Chocolate Chart

When I first joined grad school (I was like 10, yes I was, such a precocious genius), I attended a few seminars with someone who later became a friend, and then not (but that's another story, for another blog). And she told me in somewhat shocked tones, "gosh, well, I am a bit surprised. I thought you were rather frivolous when I fist met you."

Hmmmm....now I did like girly clothes and bright lipstick and cool, chunky jewelry. But frivolous? Really? I processed that in my 20-something brain and filed it away, not sure how to respond except with a rather idiotic grin and a quick subject change.

Then, earlier this year I spent three weeks at the Chateau de Lavigny, we had a public reading mid-way through the session. There were five of us and we had a great time that evening, discovering each other's work in a more public setting and supporting each other. It was awesome. One of the writers while making a toast at dinner that evening said a lot of complimentary things and then added, looking at me, "And you...I never realized you were do deep."

There have been at least 12 years between these two comments but they stick in my mind as book-ends. And no, I was not insulted or unhappy, just bemused. I mean I can't really police how people perceive me or perceive my writing for that matter. And perhaps, because I write of such darkness, it's not so bad if I am perceived as being sort of surfacey (is that word?).

It gets more complicated when I come against that other perception of me, as being either remote and somewhat snobbish or quiet and shy, even retiring. I know that I am a very situational person, so I probably come across as different to different people.

And how do I feel at being perceived as shallow or frivolous? I don't know. I guess I'd rather be that than an in your face deep person who makes people run for cover. I find juvenile humor funny (including the scatalogical), I still like bright lipstick and chunky jewelry though I am older than I was in grad school.

Perhaps it validates my desire to be a woman of mystery. Perhaps I am like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get...well, unless you can read and just refer to the chocolate chart on the box. Do I want a chocolate chart for myself?

I guess I really don't mind any of these perceptions. Once someone gets to know me, the chart gets more muddled I am sure, but these initial perceptions do remain. You know what? I may not be a girl any more but I do love girly things, I adore pink and cute puppies. But I also wear a lot of black, can laugh helplesly at fart jokes, and look with more than my share of cynicism at most things and yes, write of the dark nature of things. In fact, I start light-hearted stories and they take a left turn somewhere, and it again becomes a tale of sadness or molestation or rape or death or murder or something uplifting like the messy end of relationships. Cheery no? Perhaps my different parts balance me...like one perfect nut encased within caramel, enrobed in rich chocolate.

Damn! Now I gotta go find some chocky for myself. How frivolously girly is that? Ta ta!

Other photographs from the Lavigny experience

Some people are getting thoroughly sick of my Lavigny fixation: "Chateau, chateau, chateau." Yes, I am getting as annoying as Jan's "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia." And I am at a low-point if I am using annoying 70's TV shows as a reference point. Damn those Bradys!

But I can't help it. I feel like I've crawled out from inside a cloud. I found a place to grieve, a place to write, a place to be absolutely and totally bonkers thanks to the Lavigny Five.

I don't use names when blogging about others (that darned pesky invasion of privacy thing) so I just want to thank my comrades-in-arms and co-crew, LM, A, J, and T. It was great to spend these three weeks with you and we should totally do it again. And, so with a promise (I might be being a bit rash here) not to inflict the chateau on you again, here are some other pics from Lavigny.

Sometimes a Door is Just a Door: Vufflens Chateau


The Last Evening in the Garden



The Garden



The Horse That Launched Many a Book

Day 16 to the last day (Day 20)

View from study into bedroom


Tomorrow we leave this enchanted place. Despite my best intentions I didn't blog every day. There were two good reasons:

1) The Internet connection can be very slow some days, making blogging impossible.

2) Hellooo! I was here to write, not to blog (okay, so blogging is writing but you know what I mean, right?)

So...ta daaaa....the most exciting thing was that two days ago I completed the first draft of my new novel. As always there was this empty feeling but now I am revved up to edit, re-write, re-hash, but at least it's done. And that's what I primarily wanted to accomplish at Lavigny.

I am sitting in my study on this beautiful day. There is a lovely breeze and I am thinking about my three weeks here.

From the trepidation at the beginning to bonding with the other four (and I mean, bonding)...to a wrenching feeling at thought of leaving.

This is my room, my view, my roses...my chateau! How can others be here? In my place?

But all enchantments must come to an end, and tomorrow I head back to Geneva and to real life.

Adieu, Chateau de Lavigny!

Day 8 to Day 15 at Le Chateau

I've been remiss...starting off blogging about the chateau with a bang and then just dying off. But it's because things are going so well there. I am almost done with the new novel. Actually I wrote what I thought would be the final chapter today but then discovered that I would need to write another chapter to explain and expand on some other stuff. So, it's kind of finished...but not quite.

My goal is to write this final chapter tomorrow (I started it today), and then to spend the remaining time editing and re-writing and filling in gaps, etc. I want this second draft to be completed, hopefully by the time I leave, which is on the
23rd.

