‘Virginie, you are being ridiculous!’ Fred exclaimed across the table. Next to him, Georgie was nodding vehemently at his words.
I had just finished my first novel. It was ready for publishing after the editor had reviewed my work and now, for promotional purposes, I was told to be actively present on the web and actively participate to forums and social platforms, the like of Twitter, LinkedIn and Facebook. Also, I had to start blogging. The later made me wince, and that reaction was the source of Fred’s outburst.
Don’t take me wrong, I like blogs, they make for a large variety of eclectic and unexpected readings. What I fear is having one of my own. Not because of the writing, to the contrary: writing is a passion, an urge I cannot and do not want resist! I have no hesitation to launch myself into writing novels and scripts; my long emails and texts messages to friends border the anti-social in this modern age when abbreviations are taking over written communication.
Yet the thought of blogging and writing articles left me with a knot in the stomach. Why the fear? Because I love and respect English, and because I cannot shake the feeling that my use of it is good but – well – imperfect. As a book author, my work is scanned by the eagle eyes of a copy-editor who will smooth out those odd little sentences that do not sound right or too foreign to me – in brief, he eliminates what I refer to as my Frenchism. But there is no editor’s check on my own blog, and so I have kept postponing the inevitable: the first post on my website. It feels like body-jumping.
‘V, you are missing the point here. We love your Frenchism,’ Georgie commented.
‘It is not proper English though, and you are my friends,’ I argued. ‘I do not want to disrespect a language I admire and write poor texts, either in form or content. The content is a question of point of view and that’s another matter, but any mistakes made on the form within a blog is unacceptable to me. What type of English writer would I be if the readers frown at my turn of phrase?’
Fred took a deep breath and grabbed my arm to make sure he had all my attention. His reasoning was that an unusual foreign ring did not stop my English being a proper one. The quality of my written English had impressed professionals who had read my work. What more could I ask for?
Fred and Georgie were right, I was not writing to compete as the next Dickens, Shakespeare or to be a symbol of English literature. I was writing to share stories, to pass on messages, to fuel and free imaginations. I wanted to transport people to other worlds and realms and could only do so in my own voice – spoken or written. Intrinsically, it was with an accent. The little differences in my style and thinking are what make my work original. Some people will like it, some people will not. So be it. The best is most often not in the perfection and in following every norms and customs of the language, it is in the unique that stands out.
So it is time to get over my fears and write my first post. Though I will do my best to be not to invent words (at least not too many), my work will simply remain true to my paper-voice, one with a French twist to it.
Welcome to my blog.
Thank you for reading.