In honour of my A+ in French ...

Today I went to pick up results of the French finals. I got an A+. Out of the four categories we were marked in, my highest mark was in writing, then reading (comprehension), then listening, then speaking.

To honour my A+ I'm posting the third and final part of the introduction to "Une Bouteille de Lucioles". The next time you hear what happens will be when you are reading the text for yourself on the fresh, sweet-smelling pages ... hot off the press.

Another snippet of my French novel

Continuing the reading of the introduction of my French novel: Une Bouteille de Lucioles (a work in progress).

This time instead of just uploading the audio file on its own (as I did for the first reading), I've uploaded it to Youtube with a still frame of a flower, which is like la peau de la vieille femme (the skin of the old woman).

Translation of yesterday's reading

To know another language is to have a second soul.

- Charlemagne, King of the Franks -
(742-814)

The book cover (for now)
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On the above book cover, I've stated my name as Elspeth Duncan. However, late last year the perfect French 'pen name' came to me. It's my middle name, Blanche (as the first name) ... and a particular French word which came to mind one day as my surname. This word/surname in itself is fascinating to me on different levels because of what it means and how it came about.

It doesn't resonate to write a French novel as Elspeth Duncan. Something just wasn't feeling right. So, when I start back writing Une Bouteille de Lucioles (A Bottle of Fireflies), I will change to my French pen name. I'm sure this will influence the energy, flow and direction of the novel.

Those who don't speak French didn't understand yesterday's reading of the first few paragraphs of the novel's introduction, so I'm providing a translation of it below. (N.B. you will see in the that I refer to it as 'the invitation' rather than 'the introduction').

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The invitation

I am going to write a novel in French. This will be a very simple book. No big words, no difficult phrases. French isn’t my mother tongue. I’ve been learning it for some months in evening classes at the University. The language which I’ve been speaking my whole life is English.

Maybe you’re wondering why I’m writing in French if it’s not my mother tongue. Would you believe me if I told you that I don’t have a choice? I must only write in French. You could say that I was given an order … or perhaps, an invitation; an invitation to discover something that I don’t know yet.

Perhaps all that I’m saying now sounds strange. I understand if you think this. I’ll explain the reason soon. But first, let me ask you something:

What do you think of dreams? Do you believe that a dream can tell you something important that changes your life?

I love to dream. Each night when I go to bed, I know that I will see a free film on the screen of my mind. A dream is a window that opens to a vision of another life which we can’t see during the day when our eyes are open and our senses are occupied by the bustling world.

I’m going to explain the reason for this novel.

It all began one night – last week Monday. I was dining with some friends at home, celebrating a birthday. We finished around eleven o’clock and everyone was happy. A delicious meal, good friends, good conversation, laughter … We couldn’t ask for more.

At one in the morning, after washing the dishes, I went to bed. Soon I was sleeping very peacefully, like a baby in the arms of her mother. As usual, I began to dream. I don’t recall all that I dreamed, but I remember very well the woman who came to me in this vision. I was with some friends, somewhere in a white room when she came. Even though there were ten of us in the room, she didn’t look at my friends at all. You could say they didn’t exist. For her, I was the only one. She approached me, slowly, like a cloud in the sky on a day when there isn’t much wind.

She was very old, with skin like a dying flower: fragile, wrinkled, pale. And her hair, long and wild, rested like a silver lining around her small, intense face.

In a way, I wasn’t surprised or afraid when I saw this stranger who, evidently, had come to meet me only. Something about this old woman was innocent and glowing, almost like a cloud of fireflies in a child’s bottle. And her eyes, green and deep like the sea, contained secrets, stories and something else that I couldn’t understand.

(Continued in the rest of the 'the invitation' before launching into the actual novel)

Ecoutez, s'il vous plaît. Je vais lire de mon roman Français.

Une bouteille de lucioles

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Mes amis ...

This is a short audio file (5 mins exactement) of me reading the first few paragraphs of the (first draft) introduction to my French novel: Une Bouteille de Lucioles (A Bottle of Fireflies) ... which I've mentioned plusieurs fois on this blog.