On the 15th we had the public reading and everybody was wonderful. The audience was amazing and so nice. All of them (at least 30 people I think) talked to all the writers and complimented us and engaged each of us in conversation. There were people from Geneva and Lausanne but also from Annecy, which is about 70km away. Quite a drive just to listen to us.

Our fivesome is becoming crazier and more insane as time goes by, which just adds to the fun. At lunch and dinner we have the best time. It's a madhouse and the right blend between serious writing and total fun.

As I enter the last week of our stay I find myself jealously guarding each day. As I look towards the mountains past the bowl of the lake, I smell the flowers and breathe in the air. Our enchanted time is coming to an end and then it's time for real life. With bills and cooking and shopping and phone calls and doorbells, and walking the dog (much as I miss my mutt).

And in less than a week the Chateau de Lavigny will become nothing more than a memory, a space in time that will remain with me forever.

Day 7 at Le Chateau

Yesterday marked our first week's end at the chateau and we met with lovely Egyptian author, Fawzia Assad. Apart from writing I went on an animal safari and discovered a strange animal in the backyard, close to where the pool used to be.



Sadly the pool has been long filled in and nothing remains but a faint outline. More than most humans leave behind when we leave. No depressed outline, no other sign of our departure. The wheel turns again and all is forgotten.

Day Five at Le Chateau

This was not really a day at the chateau as it was a day of going beyond, to explore our environs, and a celebration of a day without rain. So, four of us went to Morges to the Grand Marche.

There were ugly porcelain kittens and indeterminate objets d'art that only their creators could love, lace doilies and overpriced but beautiful Peruvian sweaters. And stalls with pizza, and sausages, and cheese, and olives and wine. And flowers, masses of flowers that glowed against the puddles that the week-long rains had deposited. Later, as we munched on hot churros, chinese dragons and strange giant dolls pranced in the street, accompanied by blonde young Swiss men and women, banging drums. I am sure the dragon and the strange dancing doll were Swiss too. Ah, this strange melding of cultures. The dragons,the dolls, the drum-bangers were all barefoot and I wondered how their soles did not freeze solid against the cold ground.

We returned to write, drink wine, be waited upon and to live the good life!


Grand Marche, Morges



Chinese/Swiss Dragon



Creepy Dancing Doll

Day Four at Le Chateau

This will be a short one. I went for a walk amidst the grapevines, and then ran my hand across stalks of young wheat. A red poppy grows in the field and it waves in the relentless wind.



The sky cleared today, marching across the sky, a canopy of bright blue unfurling behind it. The wind howls and whines but we are all happy that the rain has gone.

I sat on a low wall decorated with green moss, and saw past the trees, the distant lake. Like a sea of fog it is a mass of blue, like clouds from an airplane window. Tomorrow I will try and walk there.

Goodnight!

Lina in the Vineyard

This evening I saw a woman in the distance, in the vineyard.
Standing exactly in the middle of the rows,
precisely spaced like cornrows of a little girl in Harlem.
She stretched out to touch the sky, and then to touch the ground.
Brown, wet with rain, and rich with the minerals that make the grapes grow thick, and the wine flow sweet and fragrant.
She spread her arms wide. Like Jesus, embracing the world over Rio.

Later, I sat across from her at dinner.
Unknowing.
I watch the trapped late evening light amid the ruby sparkles in my glass
And told her what I saw.
It was me, she said. You saw me.
And I wondered what she saw.

Day Two at Le Chateau

I didn't sleep well and have a crick in my neck which proves that no matter how gorgeous the surroundings we can still toss and turn and be in a bad mood because damnit I like being able to turn my neck all the way. Oh well! Poor me.

Got some writing done last night but I am sure I'll be re-doing it. Also, I am totally stressing abou the reading on the 15th. If anyone wantsto come (18:00 till 20:00) on June 15, you are supposed to inform the chateau. Or let me know. Am I too old to be having the old going to school without my knickers dream?

On a totally unrelated note I regained control of my hotmail account but with much drama and with the assistance of a certain Jessica who corresponded with our unlucky Nigerian traveler.

Here's your chateau fix of the day:



View from the Back, Including Sunroom




I love this arbor and the giant tree next to it that is supposedly over 200 years old

Bonjour writers: Day One at the Chateau de Lavigny

Last evening I arrived at the Chateau de Lavigny to start a three-week writing residency. I plan to blog a little at least every day just in case you're really, really bored and need something to fall asleep. See how considerate I am? You're welcome.

But seriously, it is an amazing place and is totally suited to writing. Since it is a writing program and not a blogging program. I will write about the two people, Heinrich and Jane Redig-Rowohlt who transformed this three hundred year old chateau into a place that throbs with words and memories and creativity and life. They are no longer alive, but they are with the living if you know what I mean ;-).

Since it is a writing program and not a blogging one I must content myself with posting pictures for today instead of being my usually overly-verbose self. Enjoy!


Arriving at Le Chateau
In the Courtyard



Front View of the Chateau





Half-eaten Breakfast with a Full-on Gorgeous View from the Sunroom



Did I Mention the View I Had at Breakfast?


More later folks!