Come Geeking

I wouldn’t say I was a geek. But when I heard about an English literary event only a couple of hours from home, I was like a dog when its master holds up its lead and says, ‘Walkies!’

A writing workshop?

At a château?

In the Dordogne?

Wagging my (figurative) tail, I signed up for an afternoon focussing on memoir. And that’s how I found myself, on April Fool’s Day, at the beautiful Saint-Germain-des-Prés château, writing my life story alongside 15 other geeks writers.

The event was a collaboration between Manor & Maker, the business name chosen by château owners Sara and Stephen Cole, and an experienced memoir workshop leader called Catharine.

And the good news is that it’s not a one-off event.

The idea behind the Manor & Maker retreats is to provide a safe space where people can enjoy doing their favourite creative activity with like-minded people. As Stephen says: ‘If you geek out about something, come and geek with us.’

Our hosts welcomed us into their home with tea, coffee and biscuits, giving us the necessary sustenance for two hours of writing under Catharine’s guidance.

The 19th century château is charming, not just from the outside, but also in terms of the interior decoration with its wooden panelling and period furniture.

We were even invited to climb up the inside of the 16th century tower.

The top room was closed, a home for bats while it awaits renovation, but I preferred to imagine a young princess imprisoned inside, poised to let down her hair.

Fifteen of us sat around the dining table for the workshop. It was lovely to see familiar faces but also to meet lots of people with fascinating life stories to write.

Through a series of exercises, debriefs and discussions, Catharine whetted our appetites to continue meeting and sharing work.

After a pause, during which Sara and Stephen treated us to delicious nibbles and wine while we got to know each other, we were regaled with readings from memoir authors.

Susie Kelly read a moving extract from I wish I could say I was Sorry and a light-hearted flying anecdote from It’s a Mad World. Jackie Skingley read from High Heels and Beetle Crushers and gave us a sneak preview of the sequel, Burnt Eggs and Caviar. And Patrick Doherty read from his Irish memoir I am Patrick.

It was a convivial afternoon in a setting that’s perfectly adapted for group events. Sara and Stephen’s attention brought a warmth we wouldn’t have had in a village hall.

Given the excellent attendance at the workshop, Catharine is hoping to make it a monthly event, so if you live near Excideuil and are interested in writing your memoir, contact Manor & Maker.

I caught Sara and Stephen as they mingled, checking that everyone had everything they needed, and asked them a few questions about the inspiration behind their business and their decision to leave Canada and buy a castle in France.

Stephen is a painter and designer, while Sara is a historical clothes maker. Here’s a photo of them, costumed, in Venice (photo courtesy of Stephen Cole).

The couple have many artistic friends and loved the idea of bringing people together so they could comfortably be their best selves with others sharing the same passion.

But why France? Why a château?

‘It’s my parents’ fault,’ says Sara. ‘They were a pilot and flight attendant, which meant we travelled a lot. When I was 15, we stayed in a Loire château and I was impressed when the marquis swept into the castle wearing his cape. That moment stayed with me.’

Although they love Canada, they’d been talking about living in Europe for a decade. ‘In Toronto, it felt as if I was living to work,’ says Stephen. ‘The attitude in Europe is more about working to live. Also, we both love art and history. We wanted to be surrounded by them.’

They almost moved to the UK, but the idea of being able to drive to another country in the space of a few hours tipped them towards mainland Europe. ‘In Canada, you can drive 24 hours and still be in the same province,’ says Stephen.

Having searched the Limousin and Creuse for Sara’s dream castle, they found it in the Dordogne in 2020. ‘As soon as we opened the front door, we fell in love,’ says Stephen. By August 2021 they were living there – though Sara’s marquis hasn’t swept into the château yet.

Perhaps the marquis led to the idea of their inaugural Belle Epoch retreat, to be held in May. This will bring together costumers and artists for a weekend, the idea being that the artists paint costumed models while they stroll around the château grounds. Does this raise geek reactions in you? If so, contact Manor & Maker.

‘When designing clothes, it’s important to have the right garments for the right periods,’ says Stephen. ‘Clothes speak strongly about cultural differences throughout history. They’re a way to time travel.’

Costuming isn’t the only creative activity you’ll find at the château. Forthcoming retreats in 2023 include encaustic painting (painting with beeswax – a technique used by the ancient Egyptians); a Gourmet retreat with a Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef from Paris; a poetry course with talented poet Kate Rose; and an open writing residency, fondly referred to by Sara as ‘Ditch the Distractions’.

