Very Little Happens In My Books.

The Funny Thing In France Is That Writers Are Not Allowed To Retire, Because The French Government Say You Are Still Earning Money From Books You Wrote 20 Years Ago.

Very Little Happens In My Books.

It Is At A Time Like This, When Crisis Threatens The Stomach, That The French Display The Most Sympathetic Side Of Their Nature. Tell Them Stories Of Physical Injury Or Financial Ruin And They Will Either Laugh Or Commiserate Politely. But Tell Them You Are Facing Gastronomic Hardship, And They Will Move Heaven And Earth And Even Restaurant Tables To Help You.

Sunglasses Must Be Kept On Until An Acquaintance Is Identified At One Of The Tables, But One Must Not Appear To Be Looking For Company. Instead, The Impression Should Be That One Is Heading Into The Cafe To Make A Phone Call To One's Titled Italian Admirer, When--quelle Surprise!--one Sees A Friend. The Sunglasses Can Then Be Removed And The Hair Tossed While One Is Persuaded To Sit Down.

Prescription For Writer’s Block: Fear Of Poverty.