“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a movable feast.” – Ernest Hemingway, to a friend, 1950
How long counts as living?
I am delighted that I have been chosen to take part in a Paris Lit Up mini-writers residency in March and April of this year.
Paris Lit Up work to support artists by giving them a platform, a chance, a hope at grasping at the straw that is the opportunity to live. They say of themselves:
Paris Lit Up does not exist.* Or rather, Paris Lit Up isn’t any individual project or person. Paris Lit Up is the space between the independently run projects that trace its outline. Paris Lit Up shines as a constellation of these bright literary stars in the Parisian night. Paris Lit Up lives in the visible and invisible connections between these ventures and the groups that animate them. Paris Lit Up dwells somewhere deep inside each of these projects because they enrich and empower the people around them. Paris Lit Up aims to build this open community while nurturing the goodwill to collectively share and grow together. Paris Lit Up pulses through the rhizomes of shared practices, common spaces and cooperative spirit. Paris Lit Up explodes in the creative potential of the international literary scene in our beloved City of Lights, Paris.
I am going to be part of that explosion, I am going to be one of those lights that shine brightly.
While I am in Paris I will be performing, from my new book I Can’t Find Me and The Northern Line, and delivering a workshop in a bookshop. I will also have time to explore, meet other writers, have dinner, drink wine, and most importantly…write.
I am pleased, very pleased.
Writing takes you to the most magical places.