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Confession of a melting pot écririen

A écririen is someone who believes himself a writer. Or who wants to be. Here: desire. A verb, not action. It stops there: no realization on the part of écririen. A écririen, then that person, rather than to start writing now, he said: "When I am retired, I'm a writer! ". Synonym: an idiot. A coward. A show-off. But it's also someone (and I do, I think) who knows have a certain talent and have already proved, but which is not always (or even not often) inhabited by the urgency to write, and that result does not write. "It becomes a writer by writing that" we always told my teacher ( I have already mentioned, but what do you, we too will the fact is that many times in class). So it is not writing that one becomes écririen, I added here to support my scholarly definition.
Do not take my inaction literary and creative for a lack of good will! Every day, I dragged my bag in a very nice malleable blue book, whose cover rubber covered with little hearts and blue pages devoid of boring lines have everything to please the aspiring writer. That is certainly something to give a good kick in the ass écririen in me, I said to myself by paying the few dollars required. My romantic mind had said, then surely the inspiration hit harder (bang!) if I blithely scribbled pages azure rather than typing on a keyboard stupidly cold and white screen by setting a sizzling (for exaggeration example, the screen of my mac is really all there is more stable and sexy).
But precisely, this blue book everything tidy which was to come my hello, it scared me. As if I was unworthy to sully my inking uncertain. That fact that I deliberately defaced, want to make it look less new, less ... arrogant. It was, in a sense, the expected result: I do not feel bad to write nonsense. Predictable but unfortunate consequence: I am writing, in fact, nonsense. Thus, imagining, ashamed of the toes to ears, reread my lines clumsy, I write more. This summer, I am a écririen chip. I'm a "writing vain."

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summer

Oh la la ... I want you as entertainer of beautiful and exciting long messages-slash-literary! You dream over the words ... Post funny pictures where my face is not to his advantage ... I feel like writing! I quote my teacher: "In writing that one learns to write." Exactly ... is of novels, short stories that I want to write you. I have lots of ideas!

I see a man walking on the desert campus. He limps a funny way. It takes me a desire to describe his approach very carefully, in a page. Not easy.

I think an erotic novel, and I poetizes. I create images: the girl's mouth as deep as the night. It's almost beautiful.

At the hotel where I am replacing, I prepare a book of short stories involving scabrous receptionists and maids: one wears an arm torn and sutured, and a pretext for aggression dog. Yet the window of the basement is broken and the injury to his arm does not look like a bite. Another daughter is schizophrenic and nymphomaniac. It brings the guys at the hotel and sleep with them in empty rooms, and then again without changing the bed sheets covered sperm. Two women hate about a shady history involving a client, and each has a very different story: that belief?

Me not steal my ideas here! I can show you the brain-stormer consistently. Because my notes to me are pretty chaotic ...

***

I'm gone spend four days in St-Armand. We happily got out of Quebec under a beautiful sun, and it is with sadness that we left the Montérégie in the rain. Weather morale, say Facebook. Chez Papa-Maman, a French course occupies in my room. That fact that Tom and I were dealing that of Jobe. Jobe and inherited the futon in the living room. Those who know my house know that sleeping in the middle of our show is as funny as sleeping without a tent in the middle of a freeway, mosquitoes bonus. Fortunately for Jobe was that for one night, we set off again the day after his arrival.

***

It's summer! I have a stack of a dozen books waiting to be read for my sake. I had time to read two before my teacher sent me to the work plan for my summer courses. The holiday will not last long ... tomorrow, I plunge into the Franco-Acadian literature. In Program: 9 to read novels, three movies to see, four reflections of 3 pages, 10 pages of analysis, and an oral presentation. Mouaip ... Fortunately, that job is pretty dead (no pun flat) and I have time to read ...

***

And then you people? How are you? (This is probably my most ugly conclusion to life ...)

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A life in end-session

I was rereading some old publications of this blog and said to myself: "Calm down, it is time to revive this place words!" Because Facebook is still cool for photos, but it's not where I want to tell you my life.

My life ... In the final session, these words take a funny turn. "My Life" is a mix of procrastination useful (clean up the bathroom and classification of t-shirts by color along a gradient extensively studied), procrastination useless (see Facebook) and pitchage on Word for Word have A +, crossing fingers and hoping that magic exists.

And then, I want to welcome my little sister. His friends had gone to Peru, and not her. That fact that it has made his own trip to Quebec City. In the final session, to be visited by a Shopaholic is not always

ideal. And for bed is hard: after enjoying the sleep of the beast on the makeshift cot to finally work on an analysis of the figure of the woman in A hunter god, I slip in bed ready to enjoy a long night of recovery. But in the wee hours of the not-yet dawn, Shick decides she can not sleep. And it would really be better with me, to take all the room in my bed. And, besides, when I had the audacity to switch sides back to the vacuum and thus find myself sleeping face to face with Shick, I got a friendly "Get you, you stink the mouth " from the intruder. Ye.

And then ... The same charming, after getting me that we dined at the restaurant, asked to get a tan. The prom is coming. So we will sit under fluorescent lights, feeling hot and nice to relax at the end of the session, I thought. Result: sunburn crak in the breast. Pleasant. "Honey, no contact for a few days, stp ..." And then that evening, we decided to watch a movie, even if it does not finish before Shick and goes to bed early so I can return to the opposition between men and women in the novel Soucy. Except that, at 23h, when I want to stop the movie, there's baby who cries: "NO! It's the best movie I've seen in my life, stop the paaaaas!". And to diss shit '.

Well, then, in another vein ... y 'was launched Camels! Our baby journal, in gestation for two years, has finally emerged! Yay! We did a launch party at Fu Bar in Quebec City, and what a success! The Dean and his wife were there, along with three other teachers who support us fully. The wine was good, the music also, copies of the magazine went as hotcakes (well, they are not sold, it was free ... it has probably contributed to their success!). Finally, we could return to our concerns and quit school to read and proofread and review each piece to make sure everything is ok before you print ... And then there was even interviouvé! Text here: http://www.aufil.ulaval.ca/articles/dos-chameaux-16351.html

And on the picture: Me, Julie, Jeanne and Nicolas Elise, parents founders Camels (in Besides my love, Tom, who was not there for the photo).

I also want to start the invitation: the next issue, whose theme will be "a journey in and through literature" due out this fall. Feel free to submit texts or reflexive creations!

And then ... the session ends in joy and enthusiasm general! Tuesday, everything will be finished. Not the bacc ', of course: I have three courses to complete literature, and I have a certificate in creative writing to at the same time, but it will be okay.

Good end of the session, good spring, enjoy the sunshine and good weather!