If you’re interested in participating in any of these – or if you have ideas for other creative retreats you’d like to see there, Sara and Stephen would be happy to hear from you on their Manor & Maker website or youtube channel, where they vlog regularly about life in their château.

But of course you need to be a geek to participate. And none of us are that, are we?

Behind the Women’s Voices

Every now and again, a dynamic person makes a gift of their time and energy to the writing community.

Such is the case for Sally Palmer, the driving force behind the Women’s Voices anthology of poetry, prose and artwork.

The aim of this initiative is to give a voice to women writing in south west France, no matter where they are on their writing journey. 

As soon as I heard about this inclusive concept, I fell in love with it. This wasn’t about judging the literary merit of a writer. It didn’t require writers to sell their souls to gain a publishing deal. It was about giving all writers the chance to say what they wanted to say.

The first anthology, entitled I’ve Got Something To Say, was published on 8 March 2020, coinciding with International Women’s Day.

The second anthology – I’ve Got Something MORE To Say – was launched on 26 June 2022 and was celebrated with a live event of drama, author readings from the anthology, music and art displays.

As I have a story in this second edition (Sketches), I decided it was the ideal opportunity to meet up with the friendly community of writers in France.

I hadn’t seen most of them for over two years and was desperate to return to this source of literary inspiration.

So I bought my train ticket, hitched a lift with the lovely Kate Rose and headed down to deepest Gers, where Sally kindly accommodated us (as well as poet Amanda Speed, another contributor) for the weekend.

Before the launch took place, Sally had already received over 150 pre-orders for the anthology, which is also available to buy on Amazon.

And what a display they made in the village hall of Ponsan-Soubiran, the venue for the afternoon event.

Instead of sharing a write-up of the launch, I thought you might prefer to hear Sally’s story about the Women’s Voices initiative. She answered my questions as we sat in her Gers home overlooking the misty Pyrenees mountains.

Q1: What inspired you to publish the first Women’s Voices collection?

I retired from my academic career in Early Childhood Studies in 2016 and started to spend more time in France. This meant a change from active engagement in my profession to being a ‘lady of leisure’. I worried that I would become one of those women who have nothing to say, that I’d become a voiceless woman. 

I was discussing this with my friend Ellen Rugen in a coffee shop one day in 2018. Ellen had already written and published several books. Our discussion led to the idea of us publishing a creative writing collection as a way of continuing to make our voices heard. This was a challenge for me, because although I’ve had many articles published in professional journals, I’m a novice in creative writing.  

We decided to offer this channel of communication to other women around us who might feel the same way. We set up a steering group of four women and on 8 March 2020 we succeeded in launching I’ve Got Something To Say. It took us about a year to produce and contained 20 contributors.

Q2: How did the second edition come about?

I only really wanted to do one book. But the result was a success and we considered continuing with a second edition.

There was no theme for the first edition. It focused on people’s personal experiences, which was fine, but if we were going to do a second edition, we wanted it to be different, more imaginative. Although I was concerned that having a theme might put people off, we came up with a bank of ideas. I liked the idea of synchronicity but we eventually voted for transition.

The theme must have been inspiring because we attracted 32 authors for the second edition, as well as work from artists. The artwork is important because it breaks up the poetry and prose – and of course the artists also have something to say.

Q3: I love the inclusive element of the anthology but it must have been hard to manage. How did you organise the project and produce work of such a high standard?

It was really important that we didn’t reject anyone’s work. The collection is about giving people a chance to say something, so if we’d rejected their work it would have been invalidating their voice. Instead, we gave editorial advice to make sure their words communicated what they wanted to say in the best possible way. 

Our steering group contained three women: myself, Anne Dickens and Molly Brotherton. We split the contributions into three groups to edit, and we also asked women outside the group to help with the proofreading.

In terms of communication, we used word of mouth and our Facebook group. The last launch included a choir as well as readings and it attracted 100 people. This time, we wanted a simple picnic and readings to reduce the organisational aspect. But the event grew and in the end we had theatrical representations, art displays, bookstalls and the singers Double G&T as well as author readings.

Q4: How did you choose the order of work in the anthology?

