Monthly Archives: January 2014

The Fiction Project: The Old French Cemetery

2013 was a pretty dry spell for me.  A very busy year in my professional life at the library, I seemed to suffer from writers block for my personal endeavors.

An aside:  I was at a party a couple months ago with a bunch of Blues dancers, and I met a couple who are freelance writers and bloggers.  The woman was upbeat and philosophical about what it means to work for yourself and how writing-for-a-living has the potential to turn writing into a chore– it becomes less freeing and enjoyable on occasion than writing-for-yourself.  Her boyfriend/significant other, who was admittedly recovering from a sinus infection or a cold, claimed without reservation that writer’s block does not exist.  “If you claim to have writer’s block, then you’re not a professional writer,” he declared.  After this proclamation, I dared not share my personal sense of being blocked– or the wince of pain that I felt at the derisive way he said “not a professional writer.”  Thankfully his girlfriend defended those of us with writer’s block.  It came down to whether you had a deadline and an assigned topic.  Even with those two things, being “blocked” might be just a sense that you were merely “going through the motions” or lacking an angle, not necessarily the inability to write any letters on a page.

So, whether this dry spell for me shows that I am “not a professional” or shows that my identity as a librarian is subsuming my truer, deeper, more wholistic self, I will leave that self-examination for another day.  In the meantime, and perhaps in evidence that I have not be as “dry” as I fear, I would like to share this project I submitted in November 2013 to the SketchBook Project for their first Fiction library.

The SketchBook Project is a traveling analog and digital library of little brown-covered sketchbooks submitted by people from all over the country, of all ages and ilks.  Their bookmobile stopped by my library last Spring, in fact.  I first heard about it from my brother who submitted a sketchbook filled with drawings in ink, pencil, and pastel.  I signed up for a “library card” and their listserv at their bookmobile last Spring and  that’s how I found out about the Fiction project.  I tried to channel Lynda Barry and think about being a child, making my own book, telling my own story without that “asshole at the bar” leaning over my shoulder to say “this sucks; this is a waste of time.”

It worked. Inspired by my husband’s 8-year-old cousin in Algeria and a real French colonial cemetery we visited in his hometown, I wrote a story about a  a little girl whose family lives on and tends a graveyard.  Enjoy.

Link to my fiction project book:

bookplate my brother made me.

Leave a comment

Filed under fiction, travel