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Nothing lasts
Last night I finished reading The African Farm. Marvellous book. A nice insight into colonized Kenya and its native world, back in the 20s.
Karen Blixen (aka Isak Dinesen, which is her pen name) spent 15 years of her life trying to grow coffee up in the Ngong Hills, at a stone's throw from Nairobi. 15 years of hardships tempered with moments of intense felicity. She returned to Denmark as she finally went bankrupt.
I enjoyed the book so much that I wished to know more about the writer, buying for the purpose an edition of her correspondence.
The following bit of text is an extract from the introduction :
On her return to Denmark she told a close friend that she was giving herself six months in which to find out whether or not she would be able to live the life she had now been allotted. And if she found it was impossible she would quietly make her exit from life. [...] In a letter to her brother Thomas Dinesen [...] she writes:
... it seems to me that it would in no way be terrible or sad if I [...] were now calmly to retire from life together with everything that I have loved here. [...] It may perhaps be just as hard for Mother to lose me as for me to lose Ngong; but when one comes to realize the whole nature of life, which is that nothing lasts, and that in that very fact lies some of its glory, the sadness of this is really not so terrible. To me it would seem the most natural thing to disappear with my world here, for it seems to me to be [...] vital parts of myself, and I do not know how much of me will survive losing it.
There were times when Karen Blixen could despair over her immediate circumstances and rage against fate, but her nature urged her to be a yea-sayer, no matter what life faced her with. She regarded her life with the eye of a painter, well aware that the dark shadows in the picture were quite essential as the light and the bright colors. Sorrows and adversities were as much a part of the pattern as the rare but never-to-be-forgotten spells of happiness that she had experienced; she may even perhaps have had a partly unconscious need of suffering, because she felt that more than anything else it could mature the artist in her.
My beloved Corto Maltese hanging in the staircase leading to our rooms
La traduction suivra très prochainement.
[No comments]- A ride
The more I listen to the news, the worse it gets. Genocides, murders, child abuses, rise of prices, corruption and so on. I'm tired of it. Tired. I feel like an old man who's been round the world and, sicken of it, finally decides to retreat on a remote estate where he would spend the rest of his days, growing his garden with passion and stupefying himself with wine.
Here, in our appartment, situated in a quiet area a little outside Vienne (40 km south of Lyons), I feel good. I realise that you don't need much to be happy. Sure I'd like to have more money. Who wouldn't? But what I already possess is enough to ensure felicity as I conceive it.
I have a job which offers perspective. A lovely wife. A bright kid. Another one who's "on the way". I have a well provided wine cellar. I have time to read. And I have time to write.
All I need now is a young mistress. You know, to give it a bit of spice.
The pics were taken on the way which leads to my in-laws. I like riding my motorbike, using tracks whenever I can. It instils a sense of freedom. And I must say, the surrounding countryside is pretty nice. Not like Italian Tuscany, of course, but pretty nice on the whole. When I stop amidst the fields, I'm always moved by the silence. Just the wind sweeping through the crops.
You see the sheep? T'was funny shooting them cose they seemed to deliberately turn their back on me.
Plus j'écoute les nouvelles et plus j'ai le sentiment que les choses dégénèrent. Génocides, meurtres, pédophilie, hausse des prix, corruption et ainsi de suite. Je suis fatigué d'entendre ça. Fatigué. Je me sens comme un vieil homme qui a fait le tour du monde et qui, dégoûté, désire acquérir une propriété isolée pour s'y retirer et finir ses jours à biner ses parterres, un verre de vin à la main.
Ici, dans notre appart situé un peu en dehors de Vienne (à 40 km au sud de Lyon), je me sens bien. Je réalise qu'il ne faut pas beaucoup pour être heureux. Bien sûr, j'aimerais avoir plus d'argent. Qui ne le souhaiterait pas ? Mais ce que je possède déjà est assez pour m'assurer la félicité.