In the interest of equality, we used alphabetic order by author name in the first edition. For the second edition we used the titles to class the work in alphabetical order. 

Q5: What part did you find the hardest?

For me, the most worrying things are the errors. Despite all the proofreading, errors inevitably creep in. It’s heart-wrenching to hear that we’ve made a mistake in an author’s name, for example.

Q6: Will there be a third edition?

We’ve had some lovely feedback from people who were glad for the opportunity to express themselves. But I feel we’ve achieved what we wanted. I’m not planning to publish a third edition.

If someone else wants to publish a collection, that would be great. But they must do their own thing, in their own way, using their own voice. 

***

Many thanks to Sally and her team for creating the publication and organising the launch.

It was fantastic to see familiar faces again, to meet new people, to be entertained by music, art and drama (and to see people buying my books!). 

A special thanks to David, Sally’s husband, for the cooking, and to Kate, Amanda and Ellen for their inspiring company.

Both the first and second anthologies are available to buy on Amazon. Happy reading!

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Biography: Sally Palmer

Sally has been visiting France for the last thirty-seven years and has a house in the Gers. Since retiring from academia she has set up the Women’s Voices writing group to promote and share the writing talents of women living in south west France. Her own journey into the creative genre of writing is just beginning and she values time spent with her local writing group which has provided challenges and inspiration. She recently completed a Creative Writing Course and a Master Class on Storytelling. She avidly believes that all women have something to say and actively promotes this philosophy.

Women’s Voices Anthology Launch

Next weekend, women writers from the south west of France will be meeting to celebrate the launch of our new collection of poetry, short stories and artwork.

Written on the theme of ‘Transition’, the collection is entitled ‘I’ve got something more to say’. This is the second edition of the collection (the first, published in 2020, was called ‘I’ve got something to say’).

I’m looking forward to seeing new and familiar faces. I’m not looking forward so much to reading out ‘Sketches’, my contribution to the anthology.

If you’re in the area on Sunday 26 June, come and meet us. There will be books for sale.

After the event, the anthology will be available to buy from Amazon.

Creative Writing Workshop

I’m delighted to tell you that I’m leading a workshop at Le Texte Libre bookshop in Cognac on Wednesday 8 June from 4 to 6pm. It’s a Creative Writing Workshop in English, designed for French people aged 16+ and will be followed by a Q&A session in English from 6:15 to 7pm.

If you’re interested, or know someone who may be interested in attending, here are the posters with all the details. You’ll need to scroll down to see the whole poster.

writing-workshop-harriet-springbett-8-june-22Download

Free Writing Workshop

Have you ever written creatively in another language?

Several years ago I took part in a series of regular writing workshops in French. I was very nervous before the first one. My French is fine for everyday life and work but I was sure I’d never be able to write anything decent.

What I wrote during those workshops was pretty basic. But it wasn’t a waste of time. I discovered that taking part in them activated my creative mind. I wasn’t able to write flowery, detailed sentences of exquisite beauty (hey, I can’t even do that in English), but I could still build a structure, develop a voice and create something in my mind that I then expressed on paper. It was a great way to pare down to the essentials of what I wanted to show.

My experience in these workshops is one reason why I have offered to do a free creative writing workshop in English for French speakers. I’d like other people to discover the satisfaction of creating something in your mind and then seeing it on paper in another language.

courtesy of Le Texte Libre

The bookshop in Cognac, Le Texte Libre, will be hosting the writing workshop. They have also organised a Meet the Author session led by Christine Clamens afterwards.

If you like, you can simply come to this second part.

My two novels, Tree Magic and Tree Slayer, are already on sale at Le Texte Libre. I’m happy to do book signings – as long as you promise to ask easy questions and clap loudly at the end!

While I’m being silly, here’s a link to a short video I made for Le Texte Libre’s facebook page.

The event is being held on Saturday 16th January 2021 from 3-6pm. The workshop will run from 3 – 5pm, and the Question & Answer (Q&A) session will begin at 5:15pm and finish at 6pm.

You don’t have to be bilingual to take part in the workshop, but you do need to be able to write basic sentences in English. If you don’t want to write, why not come along to the Meet the Author session and practise listening & speaking in English?

Reservations will be necessary for the workshop part, since we can only have 12 participants. Of course there will be a lot more room for an audience at the Q&A afterwards. You can call Le Texte Libre on 05 45 32 20 52 to reserve or leave a message on their facebook page.

