Never thought I'd catch a Flyleaf Books mention from a Parisian literary newsletter, but Substack makes for a small world. What a tale!
Fun fact: I used to live 10 minutes up the road from the store and have been thrilled to see it survive the pandemic, along with other bookstores in the area.
Whaaat! Small world indeed. James Taylor might've been right, somehow Carolina is never far from my mind ... I grew up in Chapel Hill and am so glad to hear Flyleaf is still thriving. The Regulator in Durham is another gem.
The Regulator makes for a great spot downtown, definitely. Though I've gotten partial to Golden Fig (also in Durham), since it's closer to me and right next door to the Gughlhupf bakery and brewery. It was founded in 2019, so you likely haven't visited yet?
For starters, drinking 50 beers sounds like a real panacea if your ailment is living
Second, feeling successful from personal milestones (publishing, book tours, etc.) plus the absolute financial disconnect and the constant hollowness of social media-based self-branding is just a unique hell that literary figures of the past could scarcely know. But imagine the imposter syndrome that must've pervaded authors who had only legacy press to gauge themselves. Good stuff
Good point. For all the challenges of celebrity culture and social media-based self-branding, the fact that I know at least a few people have read something I wrote yesterday is pretty fantastic and validating. And who doesn't like a little red heart from time-to-time. The 50 beers/day was called "the pony" cure because the small glasses were cured ponies. I don't think I need to try it to know if it works.
A cautionary tale, but an inspirational one also. The only function of the writer is to write: money, fame etc are by-products, and must never be an aim. Once one accepts this and adjusts one's priorities accordingly, there is , at least in my own case, a sense of release and freedom. Keep up the good work.
Yes indeed. As the Bhagavad Gita says, we don't have the right to the fruits of our labor, only to the labor itself. And that sense of release and freedom that comes from writing for the sake of writing really opens up a new pathway towards gratifying writing.
Yes indeed! It's already happening, too. Ted Gioia is going to be releasing his latest book on the history of music via Substack, and of course Elle Griffin has already proven it can work on this platform!
Your journalism skills shine through ... I finished the MFA in early 2020, which was a low-residency program (it was the monthly "packet" system with 2 in-person residencies per year). As for the band, welp, 'tis a story for another time ...
I really like the title of your substack which vibrates for me. Paris is ultimately the most beautiful and romantic city I know, but my time there was vastly different than the one you write about. I'd just finished a 3-months junket to London where I'd gone to hear punk bands I'd only been able to worship from afar. My trip had gone well enough. I'd found a temporary job in the mailroom of a publishing house, I’d seen the bands and eaten the greasy food. My time for hanging around London had come to an end and, with just a bit of money in my pocket, I thought I should take a look at Paris.
I was going to stay for a couple of days and wander around, but I ended up staying for a year and a half. It happened because I met a beautiful french girl who sat in the seat next to me on the bus to gare du nord. She convinced one of her friends to let me crash at his house, and one thing led to another and I ended up living with this beautiful girl in a garret-like apartment in the 18th arrondissement. I didn't speak french and I didn't have work papers, but I found a job as a laborer in a fly-by-night construction company where my job was to help chisel away the facades of old buildings and mix "la colle" from sand and lime and cement to hoist in buckets to the masons. All the other construction guys were from Yugoslavia (when there still was such a country) and they were like grizzled pirates from a pirate ship, argumentative beyond belief, crazy and passionate and drunk. We came down from the scaffolding for breaks five or six times a day to whichever cafe was nearby, and I'd return to my love nest near Pigalle staggering from booze and coated in dust. On my days off we'd lie in bed all day and, in between times, walk for miles. I loved the walkways along the Seine. I loved the cafes with their pinball machines. The cheap wine is as good as expensive wine here. I loved Paris and I should have never left it but—you know how it goes—when you're young you think stupidly: what am I doing with my life? Shouldn't I try to make something of myself? The french girl left me after we came to California. I became a graphic artist and a fiction writer. My publishing adventures have been more spotty and less successful than yours, and I've had to do all sorts of jobs to support my creative habits over the years…. In any case, your story in the column above made me want to add a few of my own memories, vis-a-vis Paris…
Hot damn, what an amazing story. And I'd say more interesting any human than any kind of fiction you could think up. Did you write in a diary / even just letters to people while you were there? I've found returning to old writings incredibly valuable for helping me get back to a psychological / existential place I want to be. The walkways along Paris have only gotten more beautiful; Mayor Hidalgo is transforming the city into a flâneur's dream, probably in preparation for the 2024 Olympics + The Future.
