DAVID BARRIE
Tuesday, 31st August 2010. On getting started.
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work we go. The first week of September, as school picks up again (la rentrée), marks the start of the business year in France when major projects are kicked-off and ambitious statements made about the year ahead. As business remains very quiet for my own little management consulting firm (true, I didn’t try very hard to hunt down any contracts over the summer, but as I scarcely set foot in Paris in the course of the last two months, I shouldn’t be too surprised at the result), it’s probably a good time to try to knock out the next Franck Guerin book.
I’ve been mulling it over for some time now. It all started with my thinking about how difficult it might prove to find a hyphenated title for the next one and then, paradoxically, being inspired by one that I came up with (“Loose-Limbed” – as the working titles for the two previous books – “Guêpière” and “Bleached” – didn’t make it into publication, it’ll be interesting to see if this one does). The idea is to write about a series of crimes involving the ballet company of the Opéra de Paris, which means I can use the Opera Garnier (the city’s magnificent 19th century opera house – not the late 20th century Opera Bastille) as a key location. Of course, I can’t claim to be a ballet aficionado, but since all the previous books involved Franck Guerin getting caught up in a field about which he initially knew nothing (lingerie, perfume), that’s scarcely an obstacle.
What is, it turns out, is my reluctance to lash myself to my PC and churn out 100 000 words, since I know it means months of unrelenting toil. I imagine there are people out there who enjoy the task of writing, of setting down a fresh layer of words every day and watching a novel rise from the ground before their very eyes. I can’t say I'm one. It’s much more fun to toy with the concept of a story than to actually produce it. Which is probably just as well: the market is already drowning in an excessive number of unwanted books (which, to judge by sales to date, probably includes my own); imagine what the situation would be like if writing was actually fun.
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work we go. The first week of September, as school picks up again (la rentrée), marks the start of the business year in France when major projects are kicked-off and ambitious statements made about the year ahead. As business remains very quiet for my own little management consulting firm (true, I didn’t try very hard to hunt down any contracts over the summer, but as I scarcely set foot in Paris in the course of the last two months, I shouldn’t be too surprised at the result), it’s probably a good time to try to knock out the next Franck Guerin book.
I’ve been mulling it over for some time now. It all started with my thinking about how difficult it might prove to find a hyphenated title for the next one and then, paradoxically, being inspired by one that I came up with (“Loose-Limbed” – as the working titles for the two previous books – “Guêpière” and “Bleached” – didn’t make it into publication, it’ll be interesting to see if this one does). The idea is to write about a series of crimes involving the ballet company of the Opéra de Paris, which means I can use the Opera Garnier (the city’s magnificent 19th century opera house – not the late 20th century Opera Bastille) as a key location. Of course, I can’t claim to be a ballet aficionado, but since all the previous books involved Franck Guerin getting caught up in a field about which he initially knew nothing (lingerie, perfume), that’s scarcely an obstacle.
What is, it turns out, is my reluctance to lash myself to my PC and churn out 100 000 words, since I know it means months of unrelenting toil. I imagine there are people out there who enjoy the task of writing, of setting down a fresh layer of words every day and watching a novel rise from the ground before their very eyes. I can’t say I'm one. It’s much more fun to toy with the concept of a story than to actually produce it. Which is probably just as well: the market is already drowning in an excessive number of unwanted books (which, to judge by sales to date, probably includes my own); imagine what the situation would be like if writing was actually fun.