If you know of any non-native English speakers who may be interested, please let them know. Of course, native English speakers are also welcome. If you’ve never written anything before, this may be a good way to try.

Finally, if you’d like to know more about me and my books, you can listen to this radio interview at RCF Charente, which I did in October, or this youtube video with the CEO of Impress Books, my publisher, which dates from June.

Look after yourself, have a happy Christmas and I hope to see you on Saturday 16th January.

Tree Slayer meets the world

WARNING: this is a post all about Tree Slayer. It may send you to sleep…

At the end of October 2020, Tree Slayer went on tour with Love Books Group for a week, stopping at different reviewers’ websites.

Sometimes the hosts shared an extract, sometimes – if they’d had time to read the book – they shared a review, and other times they interviewed me.

Just before the tour, Jacqui at French Village Diaries read and reviewed Tree Slayer. You can find her full review here and her interview ‘France et Moi’ here. You’ll find some great questions and silly answers there.

I’m not going to bore you with all the reviews, but here is a selection of my favourites.

“I loved the continuation of Rainbow’s journey and the development of her gift, and also the introduction of a new character Eole who I thought was a great addition to the book.” Mandy_87

“As lyrically and magically written as the first book, we are given a beautiful and thought provoking adventure. We see Rainbow grow further as a character and watch as she faces further challenges and new unlikely friendships along the way.” Reader of Rivendell

“I recommend both books Tree Magic and Tree Slayer as you won’t find anything quite like this kind of unusual magic anywhere other than from the perfect imagination of Harriet Springbett.”  BookRead2Day

“Harriet’s writing is beautiful throughout and some of the parts of the story are quite thought provoking. This book is a young adult read, but just like Tree Magic it is a book anyone can enjoy. It is unique, perfect for nature lovers and a good way to escape reality for a little while.” Hannah May Book Reviews

“Harriet Springbett has a way of taking words, adding a touch of her own magic, and laying them on the page to form a lyrical prose which I thoroughly enjoyed.” Booky Charm

“I found the narrative imaginative, beautifully written and easy to visualise. Eole was a very interesting character and comes with his own personal backstory and journey. He added a good balance to the story opposite Rainbow.” Living In My Own Private Library

“This book is a really well crafted story, a perfect follow on from Tree Magic, the same descriptive writing and strong characters. A compelling tale of magic and strength. Loved it. A great read.” Daisy Hollands

 “Harriet’s imagination is wonderful and these books are just small masterpieces created from her mind. And yes, they’re worth the read!!” The B00kreader

If you have already ordered and perhaps read Tree Slayer, thank you very much! The size of a readership determines whether a publisher is willing to invest in an author or not – i.e. publish their next book – so sales are obviously important to me. I hope you enjoyed it – if so, please let me know.

If you haven’t read Tree Slayer, you may like to order it from the new internet platform for independent booksellers at uk.bookshop.org. On this platform you can decide which independent bookshop receives a percentage of your purchase – and you still pay the same price as you would on Amazon. I love this idea of supporting your favourite bookshops while still having the advantages of ordering online.

Within uk.bookshop.org I have set up a shopfront. If you order books via my shopfront, I will get a small percentage of any purchases you make. This is a new system so I’ll be testing it for a while.

It’s also available from any independent bookshop in the UK, including Blackwell’s (as you can see in this picture on p58 of their Christmas catalogue).

For readers in France, you can order both Tree Magic and Tree Slayer from Le Texte Libre in Cognac and Bradley’s Bookshop in Bordeaux. During the lockdown, both shops are delivering orders.

Another way of helping authors is to order their books from your library. We receive a tiny payment (about 6p) each time our book is taken out of a library. So you can see why I’d be grateful if you could ask your library to stock both Tree Magic and Tree Slayer. Then you can read the books without having to buy them!

Finally, I can’t emphasize enough the importance of leaving a comment on Amazon and / or Goodreads, and of sharing posts on Social Media about the books you’ve enjoyed.

A comment only needs to be a single sentence saying (hopefully) that you enjoyed the book and giving it a generous number of stars! The more comments a book receives, the more visibility it has on Amazon.

Thank you, as ever, for your support.

This is the end of my post, so you can wake up again now!

Day 8: Hide and Seek with Bears and Boys

Writing Residency Day 9 (last day *sobs*) – June 2017

I understand now why mountainy people get up early:

1^st photo: from my room at 7:30 am.