Your story about leaving Paris--and not exactly regret but reconsideration of the choice--is one that I hear so often when it comes to this city. The romanticization of young love in Paris was cemented into lore with Hemingway, but the truth is, it's possible to live a lifetime here, and live out the stories we'd otherwise be compelled to recall by walking down a different part of the river, taking a left instead of a right. All that to say, if you ever have the itch to return to Paris, you wouldn't be the first nor the last to figure it out, especially since you're of the same tribe, AKA not afraid to have a few odd jobs.
Thank you Anne! In many ways it's the story that first inspired me to start writing here on Substack, so I'm glad to be here and honored to have readers like yourself
Thanks for your kind remarks. I wish I’d kept a record of those days. I did write letters to lots of people but those letters are long gone. I didn’t even have a camera. I do have a black-and-white contact sheet with some images I took with a borrowed camera and that’s about all. One of these years I’ll get back there, but it’s all so much more complicated now. I look forward to reading more of your posts. Ruben (from the Nature Preserve)
I dig the Nature Preserve premise, currently enjoying the opening chapter with a cup of coffee. That black-and-white contact sheet sounds like a gem for future stories if nothing else, like Ray Bradbury's "The Illustrated Man," one of my all-time favorites. I've actually got a dystopian/utopian tale that is in the same spirit of the Nature Preserve, small world, indeed. It's so cool to see folks across from oceans and continents are tackling the same ideas. Looking forward to a pint or coffee in Paris one day.
I love how you frame this three-part autobiography. If it were a book, I'd say "I couldn't put it down." But since it's digital--I couldn't stop scrolling. Wonderful storytelling.
Thanks Kate, I’ve been enjoying the consistency of weekly posts , which forces me to think very clearly about narrative structure and also writing for the inevitable desire to continue the scroll ...
Never thought I'd catch a Flyleaf Books mention from a Parisian literary newsletter, but Substack makes for a small world. What a tale!
Fun fact: I used to live 10 minutes up the road from the store and have been thrilled to see it survive the pandemic, along with other bookstores in the area.
Whaaat! Small world indeed. James Taylor might've been right, somehow Carolina is never far from my mind ... I grew up in Chapel Hill and am so glad to hear Flyleaf is still thriving. The Regulator in Durham is another gem.
The Regulator makes for a great spot downtown, definitely. Though I've gotten partial to Golden Fig (also in Durham), since it's closer to me and right next door to the Gughlhupf bakery and brewery. It was founded in 2019, so you likely haven't visited yet?
For starters, drinking 50 beers sounds like a real panacea if your ailment is living
Second, feeling successful from personal milestones (publishing, book tours, etc.) plus the absolute financial disconnect and the constant hollowness of social media-based self-branding is just a unique hell that literary figures of the past could scarcely know. But imagine the imposter syndrome that must've pervaded authors who had only legacy press to gauge themselves. Good stuff
Good point. For all the challenges of celebrity culture and social media-based self-branding, the fact that I know at least a few people have read something I wrote yesterday is pretty fantastic and validating. And who doesn't like a little red heart from time-to-time. The 50 beers/day was called "the pony" cure because the small glasses were cured ponies. I don't think I need to try it to know if it works.
A cautionary tale, but an inspirational one also. The only function of the writer is to write: money, fame etc are by-products, and must never be an aim. Once one accepts this and adjusts one's priorities accordingly, there is , at least in my own case, a sense of release and freedom. Keep up the good work.
Yes indeed. As the Bhagavad Gita says, we don't have the right to the fruits of our labor, only to the labor itself. And that sense of release and freedom that comes from writing for the sake of writing really opens up a new pathway towards gratifying writing.
Woof... Woof... Woof...
Ba … bar … bark
It will be interesting to see how Footnote 2 shakes out. I’ve been trying to ignore a similar idea.
Yes indeed! It's already happening, too. Ted Gioia is going to be releasing his latest book on the history of music via Substack, and of course Elle Griffin has already proven it can work on this platform!
Wait, are you still in the band? Are you still in grad school? How are you doing it all from Paris? I’m not done with the story 😍
Your journalism skills shine through ... I finished the MFA in early 2020, which was a low-residency program (it was the monthly "packet" system with 2 in-person residencies per year). As for the band, welp, 'tis a story for another time ...
