PARIS, MY SWEET by Amy Thomas


paris-my-sweet

Complete with a cover that’s pure eye candy (I must admit that the cover is why I first bought it,) this little memoir is vivid. Amy Thomas painted the city and people in it so I could feel a breeze on my face, or smell the Nutella crepe that she described with such enthusiasm.

It also opened my eyes to a truth we often forget: There is such a thing as adventure in the world. Often, you just have to venture far in order to find it–and we like our comfort zones too much. We deny this, and complain later about how our lives are so boring. Stories appear out of nowhere like wisps of smoke (or in this case, the warm steam of perfect hot chocolate,) but you won’t see them unless you’re looking. Give something up, and only then will your heart be light enough to travel.

Amy did, indeed, sacrifice much to go on her adventure to Paris; with all its bubbly cheer, the book tells us she went through nostalgia and loneliness. Missing her family, having very few friends, regret–there’s always going to be that glance over your shoulder, hesitation to close the door behind you. I appreciate the author mentioning these very human emotions, so I could better relate.

Her writing style is conversational and easy to follow, at times resembling a blog post (after all, she is a blogger.) Inserting the words in French here and there gave it just the right dash of color, not so blinding that you could not see, but bold enough that you wanted to look. The cultures and how they differ were painted well, a plus for those of us who have never been there. Certainly, every person’s impression of Paris will be different,. That’s what books are for–to take us there.

There were only a few downsides, and they don’t even really count as such. In the blurbs where Amy recommended restaurants in Paris and New York, I felt a little resentful reading them and knowing I’ll probably never get to visit (the key word here being probably.) Also, the ending was rather abrupt–for some reason, it took me a few seconds to realize I was staring at the last paragraph. Somehow she managed to make the ending not an ending, in a good way–after the initial shock had faded, I realized the last chapter left us on an optimistic high.

I am very pleased with this book, and how she took me with her to Paris, describing her adventure in a very warm and personal manner. It made me excited for life, and hopefully someday I can experience the City of Light as well.

meeting Faith


Yesterday I met Faith, a lovely fellow blogger who has been my pen pal for years. I have a drawer full of snail mail letters, and we’ve known each other for a long time, but even though we live in the same state–we’d never met before!

We went to a Starbucks at the grocery store and talked about things that it usually takes a writer to understand. I think the person at the table next to us was giving us strange looks. Editing was a dominant topic, then bad books and Rick Riordan, and I think we talked about characters cussing and hair dying…it was epic and totally random.

Every time I meet a friend who’s also a writer, I notice how different we are. We see the world in a deeper way; those doors to the unknown? We’ll go to all lengths to open them.

I appreciate my other friends who don’t write as well, but…it’s just different. They wouldn’t care about a lot of this stuff. They’d probably get bored hearing me go into a rant about my novel. Which is okay–when I say rant, I mean it. I can go on and on, then feel bad because I’m doing all the talking and the listener is too nice to admit I’m boring them.

If you can sit down, listen, and actually be interested–then you’re just awesome.

It’s a blessing to be able to meet all these people. I definitely have some of the greatest friends!