J'ai un job qui m'offre des perspectives. Une épouse adorable et belle. Un gamin intelligent. Un autre qui est 'en cours'. Ma cave à vin est relativement bien fournie. J'ai du temps pour lire. J'ai du temps pour écrire.
Et j'envisage de prendre une maîtresse, histoire de pimenter les choses.
Les photos ont été prises sur la route que je prends en moto pour aller chez mes beaux-parents.
J'aime les chemins de campagne et je les emprunte à chaque fois que j'en ai l'occasion. J'éprouve toujours un sentiment de liberté. Je dois dire que la campagne environnante est belle. Ce n'est pas la Toscane, bien sûr, mais elle est belle. Quand je m'arrête au milieu des champs, je suis toujours ému par le silence. J'aime entendre le vent et voir les céréales onduler sous sa coupe.
Vous voyez les moutons ? C'était amusant de les prendre en photo. J'avais le sentiment qu'ils me tournaient délibérément le dos.
[9 comments]- Felicity
The following pictures depict a moment of felicity as I understand it :
The typical glass of wine - a good book - a quiet, warm evening with a barely perceptible breeze - dim lights - surrounding flowers and plants (amongst which you have scented rosemary and lavender) - a terrace (for lack of a garden) which has a view - and a teak (as opposed to plastic) furniture.
The only black snag is that the manufacture and commerce of teak furniture is a major cause of deforestation in Asia. I cannot but feel a pang of guilt here.
Of course, a beautiful girl sitting by my side would have been a notable addition to the picture, but... Christelle, it is sad to say, was far too busy watching television which we may now get directly via the web! I thought we were rid of it for good... (some of you know that we haven't had television for a whole year. I couldn't be bothered, since we moved in, to pull the cable which is strategically and conveniently hidden behind a sofa).
For those who care, the book I read last night is Karen Blixen's The African Farm. Perhaps you've seen the movie Out of Africa. Well it's her story. Her nom-de-plume (pen name) was Isak Dinesen. The book is interesting as it talks a lot about native mentalities and the impact of white men on the landscape.
A question naturally arose (not for the first time, I'm afraid) :
Do we have to spoil absolutely everything we touch? Or should we accept it and call it fatality?
Les trois premières photos incarnent la félicité telle que je la conçois :
Le classique verre de vin - un bon livre - la caresse tiède d'une brize à peine perceptible - des lumières tamisées - une terrasse (à défaut d'un jardin) avec vue, parée de verdure - un mobilier en tek (exit le plastique : j'exècre cette matière).
Naturellement, le tek souffre de ses vertus. C'est un bois qui ne fait pas l'objet d'un renouvellement planifié dans les pays d'Asie et j'éprouve toujours un certain malaise à l'idée de savoir que mon plaisir égoïste contribue à la déforestation.
Une jolie fille sise à mes cotés aurait sans nul doute complété ce merveilleux tableau. Christelle, toutefois, n'a pas résisté à la tentation de se scotcher devant l'écran de notre ordinateur, étant donné qu'il est maintenant possible de visionner certaines chaînes via le web. Pour mémoire, cela faisait un an que nous étions privé de télévision. L'appartement est muni d'un câble, mais je n'ai jamais souhaité raccorder ce dernier.
Pour ceux que cela intéresse, le livre que je suis en train de lire s'intitule La ferme africaine, de Karen Blixen. Une collection de récits authentiques dont on a fait un film un peu romancé : Out of Africa. Un bel aperçu de l'Afrique coloniale anglaise. Karen nous décrit sans a priori la mentalité des autochtones et relate les dégradations générées par la "civilisation".
Une question que je me pose sans cesse : Doit-on absolument et systématiquement ruiner tout ce que l'on touche ? Doit-on accepter le changement et l'appeler fatalité ?
[10 comments]- A few pics
I've got plenty to say, but just look at the pics for the time being.
I named the above rose variety "Chiara". ................ No, of course not. Just kidding.
I like the colour. Dark purple / Crimson velvet.
