Learning to speak French came very easily to me. As though it was a natural progression in my life. It’s been 10 years since my last classroom lesson of Francais yet there are times I still find a comfort and ease in speaking this beautiful language.
The poetry of this Latin based language ignites a firestorm of need within me. A desire to travel somewhere I’ve never been. As though there’s something deeply rooted in my psyche, spirit, essence; whatever noun offends you less.
While there’s been this deep-rooted French connection it was only recently that I began infusing this love of France into my creative writing. Oddly enough, it was during my visit to Ireland in 2004 that I started thinking how much I wanted to travel to France next.
I tried to learn Irish Gaelic. Didn’t go very well. The failing experience was a major blow to my ego. I’m proud to say that I do quite well learning languages. At least I did learning basic Latin and then French. With my “wide array of expertise” I erroneously assumed I could master any language with as much ease as I did French.
So I decided that my next big trip would be to the glorious land of beautiful gardens, pastries and historic chateaus. When I’ll get there I’m not sure, but until I do the settings of my creative work will remain strongly French infused.