For those who don't know, I'm currently learning French in evening classes at UWI. One day late last year I was inspired to start writing this novel. I felt it would be a more interesting way of practising, learning and remembering French ... rather than just going along with what was in the text book used in the class. At first I was compelled by it and couldn't stop writing. Then other aspects of life gradually took over and I slowed down ... and haven't been that consistent lately. In fact I've not written anything in ages. As a result, I've only reached Chapter 2. Maybe doing this will stir me to continue.

Please keep in mind (especially those who are French or who speak it fluently :) ... the written words and my delivery of them here are not an exercise in 'perfection'. For now they are what they are and it is a 'casual' reading. My intention is simply to share a first draft snippet of mon roman with you. Peut-être il y aura des fautes ... and I admit that my French pronunciation/reading isn't that hot ... mais anyone who speaks French will understand, which is the important part.

Peut-être this will be an encouragement to anyone out there who thinks they need to be 'perfect' before doing something and sharing it with others. Please don't think so. We all start somewhere, growing as we go and, hopefully, feeling comfortable enough to share something of ourselves along the path of our evolution.

Ecoutez.


This week's Sunday Scribbling's topic is 'Language'

Resurrecting my French novel

2nd page of "Chapitre Deux" so far ...
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On Sunday I started back working on my French novel after having done nothing on it for the past month or two. My French on the whole was suffering from abandonment. As a result I was losing touch, losing interest, losing my vocabulary.

But ... starting back with the novel seems to be a good thing, like striking a new match and applying it to the coals, so to speak. The flames aren't flaring yet, but they're glowing. In order to learn and retain, my brain does best when it finds creative ways of applying and experiencing the learning material (rather than just having it on the pages of a text book). Hence the novel.

This is basically how I'm writing it ... whenever we do a new chapter in the textbook, with whatever new vocabulary there is, I include it in the next stage of the novel and allow it to guide the plot. I find that makes it easier to recall and retain the new vocabulary, because I remember the story and the words that I used to construct it. Having a visual mind, I remember how the French word looks on the page (of the novel, not the texbook) and, from the image of it, I remember what it meant when I wrote it.

I confirmed this last night in French class when we were looking at a copy of the front page of a French novel. The word éblouissant was in one of the titles and notre professeur asked us what we thought it meant. I remembered it instantly because I had used it in the novel. I remembered that at the time I had thought "This is my new favourite word". I couldn't remember what it meant until I visually saw where I had placed it in the novel and saw the scene unfold like something from a film:

... inside the big tent, the colourful circus lights, the transfixed audience and the clown coming onto the stage in her dazzling outfit.

"It means dazzling," I said to le professeur.

That's what I mean by remembering vocabulary visually through the novel.

I'm supposed to be reading something at Campus Literature Week (1st week of March). I agreed to do a reading without knowing what I would read! I don't have anything new that I've written/been writing other than my French novel ... so I think I'll read an English translation of a portion of it.

Learning from Mistakes

(Final French exams ce soir ... and that's all for French until next year, 3B)
Photo taken with iPhoto - hence reversed writing
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As quickly as I write some more of my French novel I send it to le professeur for him to read and correct whatever erreurs are there. Sometimes when I get back the submission I'm amazed at the pencil marks all over it. Sometimes less, sometimes more. They have to do with spelling, articles (male or female) and sentence construction that is particularly French (as opposed to English). Writing in French involves thinking in French - a whole new structure. It's like approaching 'life' in a whole new way, new patterns, new ways of thinking, being and communicating.

The pencil marks are more informative than daunting. I learn from the mistakes. Doesn't mean I won't make them again, as I've realised ...

In the context of this French novel, I am a small child, learning to walk and talk in a vast new world. I entered all gung ho - without thinking of whether it would be easy or difficult. As I write that, it reminds me of the opening two sentences of Chapitre Un:

La porte vaginale s’est ouverte et elle est entrée dans ce monde. Sa nouvelle vie commençait et elle était prête.

The vaginal door opened and she entered this world. Her new life was beginning and she was ready.

Inspiration in Cancellation

Altered screen shot of part of the introduction of mon roman.