As for the pics below, they depict our terrace. The bonsai on the table is not permanent. Needs to be aired out, from time to time. See the hollyhock on the right? Amazing how it grows!
In summer the terrace is exposed to sunlight till lunchtime, which is great, cose after that the heat is unbearable. With a little luck and good care, it'll be swelling with greenery. I potted roses and many perennials.
[5 comments]- Erotic Dreams
- Last night I had one of the most exhilarating (for lack of a better word) sleeps ever, filled with hot, long-lasting erotic dreams. This morning I woke up with a sore penis due to a long persistent hard-on.
Why am I telling you this?
Well, firstly cose I'm daft beyond belief. Secondly cose I like shocking people. Makes me feel superior. Thirdly cose Christelle is now 7 months pregnant and somehow I have trouble finding her appealing in such condition.
I dreamt about a girl I met at University. That was 10 years ago, in Birmingham. Julia Heslop. A nice looking girl, with something of a tomboy regarding her manners, but fine, feminine features. I particularly loved her lips, the delicate shape of her mouth. We were in the same university residence and it took me a while to make the first move. It was quite a surprise when I realised she could actually speak French, her mother being from Lyon.
I was really fond of her. She had a boyfriend at the time, but their relationship was tumultuous and I knew I had a fair chance. I know for sure that, at one point, she was contemplating an affair with me. I worked my way all right and I was on the verge of 'plucking the fruit' when it all crumbled like a house of cards. Following an incident, and for a stupid matter of pride, I had decided to step back and withdraw. When I realised it was a wrong move, it was too late. I had missed the opportunity. For ever.
Oh I won't complain. I have a gorgeous wife (except perhaps for the belly, but that's only temporary) and an adorable boy. If I had the possibility to go back in time and change my life, I wouldn't.
Still, I think I missed something.
Btw, there is another Julia Heslop who happens to be a guitar player in a band named Little Fish (or was it the title of the song?). I thought it might have been her: the Julia I knew was also a guitar player. But then I found a picture on the net. Blurred, unfortunately, and taken from some distance. So it's difficult to tell. As far as I recall, the girl I fell in love with was sporty, rather thin, enjoying a joint from time to time, and vegetarian.
[10 comments] - Discipline and method
Today I did a little planting. Bought sereval rosiers (rosebushes) which I potted on my terrace, together with a few perennials : White delphiniums, purple hemerocallis (daylilies), red crocosmias, rosy-beige alceas (hollyhocks), yellow-orange kniphofias, blue lupins and suchlike. Should look good.
I found a title for the film script I'm currently working on: L'exilé. Will write it in English of course, but I believe it will have a greater impact if the title remains in French. As I said in a previous entry, the story takes place in French Indochina.
Here is the way I chose to proceed:
Phase 1: Research.
I've just read 2 travel narratives, both written in the late nineteenth century and offering a vivid picture of French Indochina as it was in those days. It's full of details about day-to-day life which I listed carefully and which will help me build a proper setting.
Phase 2: Backbone.
I will now work on the layout, establish a flowchart, i.e. define the scenes and arrange them in a way which would hold the public's attention from start to finish.
Phase 3: The proper writing. The funniest and most pleasant bit.
It all sounds terribly technical and I never wrote like that before. But I came to realise that it is necessary, lest I should "spread myself too thinly".
Unless you're a prodigy, discipline and method are essential. On no account one should neglect phase 1 and 2. Do so and you will inevitably "upset the balance".
The postcard (above) depicts a young Annamese (Indochinese) girl. Bought it on ebay. I think one of my characters (probably the American journalist) will fall in love with her...
[2 comments]- Evening jog and reading
Nothing much to say. I spend most of my evenings reading by the fire (or in bed). Christelle is now 7 months pregnant. We agreed on a name: James. It's not particularly original, I know, but we like it nonetheless.