2^nd photo: from the office window 7:35 am.

3^rd photo: from my room again at 7:45 am.

So what does a writer do on the last day of a writing residency at Arras-en-Lavedan?

Easy: instead of doing one research trek, the keen writer does two. Especially when it’s so misty that there is zero visibility at the top of the mountain.

The first trek took me to the Col d’Arras, where I was sure I’d be able to find a path onto what looked like summer pastures under the Pic d’Arragnat. I wanted to know whether Eole, my protagonist, was hanging around up there.

Perhaps he was. But with heavy bracken vegetation and little grass, I didn’t think it was likely. OK, I admit I wasn’t very persistent. Nor would you be if you heard a kind of growly-barky roar in the bushes and you were very much alone on the mountain.

I hot-footed it back down the non-path, got lost, panicked, struggled over a barbed wire fence and landed on my butt in the mud. I felt much better on the other side of the fence, despite the ripped trousers, and even a bit silly. After all, I could easily have defended myself with my swiss army knife. Couldn’t I? That’s what the bloke in the shop said, anyway.

(Don’t tell my sisters about this: they already split their sides laughing the time, aged 10, I was chased by a herd of cows and ended up clinging to a pole in the middle of a field).

As I write this, I’m listening to brown bear noises on Youtube, and I must admit that the noise is exactly what I heard. Though I guess that’s like looking up illnesses on the Internet to check your symptoms.

On the subject of bears in the Pyrenees, the original race of Pyrenean brown bear died out and Slovenian brown bears were introduced in the 1990s. In 2016 there were 39 bears, of which 2 in – omigod – this area… perhaps its just as well I’m leaving tomorrow! And, reading on through my informative source, if you come face-to-face with a bear you should retreat progressively. Not panic and run. Oh dear.

My Col d’Arras mission had aborted but, happily unaware of the real possibility of meeting a bear, I decided to attack the mountain from further along. There was definitely a path from Arcizans-Dessus up to the Col de Liar, and it passed straight through the said pastures.

Arcizans-Dessus is a tiny village that hugs the flank of a mountain – and boasts 22 watermills. Here are a few of them, lining the Anisaous stream and looking like a Pyrenean version of a housing estate. Some of the cute mills have been restored as cottages, while one serves as a demonstration mill.

The photo below resumes my morning’s research.

It took me an hour and a half of walking up steep z-bends to reach the silent, deserted Col de Liar. I did hear the eerie ring of bells through the mist on my way up, and there was a cold bonfire spot in the flat land at the top – but there was no sign of Eole and his sheep.

At least I determined that what looked like lush green pastureland from a distance was actually bracken (animals don’t eat bracken), so I guess that’s why this land isn’t grazed.

Coming back down, I was struck by a change in the mist. High up, its cold fingers creep down your back, soak your hair and drip dewdrops onto your eyelashes. But lower down it feels warm and steamy, like a Turkish bath, and the sappy, green tang of bracken gives way to the sweet aroma of elderflower. I’ve never experienced this with mist before – so my morning wasn’t a total waste of time, after all.

Back in the village I visited the church (Eole’s mum is dead religious) and found this guy sitting outside looking at MY mountain. He was made by Pedro Frémy, who also made the village carousel I mentioned in Day 6’s post as well as the other metal beasties around the Maison des Arts. Cute, eh?

Finally, I went to Le Kairn for my 5pm talk about my novel Tree Magic. Once again, I had to struggle through the crowd to get inside (actually, there was a crowd, but they weren’t interested in me).

It was lovely to catch up with my Lumineuse writing group friend Min, and I was delighted to see Bob from Laguépie, who I met at the Parisot Festilitt last year, and who had driven for 5 hours to see me.

Maybe they’d heard I’d be serving Pineau after the talk?

Pineau is the traditional aperitif in the Cognac area, and I’d brought a bottle for a farewell drink with all the lovely people who have hosted and befriended me this week: Françoise Gourvès, stained-glass artist extraordinaire and also my host at the Maison des Arts; multi-talented Karine from Le Kairn; Dominique Gainza with the strong, cheese-stirring arm muscles from the Val d’Azun sheep&goat farm; and Véronique the costume queen.

