It is winter. Christmas Eve 2011, and Writer Guy rides the train to Arles. Second class. The South of France trundles by outside, salt flats and olive trees, the mountainside and harbor towns of the Mediterranean coast. I sip my Coca-Cola Lite and return to my laptop.
For in France the writing flows, as fast as the sweeping wind is vicious. I plan a collection, short stories set in different French locales, and the first idea has begun to spill out.
It is about a guy in Provence. On a train. In winter.
Such is my premise. Six words nearly bring the Coca-Cola Lite out my nose: “France Is Continue reading Behind: “The Carcassonne Dream”