Today the weather was ok and I felt the need to go for a ride on my motorbike. Paid a visit to an acquaintance who runs a bookshop downtown, then I did a little cross-country. It always instils a sense of freedom in me.
Otherwise I go jogging at least three times a week, to keep fit and "oxygenate" my brain. Always after work, preferably after dark. I admit I became addicted to it and I feel crap when I stay home.
I'll take some pics of the nearby sport grounds where I usually go. It is suprisingly green and well kept. Surprisingly, cose, like my place, it straddles the line between country and town. Always empty, to my great delight (I'm agoraphobic)!
[9 comments]- Resorting to literary agents
- Ok. Regarding my film script entitled A French Summer, I've decided to do like J. K. Rowling when she started out and resort to a literary agent. I bought The Writer's Handbook for the purpose. I spotted about ten agencies which look fairly serious and do not require reading fees. I'll try my luck with them.
Nigel, Lox, Bryan: Have you read the script? What d'you reckon? And what about the spelling or syntax?
Nigel: can I send you my covering letter for correction?
[2 comments] - An imaginary land...!
Regarding my new script (see previous entry), I think I'll go for a British colonel (and not a French one) who decides to settle in French Saigon as a place of exile. The journalist would be American, writing a book about western colonies in the Far-East. And the girl would remain French.
Now, you know I'm an e-bay fan. Keep buying ancient artefacts and coins. Today, while browsing through the world coins category, I found a curious copper (or bronze) coin dating 1907. It is a British cent depicting king Edward VII on the obverse and bearing the legend Newfoundland on the reverse. "What the deuce is that", I exclaimed! Thought it was some kind of fictitious, fantasy name. Then I realised, consulting my dictionary, that it was the English name for Canadian Terre-Neuve. I was surprised and a trifle disappointed. I was hoping for an imaginary country, such as Peter Pan's Neverland...!
Then an idea struck me. What if... What if I were to buy the coin and offer it to my son Brinsley, pretending it is the sole evidence brought back by a scholar who had found and visited that mysterious country? What if I were to write a diary about it? The scholar's diary, getting inspiration from my collection of travel narratives (see previous entry). I would write it bit by bit, day by day, and I read it to Brinsley at bedtime.
How does that sound to you, my friends?
[7 comments]- A framework for my next script
Ok. Things are getting clearer in my mind. I needed to think a little about the next course of action. I told you I was considering a comedy of manners. Several practical factors led me to it.
But... - for there is a "but" - ...I have to listen to my own nature. And my nature says: write about the past. Write about values which no longer have authority. Write about epochs when reinforced concrete, excessive consumerism and bad taste were not yet prevailing. When Nature wasn't odiously deflowered, blindly desecrated. Tell the people it's still possible to live otherwise, to opt for another system, to envisage another future. Cose I tell you, our future isn't very bright. And I'm not ready to accept it.
I might just be a drop in the ocean. My efforts might prove totally useless. Still, I try. And so doing, I live. I live.
Fact is, everyone has the means to fight the current wave. Just say no. No to silly, numbing tv shows which soften your powers of reasoning. No to useless, superfluous plastic goods made in China. No to excessive packaging. No to crappy music, allegedly rebellious, but very conformist in essence. Turn off your tv, dim your light and read. Read as much as you can. Eat real, simple food. Take time to cook. Enjoy simple pleasures such as gardening. Grow your own veggies (if possible). Go for a walk in the country.
Don't think I'm nostalgic. As I said in a previous entry, the past wasn't better. For many, many people, it was even worse. But our roots are in it. Today, people tend to forget it. They are "uprooted", déracinés in French. They're lost. Being so, they care about nothing. They cannot put things into perspective. And they say amen to a system which unscrupulously fashions their mind. A system which is not necessarily cynical but blind, unaware of itself, of the damages it causes.
My pen is my sword. Even if I'm not published, I will survive. Through my written work, my sons and grandsons will come to know me.
Case 1 - they will perhaps think I was tremendously naïve. They might even throw my manuscripts in the bin and say : "What a jerk he was"! Then, yes, I will truly cease to exist.