Many thanks to you all, and also to those who couldn’t make it: Alex from the mairie & Maison des Arts, Pascal Gainza, Valentine from Le Kairn, Caroline the costume-maker, Charles the Mayor and all the individuals who answered my (sometimes strange) questions.

And thanks to you who have followed these writing residency blog posts and those of you who came to my talks.

I’ll calm down now, and go back to my monthly posting habit.

Bye-bye, Arras-en-Lavedan. I’ll be back to say hello (with more bottles of Pineau) before too long.

Day 6: Stories of Art and Legend

Writing Residency Day 6 – June 2017

This was my view when I opened my shutters today. I almost jumped out of the window, I was so desperate to get outside and melt into the mountains.

But first I’d been invited on a guided visit of the contemporary art circuit in Arras with Alex, the cultural specialist at the mairie.

He was doing a special tour for Manoell Bouillet, who is going to use the circuit as a basis for a children’s writing workshop. This is an activity I’d love to offer, one day, so I was intrigued to see how Manoell built her project.

I’m a fan of guided visits, as I explained in my blog post Can I Waste Your Time?. At first sight, the exhibits in the village are pleasant to spot, but it’s not until you listen to a tour guide that you really look at and appreciate them. Unfortunately for non-French speakers, Alex doesn’t do the visits in English.

The theme of the circuit is the village’s heritage, and it is designed to make us think about what we have inherited – and what heritage we’re leaving future generations.

The visit began at the garden beside Le Kairn, which is NOT a private garden belonging to the bistro-bookshop. There are two exhibits here, and you can enter freely.

The first is a favourite with children. This pedal-powered ‘Carousel of Legends’ was created from scrap metal by local artist Pedro Frémy in collaboration with Richard Rewers. Richard is one of the members of La Machine, which is famous for its huge metallic animals that tour festivals in France and is based in Nantes.

Alex brought the legends to life with his storytelling. The Lake Isaby snake and Le Bécut (Cyclops) come from traditional Pyrenean legends, while the Ferme Andriu goat comes from a village legend. All of them feature local geography and monsters, and can be traced back to glaciation and the dangers of the mountains.

It’s interesting to see how legends change over time, each storyteller interpreting and modernising the story so that it appeals to new audiences. This is a form of living heritage, and Manoell had ideas of using Chinese Whispers in her workshop to demonstrate this point.

The next landmark is one you can’t miss: a marmot pushing (or retaining?) a rounded granite rock on top of a hillock, surrounded by circular beds of fruit bushes. You definitely need a guide to understand that this exhibit is all about what belongs in the valley and how long we should live in a place before we can consider we belong.

Let me explain. The hillock is a drop of water falling into a lake and the circular gardens and ramps are the ripples that emanate from it.

The marmot is a popular symbol of the Pyrenees – yet it isn’t indigenous; it was brought in from The Alps. Likewise, the Val d’Azun is largely limestone. The lumps of granite we can find – such as the Pierre du Balandrau in Argelès-Gazost – are erratics, dropped by the glacier when it retreated.

The Val d’Azun is a hanging valley, and was once under 600m of ice. And did you know that the Lac de Lourdes is the furthest glacial lake from this glacier?

Both the marmot and granite are ‘foreigners’ in the valley, yet they are so integrated that they’re often chosen to represent it. There’s a lesson there!

The visit continued along the route of the black signs. These 26 signs, in black and pink (pink is the extension in the lower part of the village) draw your attention, via a quiz, to diverse landmarks in the village.

If you are disappointed because some don’t highlight the most aesthetic features, this is a normal reaction. It’s deliberate. We’re being encouraged to look at objects we don’t normally notice, such as fences and old TV aerials. These pollutants are part of the heritage we’re leaving future generations.

I won’t describe all the exhibits, but I liked ‘Birth of the Globes’. These three works were created by three different artists on the theme of how man continues Nature’s work. We’re talking about buildings, here, which is why the materials used are wood, stone and clay. If you do the guided visit, ask Alex how the tree and the granite stone arrived here.

The visit finished at the labyrinth outside the church, where I learnt about some original uses of labyrinths in France.

One use was for people to take a meditative walk to the centre (there were no dead ends) and prepare themselves spiritually to meet God before entering church.

Another type of labyrinth was used by the Compagnons du Devoir (an organisation for developing manual skills, dating from the Middle Ages), who used a labyrinth to check the people entering a site. The bona fide workers would pass through in minutes, while imposters would be lost in the dead ends.

