Duras, France

I'm really rubbish at recording everything!
We'll start over yet again.
Recently we spent four days in France with Gill and his parents. It was terrific fun and Gill’s parents are lovely.
First we went to Gouffre de Proumeyssac, an enormous cave where I touched water that was meant to give me good luck. It seems I am collecting cave luck.

Then we went canoeing on the Dordogne river. I was dreadful. I never knew how hard it was for two people to move a boat. Gill seemed ok, but I was rubbish. I have no idea about oars and water currents. But that meant I got to sit back and look around while Gill did the hard work. Occasionally he was kind enough to let me ‘help’, but each time I took us somewhere we didn’t want to be and I was forced to relinquish my oars.

Then Gill and I were capsized by some teenage French ruffians. I didn’t mind until I realised that my beloved Vic Market sunglasses had been washed away. The dreadful youths stalked us for a while, splashing us a few times (like it mattered by then) before gesturing that we should follow them to the bank. I certainly didn’t want to be stranded with them amongst the bushes so I spoke sternly in English about how unimpressed I was before Gill and I (I helped damn it!) paddled away.

The next day we went to a market. I loved it. I bought two scarves, and Gill gallantly bought me new sunglasses. We also had some of the tastiest cheese ever. I wanted to buy a big straw bag, but the whole ‘one carry-on bag per person’ on flights would have stuffed me around.

On the final day we went to Château de Duras. I love castles almost as much as I love caves. We made the dizzying climb up the tower and were rewarded by some of the best views we’ve ever seen. Now I have castle envy.
We sat down to a crazy ghost show, only it was all in French so while I’m sure it was very good, it was a little hard to be scared.

To sum up, the people here are much nicer than at St Jean Pied de Port. The countryside is very beautiful and the food can certainly be amazing. I think that I will make one more trip to France, in order to see Paris, but then I’ll focus on other parts around Europe. I just don’t love France the way I love Ireland. It’s a bold statement, but the Irish just seem much more friendly.

24 July 2009 - My very first rejection letter

Whoo me! About three weeks ago I finally finished my novel! Hurrah!

I had my first three chapters exactly how I wanted them, and I had a synopsis and introductory letter. And I sent it to my first UK agent.

I settled back, prepping myself for the worst. And in under week it came (a week! I thought agents took months???)

I got a form letter telling me that the agency is taking on ‘extremely few new clients’ and ‘please do persevere’. Then the letter tried to flog me a book by one of their directors on presenting work to publishers and agents. It’s bad to get rejected. It’s worse when an agency tries to sell you something in the same breath.

Still, I’m in the game now and I suppose that’s what matters. I’ll learn as I play and hopefully get good enough to finally land something. I realise now that I have a few hurdles to overcome if I’m going to make my novel any good.

Number one is that I have to let people read it. But not just any people. I’ll start off with Gill and see how that goes. I have no idea why I’m so precious about this. It was the same with my thesis. I guarded it like it was made of gold.

Number two. I have to buy an absurd amount of envelopes, stamps, printer ink and paper. This is going to be a long and costly process. It’s not fun and games. It’s a job and as such, I need office supplies.

Number three sees me becoming battle hardened and grizzly from all the rejections. I quite like that idea actually.

Number four is that when I get home, I am going to take a writing class. I can obviously put in the hard yards, and I think I can carry a plot, but it would be good to get some real help from someone who doesn’t know me.

In an attempt to rally my fragile self-esteem, I looked up some authors that had also been rejected. Two of my favourites were in there.

Ray Bradbury. I loved Fahrenheit 451. Apparently he had over 1000 rejections. And then there was George Orwell. The man himself. Animal Farm was rejected. I couldn’t believe it.
That made me feel good. So good that while I will continue to send out my first novel, tomorrow evening I shall start on my next one.

The best city in the world is... Dublin.

I’ve been lazy with this blog. Very very lazy.
I’d better start from my first post-Spain trip.
16/5/09
It came about in an odd way. £2 flights from either Ryan Air or EasyJet (they’re both the same to me), so Gill and I decided we would book a flight somewhere and actually do some travelling. We weren't keen on anything in particular so we chose Dublin. Actually, Gill chose and I reluctantly agreed.
Dublin was amazing. Everyone was kind and cheerful – even the airport staff! We had a tremendous time wandering around the beautiful streets. Most things are walking distance, so we hoofed about from attraction to attraction.
I am pleased to say that I had my first Guinness in the Guinness factory – and I loved it. In fact, the whole Guinness factory tour was great fun, even though at the time I was NOT a beer drinker. Then we went on a tour of Dublin Castle. The tour guide was terrific fun and told us some excellent and cheeky stories.
At my insistence we also went to the Carmelite Church in Whitefriar Street to visit what may be the remains of St Valentine. These remains were given to the church from Pope Gregory XVI. Rome also claims to have him, so who knows. Apparently this church is a place of pilgrimage for those celebrating love. I was certainly celebrating how I had managed to fall in love with Dublin. If I ever get the chance it would be wonderful to stay there for longer and really explore properly.
All in all, Dublin is now my favourite city. I was only there for two days, but it won me over in about two minutes. And this is despite the fact that the rain bucketed down, held off a minute, then poured again. It’s almost a treat to see all the Dubliners walking about without umbrellas, getting soaked because (as a very funny busker announced to the world) they are so stubborn they are determined not to let the rain dictate their movements.
On another quick note, the National Gallery of Ireland was wonderful. The Taking of Christ was so beautiful I found it hard to leave. I know it is the nature of art to move and evolve, but I don’t think I’ve seen any modern art that has taken my breath away quite like that.