Skip to main content

Off to Paris

For as long as I've been a writer I've desired to see Europe. There's an old idea that women have a biological clock for having children, I think that's true of writer's and visiting Europe.

From the moment I read Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, Paris is something I knew I needed to see for myself and tomorrow I'm leaving on a plane to experience it for three weeks. I'll be largely disconnected to that time. I'm using the next three weeks to write a book and collect material for another, as well as drink in every sight I can imagine.

Paris is interesting to me as a filmmaker, too. I'm wondering what's caught the eye of so many of my favorite filmmakers and why they chose to set films in Paris.

I have no illusions about what Paris is. I know it's not going to be the Paris I read about at Hemingway's pen. I won't run into F. Scott Fitzgerald like Woody Allen would have me believe. It's not the old, charming city that Moulin Rouge told me it might be. No, I imagine it's like any other bustling, modern city, but with a little more character. Approaching it in that spirit, I'm hoping I can find enough there to inspire me and show me something different.

It's important, I think, as a writer, to seek out new experiences and this adventure is certainly going to be new.

When I return, I'll be putting the finishing touches on my forthcoming book, The Serpent's Head, which will be available in time for Origins.

I've got so much more going on, too, that I'm very excited to share with you. Erin Kubinek has been hard at work illustrating our presidential assassination book and it's looking fantastic. I've finished another manuscript and hope to finish yet another in Paris. Over the next couple of months I have more than a few pieces coming out in magazines and short stories in anthologies.

For all of those who read this space, this writing trip to Paris is a direct result of your support in my writing, and I thank you all for it. You've rewarded me with the enthusiasm about my work to keep me going and purchased enough books to send me. I won't forget that.

2013 is going to be the best year yet for me, and if you happen to like what I do, I think you're in for a treat, too.

(To keep up with me while I'm in Paris, I might be on Twitter and Instagram. Look me up: @swankmotron)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Missed Opportunities of Days Gone By

“Hello?” I said into the phone, accepting the call from a number I didn’t recognize. “Hey,” the feminine voice on the other replied, as though I should know the sound of her voice. At a loss, I said, “Can I help you?” “It’s Brooke.” Her name stopped me. It couldn’t possibly be her. We hadn’t spoken in years, a decade perhaps. “Brooke?” “Yeah, Brooke Baker. This is Mark, right?” Jesus Christ. It was her. “Yeah, it is Mark. Brooke. Wow. How are you? It’s been a long time since… well… since anything.” “I know.” “So, how are you doing?” “Okay, I suppose…” Her voice belied her words, though. Something was up. “I… It’s just been so long and I guess I wanted to hear your voice.” “I don’t think I had a number for you. Ever. I offered a couple of times, but…” “I was a brat back then.” And that’s how a random phone call turned into a two-and-a-half hour catch-up session. We spoke of everything under the sun: people we still knew, how different we were, h

Anatomy of a Scene: The Third Man

It's time again to break down a classic scene. One that's well-written and, in my view, a fine example of excellent craft. I've done some of these articles from books (like The End of the Affair   and Starship Troopers ) and other movies (like Citizen Kane , City Lights , Raiders of the Lost Ark , and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid ), but now it's time to take a look at a scene from The Third Man . It blends the best of Orson Welles (as he's in the film and drives this scene) and Graham Greene, who wrote this particular screenplay. Before we get to the scene, we need some context. The Third Man is a tale of the black market in Vienna, just after World War II. It's about a cheap, dime-store Western novelist named Holly Martins (played by Joseph Cotton) and his friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles.) Lime offered Martins a job in Vienna, so Martins leaves America and arrives, only to find that Harry Lime is dead. Penniless, without a friend or reason to be

Anatomy of a Scene: All the President's Men

All the President's Men is one of those perfect movies. Based on a stunning true story with a brilliant screenplay from William Goldman (we've already gone through one of his scenes here with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid ), it's a movie that brings all of the elements of character, plot, and drama together in a way that makes me really love and admire it.  The scene I want to go through is one that comes during a particularly trying time in the film. For those unaware, this film tells the tale of Woodward and Bernstein, the Washington Post reporters who cracked the Watergate story. And now, looking back on it, it all feels like one big victory, but it was marked by a number of defeats.  This is them reporting to their skeptical editor, Ben Bradlee (played brilliantly by Jason Robards) about where their investigation is at. Immediately preceding Woodward and Bernstein walking in, a salesman is trying to sell Bradlee on features his papers doe