Case 2 - They will like my manuscripts. Reading my stuff would be a way to "download" a bit of my soul. And they will become stronger. More confident in a sense that they wouldn't be alone. Part of me would be with them, like the "force"...!
A year ago I bought a series of travel narratives gathered in a collection entitled Le Tour du Monde. 35 volumes printed, year by year, in the second half of the nineteenth century, offering a lively picture of the world as it was in those days.
One of those narratives, regarding the colonial city of Saigon in French Indochina, drew my attention. It is particularly well written and surprisingly nuancé for the period. The narrator was fairly impartial when he wrote it, uncommonly aware of his own prejudices.
I think it will provide me with a nice framework for my next script.
I think the story will take place in that city, in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. The character I have in mind would be that of a French general (more likely a colonel) who, for some reason, resigned (or had to resign) his commission and came to settle there. He would lead a fairly secluded life with a faithful aide-de-camp till a teenage girl, aged 17, would start taking an interest in him. I'm also considering a third character, a young American (or British) journalist, who somehow mixes with them. Intense but decent feelings.
About the pics above: I've just bought this small medal on ebay (17 mm wide). On the obverse you have a portrait of Vivant Denon, an artist who took part in Napoleon's scientific expedition in Egypt. He drew many ancient monuments which came to illustrate the renowned Description de l'Egypte. I intend to mount it on a necklace for Christelle.
[5 comments]- What's the recipe?
- Though I believe I have the mighty soul of a poet (i.e. endowed with a sensitive nature, listening to what Nature has to say) I am nonetheless very cartesian.
What is the recipe for a good film script? I mean, for a first film script.
You need:
1. A good plot and a well-thought layout. Scenes which 'interlink' nicely.
2. A message to convey.
3. International characters for a wider diffusion/circulation.
4. A simple framework. Avoid decors or scenes which require time and money.
5. Talent as a script writer. A filmscript is not a novel. And that's the tricky bit! The writing of a script has its own rules. If you're a prodigy, you may perhaps choose to ignore them. If not, and this is my case, it's better to comply!
In other words you need a story taking place today, involving 'simple' characters you may identify with and who evolve in a common, ordinary environment.
A comédie de moeurs (comedy of manners) is ideal.
[2 comments] - No, you may not!
- 'lo everyone.
Can't say I had a beauty sleep last night. Got a sore throat and I kept waking up every twenty minutes or so. The ghosts of my past naturally came up haunting my thoughts, as they usually do a little before dawn. This time, however, I wasn't ready to accept it. I told them to ............ bugger off! And, surprisingly, they did!
Future's ahead, fellows, future's ahead!
[2 comments] - Inspiration, that's the key!
So yesterday morning I went jogging. I liked it cose the air was singularly crisp and pure. I could literally eat mouthfuls of it. Pleasure for the lungs, pleasure for the brain.
When writing, you need to get inspiration from people. It can be done either by a close observation of those people in their environment, or......... you read female magazines! I love female magazines! It's full of anecdotes on our habits, our vices, our sexuality. The perfect stuff for a perfect story! And so I bought the last issue of Jeune et Jolie, a French magazine for spotty teenage girls viewing themselves as (fully grown) women. I'm also stealing Christelle's mags on pregnancy (oh, btw, she's 6 months pregnant)! There too, there are many juicy stories deserving remembrance. From time to time I tear a page or two which I ceremoniously insert and preserve in a binder. My collection. My pride.
Having finished the rewrite of A French Summer (I will have to change that title), I will now resume the writing of A comedy of Manners which, as you know, involves the lot of you, guys...!
The pics above depict one of my latest aquisitions on ebay. A Roman fibula with a very nice patina. Had to fight for it.
[3 comments]- Your help
Ok, guys. A warning: I'll be talking about myself once again. So no need to read what follows if you feel you cannot stand it.
