Just a little prepping before it starts. On Saturday, I will land in Provence and open my mouth. I'll be there for a whole month. By the end of that time, there may well be no food left in Provence whatsoever. I'm not only going to open my mouth literally, but also literally. I'm going to write a book.Yes, yes, you've heard this all before. Some, who know me, have heard it from me. Others have heard it from other people like me. We all have a book inside us, said Hitchen, we just have to get it out (well, actually, he instructed us to leave it there...). This isn't the book, but it is going to be a book. I am committing myself to writing enough words on the same topic that are cohesive enough to put on pages that make some kind of sense together. Who knows, it might even be interesting.
After writing this blog for a year or so, and meeting other writers, I have realised there is a very important point that we must cross. We have to take ourselves seriously. It's time I started calling myself a writer. Sure, I may not be a very good one (yet), but I write enough every day, on this blog and elsewhere, to say it is my vocation. I sure as hell don't earn more money doing anything else. (Unless you count housewiving as a job).
Bloggers write a diary, something personal, or they write something they want others to read. As soon as we decide we are writing for others, that's where the line is crossed, and we also need to figure out why we are doing it. As much as bloggers love recognition and comments, finally it will come down to two things - money or fame. It doesn't have to be grand quantities of either, but there has to be something, or we just can't grow. I started this blog to practice writing, but I'd better call myself to action, otherwise it's all been a big ruddy waste of time.So, the book. It's going to be about a month in Provence, the things we do, and the things we eat. It might be funny (although I doubt I could keep that up under the pressure of that much cheese), it might be dreamy, it might be informative. It might be mainly photographs and recipes with a couple of wordy sighs and hungover poems. It might completely and utterly suck.
I'm going to be posting much of it right here as I go, so I would love your comments and advice. And any agents who think they may be able to drop out of the sky and get me a book deal, please feel free to contact me.
[email protected] ... I work for food.
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This has partly been been brought on by the lovely Radhina from Platetrotter, who have nominated me for storytelling in food. I'd in turn like to nominate for an award in food tales:
Ishita, a relatively new friend with a big big heart, writing at Ishita Unblogged
Holly, who is an great writer, possibly even a better editor, now that I know her in a writers group at Arabic Zeal
Sally, who's writing seems to bring me so close to her kitchen, I feel dusted in flour after reading her posts, from My Custard Pie
Arva from I Live in a Frying Pan, who turns a food caravan into dinner in a candlelit restaurant with a stand up comic for a partner with every review.
Tala, from Fork it over Dubai, who has just taken off to Paris and joined Le Cordon Bleu cookery school, and is keeping me enthralled with her tales each day
