Writing in the Maison Bleue
Veteran writer Francine Costington joins six writers of all ages at the idyllic Maison Bleue. by the Canal du Midi.
Francine' own story - reaching right back to her girlhood in wartime France - unfolds among the every different stories of her companions. And she herself makes a special bond with nineteen year old Joe who a year ago was living in a homeless hostel.
Past tragedies and present dramas merge as their experiences at the Maison Bleue changes the lives of the writers and the Maison Bleue.
Story Summary
'You can't have rules for writers,' says crime-writer Ruthie Dancing. 'That would be like herding peacocks.' Ruthie suspects that her plan for a Writer's Retreat at the beautiful Maison Bleue on the banks of the Canal du Midi might be a monumental folly. There is conflict drama and even sex in this hothouse of writing, where the magic of the writing process rubs off on all the guests, bringing healing to some, injury to others, for one writer a great new start in life and for writer Francine Costington the space and time to write of her experiences as a girl in World War Two when she carried messages for the Resistance..
EXTRACT
Aurelie listens carefully, her smooth brow furrowing slightly. 'So these people stay in the house and just write their stories?' she says, clearly very puzzled. 'They just stay there and write?'
'Well.' Ruthie sits up very straight to defend her idea. 'They'll write and rest and perhaps just talk. They might also go walking, swimming, canoeing. Even shopping. But there'll definitely be writing and a lot of talk about writing. I once spent a month by a lake in Ireland at a retreat with writers and musicians. I saw a ghost there, tucked under the coverlet of my bed. I went out of my room, came back and she was gone. There was so much talk in that place.' Ruthie pauses, smiling slightly, remembering. 'One night we were still there at three in the morning, listening to two cellists playing against each other, like duelling banjos. It was amazing. And I wrote and wrote - half a novel there in a month.'
Aurelie claps her hands, her heavy silver rings clashing. 'Bravo! How wonderful. You must do this, Ruthie! You must have your retreat!'
Ruthie's shoulders sag. 'Not possible. Short of resources - and any real business sense if I'm honest. I like to write and I want to share this. But ... '
Now Aurelie frowns again, her face concentrating. 'I have it!' her fluting voice penetrates the gruff hum of the plane and the crackle of conversation from the other travellers. 'I have it, Ruthie.'
I'm puzzled. 'You have what?'
'I have the house! I have a house which I develop. Mon cher Serge and I, we take houses and make them good. So many poor old houses in our district waiting for our kind hands. Young people now in France like to build new. They scorn the old. You will have this house Ruthie. You will have this house for your retreats. For your writers and your writing....'
Ruthie is perplexed. 'So ... '
Aurelie puts a slim, manicured hand on Ruthie's arm. 'Your writers will retreat to my house, which is called Maison Bleue. This beautiful house sits on the banks of our wonderful Cana du Midi. You will make your fine retreat in my house. We will share the profits.'
'Profits? I don't know about profits.'
'Ruthie!' Aurelie says firmly. 'I assure you. There will be profits!'
...
Genre: Historical
Veteran writer Francine Costington joins six writers of all ages at the idyllic Maison Bleue. by the Canal du Midi.
Francine' own story - reaching right back to her girlhood in wartime France - unfolds among the every different stories of her companions. And she herself makes a special bond with nineteen year old Joe who a year ago was living in a homeless hostel.
Past tragedies and present dramas merge as their experiences at the Maison Bleue changes the lives of the writers and the Maison Bleue.
Story Summary
'You can't have rules for writers,' says crime-writer Ruthie Dancing. 'That would be like herding peacocks.' Ruthie suspects that her plan for a Writer's Retreat at the beautiful Maison Bleue on the banks of the Canal du Midi might be a monumental folly. There is conflict drama and even sex in this hothouse of writing, where the magic of the writing process rubs off on all the guests, bringing healing to some, injury to others, for one writer a great new start in life and for writer Francine Costington the space and time to write of her experiences as a girl in World War Two when she carried messages for the Resistance..
EXTRACT
Aurelie listens carefully, her smooth brow furrowing slightly. 'So these people stay in the house and just write their stories?' she says, clearly very puzzled. 'They just stay there and write?'
'Well.' Ruthie sits up very straight to defend her idea. 'They'll write and rest and perhaps just talk. They might also go walking, swimming, canoeing. Even shopping. But there'll definitely be writing and a lot of talk about writing. I once spent a month by a lake in Ireland at a retreat with writers and musicians. I saw a ghost there, tucked under the coverlet of my bed. I went out of my room, came back and she was gone. There was so much talk in that place.' Ruthie pauses, smiling slightly, remembering. 'One night we were still there at three in the morning, listening to two cellists playing against each other, like duelling banjos. It was amazing. And I wrote and wrote - half a novel there in a month.'
Aurelie claps her hands, her heavy silver rings clashing. 'Bravo! How wonderful. You must do this, Ruthie! You must have your retreat!'
Ruthie's shoulders sag. 'Not possible. Short of resources - and any real business sense if I'm honest. I like to write and I want to share this. But ... '
Now Aurelie frowns again, her face concentrating. 'I have it!' her fluting voice penetrates the gruff hum of the plane and the crackle of conversation from the other travellers. 'I have it, Ruthie.'
I'm puzzled. 'You have what?'
'I have the house! I have a house which I develop. Mon cher Serge and I, we take houses and make them good. So many poor old houses in our district waiting for our kind hands. Young people now in France like to build new. They scorn the old. You will have this house Ruthie. You will have this house for your retreats. For your writers and your writing....'
Ruthie is perplexed. 'So ... '
Aurelie puts a slim, manicured hand on Ruthie's arm. 'Your writers will retreat to my house, which is called Maison Bleue. This beautiful house sits on the banks of our wonderful Cana du Midi. You will make your fine retreat in my house. We will share the profits.'
'Profits? I don't know about profits.'
'Ruthie!' Aurelie says firmly. 'I assure you. There will be profits!'
...
Genre: Historical
Used availability for Wendy Robertson's Writing at the Maison Bleue