Author Lynda Marron on the writing of Last Chance in Paris: A Portrait of the Debut Author as a Middle-aged Woman!
How does it feel, you ask?
Let me think.
When the postman passed the box of advance copies over the garden fence, I felt a surge of anxiety. The reality hit home that I’d gone and done it. I’d put my heart on a page for all the world to see and to judge, and there was no taking it back.
I put that box of books away in my wardrobe and tried not to think about it.
Later that same day I saw a photo of my book on Instagram – one of those ‘look what just landed in my postbox’ posts that I’ve often written myself. The anxiety went into overdrive. Now I knew people were reading it.
I worked hard at that stage to keep it all out of my head. I was fortunate that the publicity people (Gill Hess and Calder) were keeping me busy writing features for magazines and newspapers, which was in itself a new and exciting experience. When I wasn’t writing or reading, I chopped cabbage for sauerkraut, dug and planted a new flower bed,and spent a silly amount of time embroidering a tote bag.
When the first reviews came I felt a sort of embarrassed gratitude, because several were from Instagram friends. These were people who were aware that I would read their words and for that reason, I felt, were extra kind and over-generous.
Then came the first interviews and genuine fear. This was the bit that could, had I let my thoughts range that far ahead, have kept me from ever sending that manuscript anywhere. This was the biggest hurdle for me. This was the arena where I felt vulnerable and knew I was weak. I’m not good at thinking on my feet. I avoid talking about my feelings (that is, after all, why I write) and, worst of all, the subject matter and emotional nature of my book was bound to present all sorts of pitfalls.
Some went better than others. They got easier. I still have an uncomfortable feeling of having erred on the side of opening up too much, of having given away too much of myself. After all, I gave away a lot in the book itself and that was supposed to be the limit. I felt very exposed. I’m still figuring out whether I need to get used to this feeling or learn how to say more words with less cost.
Then came a slew of events that were so surreal to me I think a big part of my brain refused to believe what was happening.
One Friday afternoon, I brought my youngest daughter (12) into town and we saw, from the bus, a poster in the window of Waterstones announcing my book launch. A week later we were back to witness my book stacked up in piles on a table near the checkout.
The following day I was invited by Dubray to come in and sign some stock. This wasn’t like the photos you see of Marian Keyes signing 1000 books. This took about seven and half minutes and left me wondering whether I might have just slipped into a short but sweet daydream.
‘Aren’t you excited?’ said my girl, but I couldn’t take it in. What did I feel? I felt something verging on denial. I felt disbelief.
To be honest, everything that happened next – the reviews, the congratulatory emails and messages, the phone calls and flowers – all of it was overshadowed by the sheer terror I felt about the speech I planned to make at the launch. Ninety-five percent of my brain was consumed with the writing of it, the polishing, the doubting, and finally the learning off by heart of it. The remaining five per cent concentrated on filling the fridge and figuring out which high-heeled shoes wouldn’t land me in A&E.
And then the big night came – the launch. I’m still replaying it on a loop in my head: John Breen holding the door of Waterstones open for me, greeting me with a big smile and an even bigger glass of red; every seat taken and a buzz already in the air; realising that people I didn’t recognise were nudging their neighbours as I walked by; realising that people I hadn’t seen in 10, 20, even 30 years had come into town on a dark night in February to support me.
So many hugs. So much laughter. And then my beloved English teacher standing by my side saying Well Done.
I felt enormous gratitude.
I felt loved.
And, at last, I felt a great wave of excitement.
Oddly, the relief was there before I even stood up to speak. I knew myself that I was already over the hardest part. John Breen introduced Gráinne Murphy and Gráinne introduced me. They warmed up the crowd and my heart.
The speech went by in a blur of kind, smiling faces.
Before I knew what was happening, I was seated at a table signing books. There was a queue! People were so lovely! I felt incredibly privileged. I felt lucky.
And then, after the crowd had melted away, after the chairs were stacked and the family photos were taken, John Breen handed me a mug with a picture of Waterstones, Cork on it.
‘The shop mug,’ he said. ‘Every author gets one.’
And I felt absolutely, fecking delighted.
(c) Lynda Marron
Author photograph (c) Alice Carina
About Last Chance in Paris by Lynda Marron:
When her husband suggests a romantic break, Claire feels obliged to say yes but immediately regrets it. After the tragedy they’ve been through, how can one weekend in Paris save their marriage?
Claire and Ronan aren’t the only people on a make-or-break visit to the City of Love. There is a big-shot movie producer from Hollywood, full of regret for a life ill-lived; a student from Boston, torn between love and duty; a Ukrainian refugee struggling to protect her little sister; and an old woman from Dijon, hoping to be braver than she has ever had to be before.
When their lives briefly intertwine, something extraordinary happens…
Order your copy online here.
