Another sample of prose from Writing at the Maison Bleue. It all started when Ruthie Dancing, a crime writer, met Aurelie leBrun on the place and they made a deal,
Ruthie
[...]
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| A doorway to new writing |
This idea of
a writing retreat had been running around in Ruthie Dancing’s head for years.
She had nearly pulled it off once, just after she finished working in the
prison, but then the idea aborted. She
did this quite often - trying an idea until it broke. She would say that it was
a bit like writing your way to half way through a novel and then abandoning it:
all part of the creative process.
(On the plane Ruthie tells completer stranger Aurelie leBrun about her dream of a retreat.)
[...]
Ruthie’s shoulders sag. ‘Not
possible. Short of resources - and any real business sense if I’m honest. I
like to write and I want to share this. But …’
Now Aurélie frowns again, her face concentrating. ‘I have it!’ her
fluting voice penetrates the gruff hum of the plane and the crackle of
conversation from the other travellers. ‘I have it, Ruthie.’
I’m puzzled. ‘You have what?’
‘I have the house! I have a
house which I develop. Mon cher Serge
and I, we take houses and make them good. So many poor old houses in our
district waiting for our kind hands. Young people now in France like to build new. They scorn the old. You will have
this house Ruthie. You will have this house for your retreats. For your writers
and your writing....’
Ruthie is perplexed. ‘So …’
Aurélie puts a slim, manicured hand on Ruthie’s arm. ‘Your writers
will retreat to my house, which is called Maison
Bleue. This beautiful house sits on the banks of our wonderful Cana du Midi. You will make your fine retreat in my house.
We will share the profits.’
‘Profits? I don’t know about profits.’
‘Ruthie!’ Aurélie says firmly. ‘I assure you. There will be profits!’
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| Old French wood and the ubiquitous turquoise |
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