… and shortly about to graduate onto tearing my hair out. I’m juggling getting the International Club of Bordeaux’s monthly newsletter, The Grapevine, ready to go out next week (with practice it’ll be a doddle but as this is only the second issue there’s a lot of glitches to be sorted out) with preparing my speech for the Parisot Literary Festival this weekend. And if that wasn’t enough there’s Life getting in the way too- walking the dogs, food shopping, talking to friends when they ring up,
doing the housework, finding a set of keys my daughter left behind and posting them to her Collissimo…
It’s at this stage of blind panic that I’m starting to wonder why I ever agreed to appear at the Literary Festival – believe me I’ve been wondering ever since I was asked why they wanted me. The other authors appearing are much better known than I am but at least I’m on last. I think (hope) most people will have gone home by then.
I said at the beginning of last year that I was going to start pushing myself. I’ve certainly done that here but actually I’m rather looking forward to it. The idea of the speech terrifies me, I used to give short seminars as part of my job but that was a long time ago and there’s a lurking fear that I might have lost the knack. Let’s be honest here, in the middle of the night it’s more of an absolute certainty. Even so I’m thoroughly enjoying myself doing the planning and the festival itself (apart from my contribution) sounds as if it’s going to be terrific. I’m getting to meet a couple of authors whose work I really like and also meet Vanessa whom I’ve only known through blogging (she’s pretty busy herself right now), stay with someone who runs a creative writing group (lots of picking of brains planned there), get taken out to dinner and it’s all in a really pretty part of France that I love.
What’s not to like about all of that? Apart from my bit of course?