it could be so intimate and yet spacious and empty all at the same time.

Thanks to Lost City I learned a little bit more about why Lisle was in this condition: A series of floods back in the 30's and the movement of people down South as NY became too costly to do business in. I also learned that I am not the only one who had a soft spot in their heart for this place. But, most tragically, I learned that the Lisle Inn, which I always considered a landmark on my journey to and from Ithaca year after year, burnt down this past week.

The reason I bring it up is because one of the settings in my novel is actually based on the town of Lisle, so I feel I must pay homage to it. It amazes me that a town in such ruin was able to inspire me. So much so, that I was able to create an entire world for my characters to nestle inside of.

The Inn itself always stirred the imagination. Who lived there? Who kept it up? Who would have wanted to stay there? It always seemed the Inn represented a place that was holding on to a false hope. For someone to visit. Or return.

I think there are many stories about this place that are still left to be told...

I should eat more cheese...

I just returned (begrudgingly) from an 8 day trip to Southern France. I had been to the area once before, but it was a short trip to Nice where my friend Lynn and I quickly realized that the entire town was closed due to Easter Monday. The following day we spent at a tennis tournament in Monte Carlo and the third day we walked an empty, cold beach front in Cannes before skipping off to Barcelona (ah the life of a study abroad student with a 3 week spring break!)


This time around, I was fortunate enough to have some locals show me around. Tyler's Aunt and Uncle moved to a small village outside of Nice called Montauroux 10 years ago and they were kind enough to put us up and show us the area. We also spent 3 days in a university town called Aix-En-Provence, which was extremely charming. We took day trips to Cannes, Fayence, Nice, Cap Ferrat, Avignon, and Marseille. We drove around exquisite mountain ranges, toured vineyards with amazing backdrops of said mountain ranges, sat for long hours at cafes, and walked through charming, narrow, cobblestone streets. The food was terrific, each view was more beautiful and breathtaking than the next, and life was generally smooth and easy (besides abnormally small parking garages, manic drivers, and a bit of a language barrier.)


Things were different there, as you expect it to be in a foreign country, and I left with a simple thought: It's a different life. Sounds simple enough, pretty much a no-brainer, a 'duh' moment. But, I really wanted to think about what made it different. Sure, New York City doesn't have sunny weather year-round, nice beaches, picturesque mountain ranges with Alpes in the distance. It doesn't have farms and sheep and vineyards and olive trees. But these are obvious differences when you compare a concrete jungle to the Mediterranean. The most noticeable difference was really and truly the pace of life.






In France, life seemed to be enjoyed over a longer period of time. People sat in cafes sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes without thinking about who they were going to meet with next. People ate dinners without tapping their fingers wondering how fast the food would come or when they would get the bill. People worked knowing they would have 2 hours in the middle of the day to be with their friends and family. People opened bottles of wine, buttered croissants, and sliced cheese without thinking about calories.

Perhaps it was only because I happened to be enjoying a period of leisure that I thought everyone around me was too, but I constantly sensed that time was spent in a much more relaxed way. I, admittedly, found myself growing impatient with the pace of life. I found it difficult to embrace the crawling pace at which time moved. I didn't want to reject it but I often found it hard not to.


Taking this trip made me realize that there is always a choice with how we spend our time. It may seem like it is always out of our hands. That there are obligations that require us to spend our time the way we do: "I have to be at work at 9" "I have to pay my rent" "I have to support my family" "I have to meet this deadline" But we only have to because we've required ourselves to think that getting to work at 9 and meeting the deadline are the only ways to fulfill our obligations. There are other ways to spend our days and accomplish our goals and do the things we've required of ourselves by the choices we've made. Sometimes it takes a new perspective to see that.


As the year draws to a close and we start a new one, I don't want to reject that relaxed sense of time. I want to find a way to use it so that I am not always thinking about the next step, the next meal, the next person, the next big thing. I don't want to force my time forward so quickly and frenetically. I want to be able to sit for long periods of time and enjoy the things I'm meant to enjoy.


Like cheese.

Be your best self

"We must be ourselves, but we must be our best selves."
-Sarah Orne Jewett, in a letter to Willa Cather, ca. 1909

Thanks Dear Literary Ladies for the inspiration.

And thanks Willa Cather and Sarah Orne Jewett for writing books about strong women and nature. My favorite themes as a reader and writer :-)

What are some of your favorite themes to read or write about?

Julie, Julia, Melissa, Sally Tutu...the list goes on

Worst Blogger Ever!

Yes. I get the award. At least for (in)frequency of posts.

Well, today, lookee here, I'm blogging. So maybe the award is being ripped from my fingers by another infrequent blogger. Take it! Take it I say!

Today, I saw the movie Julie and Julia which I, of course, loved. Because it's about food. And cooking. And butter. And bread. And cheeeese. Among other things. And because it was about Julia Child who I love dearly.

It got me thinking about a lot of things. About a love of life and of food. And about finding out what you love to do and what makes you happy.

I was very unhappy at a previous job and I did not deal well with it. I became unbearable to be around, I cried AT work on more than 1 occassion, and I complained incessantly to my friends. I had convinced myself that what I did defined me. And I remember my dear friend Lynneth telling me, it's just a job, it's not who you are.

I am still unable to comprehend this. If I'm not doing something, I feel useless. If I'm not bettering myself in some way with how I spend my time, then I feel I'm not spending my time wisely. I once sat and watched a 4 hour marathon of Bridezilla on the WE channel and I hated myself for the next 4 hours.

Why is what I'm doing so tied to who I think I am and how I feel? I can not answer this. All I know is that Julia Child found a way to do what she loved and bring so much of herself into it. And Julie Powell had been inspired so much by this idea that she wrapped herself up in an insane project in order to figure out who she was and what she should be doing with her life.

So, I ask myself, is this what my novel is? An insane attempt at discovering who I am and what I should be doing with my time? I think perhaps it is. If so, well...then, bon appetit...