Month: January 2007

There’s a little something I want to tell you about, a little something that of course I’m delighted with. Wanna read about it?

A day in October 2006

18h00: A new mail in my mail-box. “Good day, I am a publisher for Hachette and Helene from ‘Mon Blog de Fille’ advised me to take a look at your blog. What I read there makes me think you could be the type of author we are looking for, for a new book collection. Should you be interested, please contact me.”

18h02: I’m hyperventilating.

18h03: I’m doing ‘choo-choo’ train breathing but it doesn’t go away. I’m going to die on the eve of my career as a writer, it’s really sad.

18h10: After several abdominal breathing exercises, a Lexomil and a glass of Calvados, I get a grip on myself.

18h15: I’ve just been contacted to write a book.

18h16: I want to marry Hélène.

18h18: I look at my kids playing in front of me. They are still ignorant of it but they are descendants of a writer. So much pressure on their frail shoulders and at the same time what a chance for them…

18h19: I announce to the man, with tears in my eyes, that I’m on the eve of an amazing career.

18h20: The man answers that if it’s the same drama as for the radio interview he’ll leave me right away.

18h23: I’ve been stricken by the obvious. I can’t be a writer and live in the 13^th arrondissement. I inform the man that I need a studio flat in Saint Germain Des Prés in order to isolate myself. It’s a matter of inspiration but also credibility. After seeing how stunned the man look, I pointed out that I would be surprised if Anna Gavalda was living above Tang Bros[1]. Hu!

18h30: I don’t know why but I feel I must go to the Flore right now, otherwise I’ll feel bad. I guess I’m learning the hard way.

19h00: Writer’s block is starting  to choke me.

19h12: Since they are screaming like slaughtered animals, I guess my children are more stressed by their empty plates.

19h14: I don’t think you can be a mother, spouse and writer at the same time.

19h16: The man confirms his doubts on me assuming the three jobs.

19h22: I realise with terror I’m willing to let go of my family for Hachette.

19h30: I decide to start writing the story of my life right now. I can feel I’m going to shake up the quiet world of edition.

20h00: I ask the man if he prefers San Fransisco or Nassau for our holidays.

20h30: The man reminds me I haven’t even written one line and we are two rents behind.

20h32: The man doubts Prix Femina [2] is lucrative enough to cross the Atlantic Ocean with 4 persons.

20h34: I don’t see why the four of us would go since we’ll have an English nanny at home to take care of the kids.

20h36: I explain it is primordial for our children to speak a perfect English, given that one day we’ll live in New York, in order to remain anonymous.

20h40: The man announces he won’t be able to take on his role as a father and as famous writer’s husband.

20h41: I have to make a concession to put a smile back on his face (for those who don’t know what ‘a concession’ is check this)

20h54: The man finds that finally writer suits me perfectly.

A few days later…

13h00: I run out of work and fly to the Mecca of Mecca: Hachette Livres’ head office.

13h30: Arrival at reception, seeing all those recently published books stirs me deeply. In a few months my baby will sit there too.

13h32: I hope the publisher will see no harm in my life story taking several volumes. I have so much to say, so many cry to let out…

13h35: I enter the office. The two publishers are lovely. I think they are impressed. Maybe more than me. It’s crazy the power writing has on normal people…

13h40: They speak about a new collection. I’m not really listening, I soak up the atmosphere of this place where renowned artists and their creative souls have wandered before me…

13h42: I hear the words “small books”, “girls”, “frivolous”.

13h43: I hear the word “Libido”.

13h44: I hear the words: “Spice up your relationship”, “insolence of tone”, “toning down”.

13h45: I understand I’m being asked to write a book about sex.

13h46: In one volume.

13h47: Fortunately, in fact.

13h48: Forget about the Flore and Saint Germain.

13h50: Right but sex is lucrative, I tell myself. Just check out Sonia and her ducks.

13h52: I say yes because there’s no other option.

13h54: I call the man to explain we can forget about the Flore. I explain I’m not going against my principles even if I’ve said yes. You can write about sex and be subtle. Besides, lots of great writers have started their career writing about sex. Régine Desforges for example.

13h56: The man says he finds it funny and is looking forward to experimenting the advice I will give. We giggle. And I almost sacrificed him on the alter of writing.

13h58: The man calls me back and warns me, if I mention that his penis is too small, he’ll kill me.

The END

Well, long story short, there you go. The information to keep in mind absolutely are:

1 – Hélène is the fairy I mentioned, the one who gave my blog’s address to Hachette and thanks to her I became in one afternoon Mrs Sex for Hachette. Thanks Mam!

2 – Hélène’s book will be out, in the same collection, on the 21st of February. It’s called  “Pas besoin de souffrir pour etre belle”[3] and it rocks.

3 – Pomme, is another angel and her book will be out on the same day and titled “ En finir avec les boulets et les empoisonneurs” [4]. It should interest a few of you, given there are drags… everywhere !

5 – My book, titled “Libido en berne ? Pimentez votre couple”[5], will be out later, on the 15^th of April.

6 – The collection is called “Nous ne sommes pas des courges”[6]. These small books are for women and aim to make us smile and think about futile and important subjects.

7 – The man doesn’t have a small penis, it was only to have a funny punch line.