I really like the title of your substack which vibrates for me. Paris is ultimately the most beautiful and romantic city I know, but my time there was vastly different than the one you write about. I'd just finished a 3-months junket to London where I'd gone to hear punk bands I'd only been able to worship from afar. My trip had gone well enough. I'd found a temporary job in the mailroom of a publishing house, I’d seen the bands and eaten the greasy food. My time for hanging around London had come to an end and, with just a bit of money in my pocket, I thought I should take a look at Paris.
I was going to stay for a couple of days and wander around, but I ended up staying for a year and a half. It happened because I met a beautiful french girl who sat in the seat next to me on the bus to gare du nord. She convinced one of her friends to let me crash at his house, and one thing led to another and I ended up living with this beautiful girl in a garret-like apartment in the 18th arrondissement. I didn't speak french and I didn't have work papers, but I found a job as a laborer in a fly-by-night construction company where my job was to help chisel away the facades of old buildings and mix "la colle" from sand and lime and cement to hoist in buckets to the masons. All the other construction guys were from Yugoslavia (when there still was such a country) and they were like grizzled pirates from a pirate ship, argumentative beyond belief, crazy and passionate and drunk. We came down from the scaffolding for breaks five or six times a day to whichever cafe was nearby, and I'd return to my love nest near Pigalle staggering from booze and coated in dust. On my days off we'd lie in bed all day and, in between times, walk for miles. I loved the walkways along the Seine. I loved the cafes with their pinball machines. The cheap wine is as good as expensive wine here. I loved Paris and I should have never left it but—you know how it goes—when you're young you think stupidly: what am I doing with my life? Shouldn't I try to make something of myself? The french girl left me after we came to California. I became a graphic artist and a fiction writer. My publishing adventures have been more spotty and less successful than yours, and I've had to do all sorts of jobs to support my creative habits over the years…. In any case, your story in the column above made me want to add a few of my own memories, vis-a-vis Paris…
Hot damn, what an amazing story. And I'd say more interesting any human than any kind of fiction you could think up. Did you write in a diary / even just letters to people while you were there? I've found returning to old writings incredibly valuable for helping me get back to a psychological / existential place I want to be. The walkways along Paris have only gotten more beautiful; Mayor Hidalgo is transforming the city into a flâneur's dream, probably in preparation for the 2024 Olympics + The Future.
Your story about leaving Paris--and not exactly regret but reconsideration of the choice--is one that I hear so often when it comes to this city. The romanticization of young love in Paris was cemented into lore with Hemingway, but the truth is, it's possible to live a lifetime here, and live out the stories we'd otherwise be compelled to recall by walking down a different part of the river, taking a left instead of a right. All that to say, if you ever have the itch to return to Paris, you wouldn't be the first nor the last to figure it out, especially since you're of the same tribe, AKA not afraid to have a few odd jobs.
Loved your story and your work. Truly wonderful that such happiness was born during the worst year of COVID. Keep up the great work.
Thank you Anne! In many ways it's the story that first inspired me to start writing here on Substack, so I'm glad to be here and honored to have readers like yourself
Thanks for your kind remarks. I wish I’d kept a record of those days. I did write letters to lots of people but those letters are long gone. I didn’t even have a camera. I do have a black-and-white contact sheet with some images I took with a borrowed camera and that’s about all. One of these years I’ll get back there, but it’s all so much more complicated now. I look forward to reading more of your posts. Ruben (from the Nature Preserve)
I dig the Nature Preserve premise, currently enjoying the opening chapter with a cup of coffee. That black-and-white contact sheet sounds like a gem for future stories if nothing else, like Ray Bradbury's "The Illustrated Man," one of my all-time favorites. I've actually got a dystopian/utopian tale that is in the same spirit of the Nature Preserve, small world, indeed. It's so cool to see folks across from oceans and continents are tackling the same ideas. Looking forward to a pint or coffee in Paris one day.
Hope you’ll keep reading! Chapter 18 out tomorrow…
This series is beautiful Samuel.
Thank you for the kind words Angela. It felt cathartic to be able to delve back into my early years in Paris and share it with y'all here.
Quite the inspirational read for la rentrée
I love how you frame this three-part autobiography. If it were a book, I'd say "I couldn't put it down." But since it's digital--I couldn't stop scrolling. Wonderful storytelling.
Thanks Kate, I’ve been enjoying the consistency of weekly posts , which forces me to think very clearly about narrative structure and also writing for the inevitable desire to continue the scroll ...
Loved this whole series, Samuel. 🥂
See you tomorrow!
Thank you Meg, can't wait to get the live version of your writing journey as well