When I was fourteen, I promised myself I would be a writer : I wanted to write plays and short stories; I had been writing little skits that we would stage later in the summer with friends or family members.
Later, at 16, I imagined I was a poet to translate the inner turmoils experienced by the teenagers unease in their skin.
Thereafter, I produced numerous texts free or rhymed, poems, even song lyrics, and in English too.
Writing has always been a natural process for me to express my mindset, my emotions, my anger, the questions I had, my trials and errors pr my happinesses.
And, if childhood dreams do not materialise as quickly as we want, they never really disappear and sometimes take byways to come back into our life stronger, with a power and an evidence impossible to resist.
I had an office job for 10 years, in the marketing field, in industries as diverse as energy, transmissions via satellite, automobile or IT. Even then a huge portion of my work consisted in writing, as I had to elaborate and write marketing strategies, newsletters, monographs or articles.
Later, I have created, scripted, and co-hosted a radio program interviewing various artists in the area of Grenoble, and organised an exhibition of modern iconographs from a Bulgarian artist. Among other things.
During that time,I kept on writing for myself.
In 2009, the co-writing with my husband of a techno-thriller became the turning point to reconnect with my old long-forgotten but not completely lots dream, buried under numerous sand thick layers of many things or pre-conceived ideas that for the greater part did not belong to me.
It was like when one opens the shutters and let the light flood the room. I knew by then that I could not let my dream fade and turn into dust.
Writing : the urgent call of emotions and life to chisel their stories through words and echoing in other readers.
I needed first to step into my identity as a writer, my essential, this true calling I had been longing for.
Upon my arrival in Houston in 2010, I tackle the task of writing a novel revolving around the expatriation and the identity crisis one can experience in the middle of the life.
I took me more than 3 years and a half to achieve it (“Quarantaine Blues” available on Amazon.com since May 2nd, 2015)
Between two chapters, to refresh my mind, I wrote more actively poems and a collection of short stories (published in Dec 2013, under the title “ The Balding Club and other short stories”), flash fictions or micro-screenplays fro contests in the UK.
Soon enough, I began to write a play and a corpus of poems about the first British expeditions on the Everest…
At that time, I also had written lyrics for a musical project about expatriation (“ Phileasine Foggette” and “ Le bocal” have been played in concert in Houston and in Paris).
After that, I started to regularly contribute with articles on cinema and TV series to the newsletter of Houston Accueil.
If I needed a sign that I was on the right path to give my dream a chance to blossom and to the intense sensatio of “fulfilment” that was growing within me, when I closed the door upon myself in my Tiffany-blue studio to embrace the writing process, two came my life in a very surprising way.
In August 2013, I won the 1st prize of Poetry (category French) of the David Burland International Poetry Prize (UK) for the poem “Rose de Matinik” about slaves in Martinique Island christened with the name of the boat which transported them, upon arrival in the island.
And in August 2014, I was awarded the same first prize for my poem “20 ans en Quatorze”, a tribute poem to my grandfather, soldier during WWI.
A last word, taken from the French musical Emilie Jolie “ Let the dream devour your life so that life does not devour your dream.”