As I told you in my previous article, is it now my policy to devote my life to creative activities. I need to produce artworks not for the sake of it, but because it instills the feeling that I exist. Existence through the matter I fashion and which, hopefully, will remain after my flesh rots away. Don't mistake it for mere vanity. It is vanity, sure. It is also fear, fear of the void, fear of the unknown, fear to sink into oblivion (here again, vanity). I want to communicate my feelings to posterity. For we are made of flesh and feelings. I'm not a walking stomach. I'm not a consumption unit we'll erase from statistics once I die.
Let me give you an example: my father, now deceased. He was a civil engineer. My mother always kept saying that civil engineering was the crème de la crème. Yet, what did he achieve? What did he create? He would work from Mondays to Fridays. Come back late at night. On Saturdays he would clean his BMW and play golf on Sundays. From time to time he would go out or invite friends for dinner. That's about it ! Great life!
I don't want to fit such a mould. Let me prove you there are alternatives. Let me claim it through my work, written or artistic.
Talking about written works, I unearthed a manuscript which I wrote a year ago and never sent. I think, Nigel, that you might have read it already. It badly needed a rewrite and I'm pleased to inform you that it's done. Nigel, would it be possible for you to have another look at it? Bryan, I'd be delighted if you too could read it and let me know what you think of it.
John, Lox, MM, anyone else: would you be interested?
You see the dinky here above? I remember my father used to have plenty of them. Military cars, trucks, tanks,etc. The whole collection misteriously vanished when I was still a kid and I suspect my brother had sold the lot for cigarettes. I now endeavour to renew it.
[7 comments]- Towards a creative life
A black and white fresco I painted on the wall which overhangs our bed.
The pattern, very modern as it looks, is in fact 6,000 years old.
It is the reproduction of an ibex
depicted on a small terracota vessel excavated in Susa (Iran).
I came to an important decision. Two decisions, in fact.
Firstly, I have decided to put an end to my studies as a lanscape architect. I've been investing a lot of my time, too much really (I'm totally knackered), and though I was on the verge on reaching the last stage of my training with very good marks, I came to realise it did not respond to my expectations. It was far too theoretical, many courses being totally superfluous and others, which I considered most important, not sufficently developed. The French are far too rigid when it comes to teaching and there is no room for the individual touch. I know for a fact that the Anglo-saxons are much more pragmatic. They know how to get down to essentials. And they know it's important to encourage initiatives.
Secondly, I have decided to wipe out (almost) all my previous entries and start afresh. I've been talking too much about myself and I no longer want to bore you with my uninteresting grieves.
I'm resolved to look on the bright side from now on and I firmly intend to stop brooding over my past (or the people's present attitude). Sure, I don't have everything I want, but I've got nothing to complain about. I'm already a priviledged man by comparison.
Naturally I keep my present job (teaching 'corporate' English) and, if things were to turn sour with my employer (you never know), I still have the possibility to go freelance. I got to know the market fairly well and I know I could be competitive.
It is with some relief that I can now devote my free time to creative works such as the one you may see above, and the writing of film scripts. A new era begins for me, as I now realise it's never too late to change direction. I intend to exist through my art and be prolific.
[13 comments]- Self-centered
My hair turning grey, I grow old and I cannot help but keep brooding over the unavoidable leap into the bottomless pit of silence.
Such is my nature. I come to a point in my life where hopes (more like illusions) are deserting me. I have plans, I have ideas. But I breathe with difficulty everytime I consider one. I'm tired. I lack the energy. And I lack a stimulating environment.
I will endeavour to dedicate a greater part of my time to the arts. I need not to express, but to find myself in them. I need to paint. I need to fashion. I need to create my own environement.
I feel a bit shameful cose I keep talking about my own little person. One could reasonably argue that I'm self-centered. I'm ready to accept it.
The picture above is the terrace I designed for my mum. A simple one, for a limited budget. Do not mind the colours. Bad scanning.
