"I thought you were in France!"
"Oh. You’re back?"
"You’re not supposed to be here."
Last night Roberto and I were totally busted. We were at a literary event in Austin and we saw loads of people we know. We have been home for a couple of weeks. In June I always lead creative writing camps for my organization Kids With Pens and Roberto had to wrap up a construction project. But we still had a lot of stories about France to tell you, so . . . we kept telling them.
But yes, we are home.
After being away for a month, coming back definitely involved some culture shock. We had to fly through the Atlanta airport and we were overwhelmed by the smell of fried food and barbecue sauce. People were so loud! And the security and airport employees seemed so gruff and angry.
But when we got to Austin we were greeted by these faces, so how upset could we be?
We had a love fest with the dogs, and we’ve been delighted to see friends and family. Since returning we’ve celebrated my brother’s birthday, gone to a graduation party for our friends’ daughter, eaten fabulous Mexican food, and gone to a live Cheers reunion at the Moody Theater. I’ve also gone back to rehearsals with my band, Super Tight, which was created through the incredible Austin organization Girl Guitar.
The big questions for us at the event last night were "When are you going back to France?" and "When are you moving permanently to France?" The answers are, "Soon," and "We don’t know." Regular readers know that we are flying by the seat of our pants and learning as we go. The next time we travel to Montpellier we would like to stay for three months. To do that we need to wait ninety days before we go back, so we hope to return in September and stay through Thanksgiving. Tarte à la citrouille (pumpkin pie) anyone? We will also take the dogs next time (you will hear a lot about this, I’m sure).
I’m incredibly excited to spend three months in Montpellier—to have real time to meet people and take intensive French lessons. I’m also ready to get into a good work routine there. I’m very lucky that as a novelist I’m able to work anywhere. Here are some views I enjoyed while looking for the perfect writing spot last month.
But I confess that seeing so many friends last night was hard. And being back in my band has been a bit heartbreaking, too. I know extraordinary women in Austin and I can guarantee I am not going to find a band to join in Montpellier who wants to sing about Texas abortion rights.
A band is complicated. I can’t leave for three months and expect them to hold my place. This band was initially created around original songs that I wrote, which has been an extraordinary experience. I’m very new to songwriting and I’m only an intermediate guitar player. To have other musicians join in and layer on top of something you’ve written is like—well, imagine your favorite dinner anecdote becoming a play with multiple actors and an audience. It’s sort of feels like that?
I know moving to a new country involves sacrifice. You can’t do big bold things without giving something up. My memory was that it was easy in my twenties, but I know that even then I had inner turmoil—when I moved from New York to Paris to go to theater school, I panicked that I was shutting the door on my stand-up career.
And I was right. I did.
But I opened the door to solo theater shows, a touring theater company, traveling the world, and eventually writing my first novel. Leaving my life and friends in Los Angeles in 2013 was hard but returning to my hometown of Austin led to meeting my husband, founding Kids With Pens, publishing four more books, and becoming a songwriter. I started a weekly movie night with my nephews and we have watched more than 200 movies together (and still counting.)
I can’t imagine what a move to France will bring. All I know is that it can’t include all my Austin family, friends, and band members (even though everyone swears they will visit). I have to move forward with a big open mind and spirit and trust that France holds opportunities and experiences that I have never even considered.
Roberto and I dream of bringing musicians and writers over to France where they will be celebrated. There is a bar around the corner called Café Ciné where I would love to host an American Film night. Locals have already told me how much French children would love to do creative writing in English, and I suspect there are a good handful of immigrants looking for help on their novels and memoirs.
I leave you with this short snippet of an outdoor concert we attended on Thursday—Melissa Carper singing bluegrass in front of the city skyline, something that could only happen in Austin. As I watched I tried to remind myself to be present in every moment and enjoy exactly where I was standing.
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois (until next time),
Carolyn & Roberto
Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death! Go for it!