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Hier in French le professeur told us that the Language Centre's Christmas concert/dinner has been cancelled because the person who was organising it is ill. So ... I won't get to read mon roman.

It would have been enjoyable to share some of it in that forum ... but I'm actually glad about the cancellation. I now have a great idea of what to do with my French novel once je suis finis. It is exciting and full of possibilities and I don't think it would have occurred to me had the Christmas concert not been canceled.

Albeit on a much smaller scale, this kind of reminds me of when I went to Canada in May last year to do a course in reflexology (which got canceled unexpectedly 2 or 3 days after my arrival) ... and I ended up receiving a totally different opportunity ... working on a film ... and having a greater overall experience (not only work, but play) than imagined. I was so glad the reflexology didn't happen.

The point I'm making is ... whether large or small, there's inspiration in cancellation. Be open to the great things that are waiting and wanting to happen in its aftermath.

My debut: reading some of my French novel

A photo I took in October - of small decorative lights on the trees during the Greenlight concert
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Today, by chance, I came across what is now one of my favourite French words: éblouissant -(e)

Not only does it sound good, but I love its meaning: "dazzling, staggeringly beautiful".

The French words that I come across and love (their sound and/or meaning) end up in my novel. E.g. When I came across the word "luciole" (firefly) it ended up not only in the novel, but it has a starring role as part of the novel's title.

My new éblouissante will go into the novel today and help to advance the story.

Ce soir (this evening) in French class it will be my turn to speak to the class again on a topic of interest to me. We each have to do that twice this term, for the aural part of our exams in Level 3A. Last time I showed Invisible, then (in French) spoke about the production process and the aftermath - the efforts to get the house built (which it now is).

Today I'll talk to them about mon roman (my novel), what inspired it, the process of writing it and I'll read a bit of it for them. This will also be a practice session of sorts. Whenever I write bits of the novel, I send them to my French teacher (who is French) and he makes whatever little corrections need to be made. His comments so far have been: "Excellent! Vraiment! Toutes les corrections ne sont que de détails!" (Excellent! Really! All the corrections are just details) ... and "Ouah!" (an expression of 'Wow!')

The Christmas party/concert for the Language Centre is coming up on 6th December and each class (French, German, Chinese, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, Hindi, etc) has to do something. Le professeur suggested that I read about five minutes of my novel (in French) and project the English onto a screen - possibly with images (since not everyone there will understand the French). He said it would be interesting, as "no student has ever decided to write a novel before."

Passionnant!

Mon roman français (my French novel)

To know another language is to have a second soul.

- Charlemagne, King of the Franks -
(742-814)
Text on book is backwards because of iPhoto.
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I bought my new French textbook yesterday for the Level 3A class I'm in now ... and guess what colour it is.

Speaking of 'French' and 'book' ... I am writing a novel (un roman) in French. I am compelled by it and have been working at it steadily since October 23rd when 'it all began to unfold' quite suddenly. It's like I didn't decide to do it. It decided to do me.

I don't know where this will lead, but that is the adventure of it. Writing in another language is interesting because, not being a 'master' of it, I don't have the ability to 'command' it (as with English). It commands me. New parts of my brain and consciousness kick in and I am swept along by a different current.

However, for the past two days I have been what one would ordinarily call 'stuck' ... i.e. I haven't written anything and don't 'know' what to write next. But, given the nature of the novel ... (a) I will not know what to write next until it reveals itself (b) I therefore don't see the moment of not-writing as being 'stuck'.

In a Kundalini yoga class, we follow each posture (where we 'tense' or use the body actively) with a short period of complete relaxation, to allow the energy generated through the preceding action to go where it needs to go in the body and be assimilated.

So ... I'm assimilating the energy of what has been written thus far in mon roman.

Similarly, in life ... if we relax and be patient and trusting in our 'slow' or seemingly 'stuck' and 'unknown' moments ... between periods of active doing and knowing ... instead of worrying about why 'nothing' is happening ... we would flow as and where we are meant to.

When things don't seem to be moving (physically), they still are ... energetically.