[7 comments]- The Name of the Rose
So last night I ordered a book on the internet. I'm sure you all have heard of it, as it is one of Umberto Eco's most renowned written work which was successfully adapted for the cinema, i.e. The Name of the Rose. I loved the movie and I have an Italian copy of the novel. My Italian being too rusty, I couldn't pluck up the courage to open it and therefore resolved to opt for an English copy. Can't wait to get it.
I like it because it's kind of an escape from reality. An escape to a world which wasn't better, far from it, but... but what ? Why do I like it ? I think it's the concept. A tower which contains the knowledge of the world, and a world which remains savage, that is pure, not yet bearing the ugly mark (scar) of mankind. In those days, men lived not in harmony with Nature, but according to her principles. Today, the world is a nonsense as it works against her (best translation for contre nature). We are destroying ourselves because our technology enables us to stop complying with Nature. We live a full-scale (grandeur nature in French) tragedy.
Let me raise my glass to it !
The musket balls here above are some other acquisition of mine on Ebay. Dating from the Civil War (from a known battlefield in Yorkshire - 1644), they are a piece of history in themselves. I'll put them in a small glass vase by the chimney. Will look good.
[3 comments]- Bonne année !
Yes, first entry of the year. I've just bought the above coins on ebay. I always wanted to have a coin bearing the features of Medusa, a mythological creature who would literally petrify (i.e. turn into stone) her opponents by simply glaring at them. That one looks particularly expressive, don't you think ? (looks like she's wearing a brace !)
The other coin bears the feature of Julian II, last pagan emperor of the Roman world. Here too, the face is an interesting one. Unusual semitic nose, luscious lips and prominent chickbones which confer relief and vivacity to the face.
Wish you all a happy new year and a good health !
[4 comments]- To John, Lox, Nigel, Tom, Kev, Travis, Bryan, MM.
- Dear friends (yes I mean it!),
I have a question to put to you.
You know (as I believe I told you) that I teach English to employees and executives from private companies. The Chambre of Commerce, which is my actual employer, contacts those companies, negotiates the contracts, then calls for me.
Now, if I were to go freelance, it would require little investment, if none at all. The idea came up to me (or rather became concrete) as I was talking about it with one of my students. That student, who happens to be the CEO of a French software company, urged me to do so. Firstly because the demand is very high and continues to grow. Secondly, because the Chambre of Commerce asks for 54 euros an hour, whereas I only receive the third of it. Imagine I ask for 30 (or 35) euros an hour! I would still (and by far) be a winner...!
4 problems:
1. I'm not a marketing guy. Yet, being self-employed means that I would have to canvass the area myself. Takes time.
2. My English, and you know it, isn't perfect. In a sense, it's my best asset, as it enables me to work out my students' difficulties (given that I went through the same difficulties).
3. I didn't sign any clause regarding exclusive rights with the Chambre of Commerce. But it wouldn't be fair to "approach" the companies I have been (or am) teaching to.
4. That student of mine told me to carry on working for the Chambre of Commerce at the same time. At least, till I get enough 'customers'. Which is wise, but a bit rotten, as I wouldn't certainly tell the Chamber. I doubt they would accept a competitor in their midst, nor any kind of partnership.
Once again, as I said, investment would be minimal. Profits could be substantial. The only risk is to lose my current job, should the Chambre get wind of it. On the other hand, as the saying goes, " qui ne tente rien, n'a rien ". A rough translation would be: "If you don't try, you won't get anything.
What d'you reckon ?
[12 comments] - Reading and bumming...
- Hello everyone
Had a busy week, hence my lack of involvement in the message board. Weekend was ok. Spent my entire saturday by the fire, lolled in my sofa. Read a book in Italian, entitled Melissa P. - 100 colpi di spazzola prima di andare a dormire. Edifying.
Will start another book tonight: Wake up, Sir! Heard it was in the Wodehouse tradition.
The script is at a standstill. Will resume it shortly (if I pluck up the courage).
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