A WARNING: Dear Guest! Don't gnash your teeth everytime you meet a spelling or a syntax mistake! English is not my first language! So, please, be clement and keep in mind that, beyond the form, it's the content which truly matters!
You are intrigued by my personality? My sheer sagacity? My broad, shrewd, swift mind? The pertinence of my words? And you want to know more about me? I suggest you click on the three following links:
[Sheri - A Brief History]
[Sheri's Pictures]
[Sheri's Articles]
Fighting oblivion-
Brinsley. A few pics.
Ok. Time to post a new entry. Question is: what shall I write about? Tough!
Well, if you look for a piece of news, I could say that I started talking in English with my son. He is now 4 years old. I was afraid it would perturb him a little, but on the whole he gets used to it rather smoothly. One has to reckon the brain of children is very flexible. 'Elastic' we say in French.
Brinsley doesn't reply in English, and I often have to repeat myself in French, but in a week time he already understood phrases like: Turn off the telly! Go wash your hands! Go to your room! Time for bed! Time to have a bath! Take off your shoes! Put on your coat! Wait! Be quiet! Give me a hug! Kiss me goodnight/goodbye! See you later! Etc...
Taking advantage of the weather's current mildness, I did a lot of planting, ruining myself with tons of perennials. Can't wait to see them grow!
I finished the writing of "My Gradfather's Diary", my latest scenario. As I said to my mum, I'm rather proud of it. I consider it an achievement, even if I don't find a producer. Should I die for any reason, I'd like Christelle to keep it for my son. Because that script is me. It contains a large part of my soul.
People write for money. For money or for survival.
It is a lie when someone says: "I just write for myself, for the pleasure of it"! Writing is like making children. You do it to perpetuate your memory. Sex, the transmision of your genes to your child, enables you to deceive death. But, what of the mind? It doesn't survive your demise. Unless you convert it into words!
In fact, people who write have a massive ego! They want to cry "I exist" to the whole world. They cannot accept anonymity. They cannot accept oblivion.
So am I...! I plead guilty.
[3 comments] - If I fail...
- A new year, but no resolutions. I know my limits and I'm too weak minded to stick to them.
I'd like to write more often on the blog, but really I haven't got anything worthwhile to say. I don't want to bore you with sordid details of a very common, uneventful life.
I finished the writing of a second scenario which despite the title, A French summer, is not a remake of A Syrian Summer. If I kept most of the characters, if the spirit remains pretty much the same, the dialogues are, apart from a few scenes, entirely different. And so is the setting. The structure is lighter, more spontenuous.
My part time job as an English teatcher suits me fine. Money is no longer a cause of great concern and my students, all adults, are very much pleasant to work with.
I decided to resume my correspondence course in landscape architecture, which I suspended for six weeks in order to rest and write a little. The writing is not over though, as I intend to work on a third script which I wrote about a year ago: My Grandfather's Diary. It needs a quick brush and a polishing, but it is in my opinion the best work I have done so far.
I ordered The Writer's Handbook 2007 which I hope will prove to be of some help.
I'll be a scriptwriter. I'm determined.
It is not a resolution. It is a declaration of faith and in that sense, my new motto is aut Caesar, aut nihil ! For the benefit of the uneducated, it's latin and means: "(I'll be) either emperor, or nothing (i.e. or I die)". There won't be any compromise. If I fail...
[8 comments]