8 – When you’ll be reading those lines, the longest post ever actually, sorry, I will most probably be dying beaten by a man with a huge penis.

Right, it’s a fairly open secret, that’s it, I’m a Miss. Miss Canalblog. And not ‘analblog’ as I inopportunely wrote to a friend yesterday. X rated articles start to go to my head, or a bit lower maybe. In short, there you go, this time it’s for sure, I am famous[1].Wooooooow… I can tell you, since nominations, I’m ecstatic. I’ve been through several states, close to Ohio. Wanna read about it?

A Tuesday at the end of January

14h00: I receive an email warning me I’m part of the three finalists for Miss Canalblog competition. I’m super surprised, it’s incredible, people visited my site and they voted me in without even me knowing.

14h01: Ok, I confess, one week ago I saw a classified ad on Canalblog’s website calling all volunteers to come forward to take part in the competition.

14h02: I answered to this ad.

14h03: Five times.

14h04: With my account number and a picture of me half-naked.

14h05: Nevertheless, I’m amongst the three finalists. When we were at least 2000 to apply.

14h07: Alright, 126.

14h12: I’m really happy to be nominated. It’s a victory in itself. For that matter, I don’t care if I am the winner. Wanting to win at any price is so vulgar, I think. It’s the taking part that counts. On top of that, other candidates seem really nice, so, them or me, same difference!

14h15: Actually, only taking part sucks big time.

14h17: “Mr. Organiser of Miss Canalblog competition. You don’t know me but please be informed that Ms X and Ms Y, two finalists of the competition, have weird habits and are allegedly using their blog for rather shady purposes. It would be a huge mistake to select them. Caroline from ‘Pensees de Ronde’[2], who, on the other hand is an extraordinary woman as well as an amazing lover.” Signature: An anonymous person who wants your own good.

14h18: Even if I want to win, I prefer not telling anyone about my nomination. That is so me. On one side I take part in this competition and on the other I hate being in the spotlight. I think that, actually, I want to keep this victory to myself. It will be my own private world.

14h34: Alright but modesty is like losing, it sucks. And it will earn me no vote.

14h36: “My dear readers, thanks to an incredible combination of factors, I’ve been nominated for a small unimportant competition. If you have five minutes, you can even vote for me.

PS: I’ll pay you.”

The next day

08h03: I start to realise little by little the weight of responsibilities meant by such a nomination. Being is a miss is something and I know I will have to represent a whole people without ever deceiving it. From today onwards, I will stay away from alcohol and all other vices. You have to know what you want. And I’ve ALWAYS wanted to be a miss.

09h00: The man wakes up with a huge huge… desire. He is all over me right away.

09h02: I explain it isn’t possible and I just kissed all vices goodbye.

09h03: I confirm to the man, blowjob too is a vice.

09h12: No but it’s true. Being a miss entails being chaste during the whole year after the election. By the way, when I’ll be on TV, I’ll say I’m single. I’m not ashamed of the man or my kids. But a miss must make people dream. And an almost married miss with 2 children is not the stuff of dreams.

09h12: The man says if I lie about the children, he’ll tell Geneviève de Fontenay [3] I sometimes give blowjobs.

09h23: I have to put my chastity aside for ten minutes in order to buy the man’s silence. Being a Miss is also about making concessions.

09h34: The man has me promise never to make any concession to Jean-Pierre Foucault [4].

10h00: I’m wondering if I already have a lot of votes.

10h02: When I think of my daughter, I tell myself I’ll give her a nice example of femininity.

10h05: On the other hand, it will be hard for her to rival perfection made woman. If I were a true perfect mum, I’d drop that whole question not to threaten her future blossoming.

10h07: Good thing is I’ve never pretended to be a perfect mother. Anyway life is a jungle. Protecting your children does not do them a favor, believe me.

A few days later…

Thursday

06h00: Verdict is given today. But I’ve been waiting for so long, I don’t give damn. No way I’m getting up earlier to check if I’ve won.

06h12: Oh well, 6h00, 8h00, it’s really close.

06h23: It’s amazing how I don’t care. To such an extent that I’m currently switching on my computer but I could do something completely different, given how relaxed I am.

06h24: If Internet doesn’t work within ten second I’ll make that fucking provider eat its modem.

06h25: Either I suffer from a start of Parkinson disease or I actually care.

06h26: It’s like Bac’s[5] results. I want and don’t want to check at the same time.

06h27: If I’m not elected, shame on me and all my descendants. I shouldn’t have told the 213 persons I know about this competition. Plus two millions blog readers. But I’m a big girl. If it’s not me, I’ll be just fine.

06h28: I can’t believe this. It’s incredible. Something crazy is happening to me. It’s as if Earth stopped turning. I’ve been elected. Victory is like a shoot of chocolate, damn it.

06h29: When I think about it, my two competitors were really nice indeed. And their blogs are as good as mine. Not far at least. I’m so sorry for them. For that matter, it makes my success a bit ridiculous. I could almost give them my title.

06h30: They can die.

Edit: More seriously, thank you for voting for me, thanks to Transs, who organized everything and who stayed hard-nosed about my bribing attempts and of course congratulation to ‘Mister’ Canalblog Judark. Last but not least, congratulations to my two competitors Emilie and Fred, whose blogs truly deserve a visit. Girls, I won’t give you my title but the thought is there.