Many labyrinths have been destroyed – and the purpose of this one is to make us think about the heritage we don’t pass onto future generations.

It was great fun to work with Alex and Manoell. As we walked, we brainstormed ideas for exploiting the exhibits to create fun and meaningful writing exercises for kids. I’d love to participate in one of her workshops.

After such a thought-provoking morning I headed up to the Col des Bordères – the site of Pascal Gainza’s summer pastures – and took a delightful stroll with my protagonist Eole.

 

We went up to the Pic de Predoucet, where I spent the afternoon writing, mountain-spotting and watching clouds sneak in from backstage and dress the peaks…

…Which reminded me of costume designers Véronique Strub and Caroline back at the Maison des Arts. Now they’ve got rid of the two dead birds they found in the storeroom they’re busy with their pencils and mannequins.

But more about that tomorrow.

Day 5: In Pastures High

Writing Residency Day 5 – June 2017

Today I risked my life for my protagonist.

I would have been perfectly happy to sit and write at my desk all day, looking at the shy mountain from my window.

That’s what I did do until lunchtime. Then my protagonist – let’s call him, say, Eole – woke up. He’s a teenager, which explains the late rising.

“Let’s go climb,” he said. “Got to check on the sheep.” (EDIT for reblog Sept 2020: No. No, no no. Eole wouldn’t say that at all. Never mind.)

It was nice to have some active company rather than the usual passive paper characters. My boots had dried out, the sun was kind of shining in parts of the valley and I had promised him we’d go out together today.

So off we went in the car to Aucun, then up the hairpin bends to the Col du Couraduque (1367m).

Eole’s weekend task is to check on the family’s flock of ewes, which graze up on the mountain pastures above the treeline from June to September. He has to check their feet, spray antiseptic on any cuts etc., and if any are hobbling too much he brings them back down to the valley.

I was relieved to discover that mountain roads are far less scary when you’re driving than when you’re a passenger. (I was in tears last year when my partner drove us between the Col du Soulor and the Col d’Aubisque in a thick mist. As passenger, I was on the steep slope side of the road, which fell into swirling white nothingness. And he was going far too fast at 30kmh).

I parked at the Col, and Eole and I walked towards the rocky ridge.

“Just forget I’m here,” I said as I followed him up the path.

I think that was my error. Because – unusually for a teenager – he did exactly what I suggested.

Why is it that teenagers walk at the same speed as grandparents when they’re in town, but as soon as they’re on a mountain they race up it?

I was trying to take photos – so that we would remember the scenery when we’re back in Cognac and Eole returns to his passive state on paper – which meant I was much slower than him.

On and on Eole walked, higher and higher into the pastures until we found his sheep, grazing in a loose group and clanging their bells as they walked (yes, I know those are cows in the photo…).

To begin with, all was well. Eole threw himself down in the springy, heathy grass and gazed upwards, while I admired the flowers, insects, hoofprints – anything that was firmly on the ground. Above us, clouds skimmed the rocky heights, and he seemed fascinated by them.

But the sheep kept wandering off and climbing higher. Eole followed. I followed Eole, taking pictures and jotting down notes as I went.

At one point I saw the following sign: ‘Passages Délicats’, which translates as ‘dangerous paths’.

Last time I saw this sign, I nearly lost my daughter (flesh and blood, not a story character) down the side of a mountain, so you can imagine I was a little nervous. I mean, Eole wasn’t exactly going to throw me a rope or call the emergency services if I had an accident, was he? And there was nobody else about.

I suggested we could perhaps take the forest variant, but he just shrugged and jerked his head to the unperturbed sheep. “No grass in the woods.”

So on we went, me looking nervously down at the steep drop to one side and Eole looking up at the sky.

I was just getting used to it when we arrived at a ridge, a rocky crête, and there were suddenly two steep drops.

By now we were pretty high, and I noticed some birds of prey circling. A helpful information sign lower down had mentioned that Griffon vultures fed on dead animals up here, so this wasn’t reassuring either. All it would take was a slipping foot as I crouched to photograph a butterfly.

At which point I slipped

And rolled

A little.

Grabbed grass

And very quickly came to a standstill.

 

Strangely, I felt better after this. I threw myself down (well, lowered myself gently) into a safe-ish position and followed Eole’s example of looking up and around instead of down.

The view was stunning. I tried to remember the names the old man (see my previous post Spying and Lying) had given me and pin them on the peaks. There’s a quality to the silence – when combined with the cold, thin air and the view – that tastes of freedom.

I started to understand why Eole likes it up here; why he’s the one in his family who deals with the sheep all summer.

But I think there’s an additional reason why Eole comes up here. I think he has a secret.

Anyway, I let Eole do his stuff with the sheep, and, as I watched him, I realised that he needs a sheepdog.

The clouds were blackening, so I left Eole up there with his sheep and made my way down, having agreed to meet him tomorrow afternoon in a different pasture with a different flock of sheep.

Back at the Maison des Arts a plastic bag was waiting on the doormat outside the door. A present? For me? I picked it up.

Inside were two freshly dead birds.

I flicked through my knowledge of French superstitions and witchcraft, to no avail. Puzzled, I left them there and opened the door.

A lady was waiting on the stairs.

“Hello,” I said.

But she didn’t reply.

Well, she wouldn’t, would she? Not without a head.

Upstairs, three of her comrades were huddled together by my door: naked, beautiful – and also headless.

There’ll be no sleepwalking for me tonight.

***

Thank you for reading right down to here. I’d just like to remind you that I write fiction, so there’s no need to take everything in this post as being 100% true…

Day 4: Spying and Lying

Writing Residency Day 4 – June 2017

I wonder if people in the village noticed the way I hung around today, scribbling in my notebook and taking photos of strange things like the grill on the road?

Perhaps the old man I said hello to was suspicious. Perhaps that’s why he came out and pretended to be weeding while I was taking a panoramic photo from his front gate – though it’s hardly my fault that my protagonist is going to live in his house (not the one in the picture, I hasten to add).

Luckily I had my map. Maps are useful for times when people are unlikely to understand the link between research and peering in through windows to take photographs. I think I convinced him I was lost… And actually I learnt he was born in the valley and knew the names of all the mountains. And he also told me loads of useful stuff about sheep.

Yes, today was calm, which meant that after a morning of writing I let myself slip into my protagonist costume and go for a walk around the village of Arras.

There’s an art circuit where you have to find what features in the landscape the silhouettes on the signs depict, and my protagonist thought he’d take a photo of one for you.

Outside, I discovered the mist had lifted from the valley and the sun was coming out. I had water in my bag, boots on my feet, a map in my hand and a swiss army knife in my pocket. (The swiss army knife was in case I saw the bear).

So it was no surprise that my protagonist found himself walking up to the top of the nearest mountain instead of around the village. The tops of mountains are much more his type of thing.

I say mountain but, at just 1097m, the Mont de Gez is really a hill. It was playing at being a mountain while all the real, rocky mountains were being snooty with their heads in the clouds. There’s a gorgeous view from the top: you can see valleys heading off in all directions. A group of dancers in a previous residency created a stunning video set there.

On my way home, I popped into Le Kairn, where I managed to get a photo of Karine. For once she was actually sitting down, relaxing – well, testing new recipes (read ‘eating lunch’ there). So here is the lovely lady! You may recognise her from one of the many mountain refuges she’s worked in.

Back at the Maison des Arts, I was surprised to find the doors wide open and the exhibition rooms empty.

Had thieves broken in? I hoped the man weeding hadn’t given the police a description of me.

Then I remembered: it was the final day for Raphaël’s photos and Roxane’s ceramics displays: tomorrow, Véronique Strub is moving in with her Dracula costumes.

Which means, I suppose, that I may bump into headless, half dressed vampires in my museum if I happen to go sleepwalking.

Never mind. It will be worth it if I can see how costume-makers work, in which case I’ll talk more about Véronique and her project later this week.

In the evening I watched the clouds lift as I wrote, and it wasn’t until night had fallen that I remembered my walk around the village.

Hoping the man wasn’t still out weeding, I picked up my camera and went out on a night expedition (with my swiss army knife).

I may not be courageous enough to spend a night alone at the Col des Bordères, with Pascal’s sheep and cows, but the village was another matter.

And this is what I saw: cool, huh? An owl and THE EYE!!!

Now it’s time for bed. Tomorrow I’m going to brave those hairpin bends and crazy French drivers and hit the heights (which is what my protagonist does the minute he can).

Goodnight, sleep well.