Everything I learned while writing a memoir in Paris

Number one, we are ALL writers.

Paris is in full bloom. The last time you heard from me, it was approaching, but today I can tell you that Spring has officially arrived. The Changement d’heure (Daylight Saving) took place this past weekend, so we have longer days to enjoy the blooms! Paris is perfectly lavish with lime green leaves and plenty of pink and white! Welcome Avril.

This April marks an important date. One year ago this month, my memoir The French Ingredient was published. On April 9th, 2024, it was on sale at bookstores.

I never thought I would be an author, and I blushed when I thought of myself as a writer—but then one day (I cannot tell you when or how), I realized I am a writer. And you are, too. We all are.

Merriam Webster defintion of a write : one that writes.

Like you, I have many layers—none of us is one-dimensional. In honor of Spring, let’s use a flower analogy: A flower is comprised of many petals, and each little petal contributes to the whole. Those many petals make a flower beautiful, just like our many petals (layers) make us beautiful.

The magical thing is that you can decide how many petals you wish to have.

And last I checked, those flower petals don’t have names or labels; they are simply a part of the flower. So, as imperfect as my writing may be, I still consider it one of my little petals.

Let’s file that under one of the many things we can learn from nature. Labels are excellent for filing cabinets. For people, not so much.

Can you imagine roses with just one petal?

Yet, ever so often, we let these silly labels define us…or worse, we deny ourselves the right to use the labels we feel we are not entitled to.

But when it comes to being a “writer," we all are writers. If you breathe and eat, you are a breather and an eater. If you write, you are a writer. Whether or not you choose to publish your work for others is another question (and by the way, you don’t need a traditional publisher to do that).

Speaking of Published Work…

I wrote a piece for Airmail, the online publication, about my experience writing a book in Paris.

Before I embarked on the journey, I had romanticized it into this beret-wearing, red-lipstick, beatnik type of experience. Spoiler: It wasn’t. The closest I got to my Gertrude Stein or Ernest Hemingway moment was writing in a poorly lit bar (that I credit to my needing glasses today) with a glass of wine in hand…sometimes with a plate of fries. Needless to say, it was not as romantic as I had hoped. And not only did it fail to be romantic, but it proved hard…very hard.

“Writing a book is a cruel and unusual, yet beautifully rewarding, journey. I suffered greatly while writing my new book, The French Ingredient, a memoir about opening a cooking school in France. My suffering was amplified because I had to write the damn thing in Paris.”

The article is behind a paywall, aptly filed under the “The Tortured-Writers Department.” You can read the full, article here.

But the point is that I put so many expectations (and labels) on what I thought writing a book in Paris would be like that they couldn’t possibly live up to reality. I also started to feel the weight of all the literary greats who have written books in Paris—Moliere, Victor Hugo, Gertrude Stein, to name a few. I worked myself into a frenzy worrying that people expect great things from those who write in Paris. And no, I don’t regularly put myself in the same category as those folks, which shows you its absurdity.

Long story short, I never managed to don my beret or wear red lipstick while pecking out pages and pages of prose. Doing something new was scary, and somehow I made it even more terrifying for myself when I didn’t need to. I would have been much happier had I expected (and accepted) that it would be imperfect, messy, frustrating, and nothing like I imagined.

I would have had a great time had I known that the most delicious part of writing a book is the adventure of it.

Speaking of adventures…

My greatest adventure was learning about myself and the power of sharing one’s story—the good and bad, the highs and lows, the messy reality of life. Along the way, I learned I am not a classic writer - it’s not my job, but I also learned that it’s something I love.

Lessons I learned from writing a memoir:

1. Whatever you think writing a memoir will look like, abandon it. And frankly, abandon yourself at the same time. Good memoir writing (IMHO) feels like one of those dreams (I’m hoping I’m not the only one who has had these) where you show up somewhere without clothes. You have to get comfortable with feeling awkward and vulnerable. And that is hard, especially when the world is watching.

2. Writing can steal your confidence, but it will slowly give it back. A while back, I told you that France stole my confidence but returned it in a softer form. Writing hasn’t fully returned my confidence yet - we are still negotiating. The only way I can continue the negotiation to win back some of my confidence is to keep writing - and keep accepting the imperfection.

3. Writing can save you. During COVID, I turned to writing as a distraction when everything felt out of control. It gave me an anchor to keep me steady. But that same anchor would sink me from time to time. I’d reread my work, thinking I was so poetic, only to find my punctuation, grammar, and even the point of what I was saying had vanished into thin air. That’s just normal - it’s called the messy first draft.

4. Writing is an unhealthy relationship with the Gods of Penmanship (similar to my relationship with Paris sometimes.) You can love it deeply, but in return, it can, on a whim, treat you like crap. One day, your words and ideas flow onto paper like a crisp mountain stream. You are on cloud nine. The next day? Poof! Out of the blue, the stream runs dry. The gods have entirely abandoned you, leaving you sitting there for hours desperately hoping for a flicker of inspiration. And then, out of the blue, they reappear and you drop everything and run into their arms, knowing it is a matter of time before they ghost you again. But even if they take off on you, you still continue to show up, knowing the good times will return. Perseverance is the point.

5. Writing a memoir made me question why I dared to. With any critical decision, asking why—I mean, really why—is crucial. Only when I got clear on that question did I feel like I could write freely. Writing a memoir may seem out of character for someone as private as me, but ultimately, it became bigger than me.

6. Writing reminded me how many kind and generous people are out there. I am forever grateful to the independent book stores that hosted me, friends with stores that welcomed me, and friends who continued to check in on me. And then, thanks to my writing, I have made so many new friends in the past year! I don’t get to hug much in France, but this past year, I’ve had hundreds of hugs from strangers. And nothing like a good hug reminds you that we aren’t strangers after all.

7. Writing a memoir unlocked another love—the love of public speaking. Not because I love talking about myself, or because I want to talk about Paris (you can find a ton of that already). But because I know this is OUR shared story. A story of persevering, a story of pushing through your insecurities, a story of trying to believe in yourself when you don’t, a story of falling down hundreds of times and still daring to get up. A story of working to turn differences into strengths - I could go on. I just tried to put it on paper so we can both remind ourselves that we can do tough things. And yes, peppered throughout the story are insights into this marvelous culture I learn about daily.

8. Writing reminded me that the ‘best way’ is whatever works for me. I never had a so-called ‘writing practice’ (whatever that even means). And I’m done with wishing I could do things a certain way. Now, I am learning to work with who I am - scattered, thinking a thousand things at once, and somewhat undisciplined. I did a lot of ‘writing’ when walking, so I always have a journal and often use Voice Memos. And yes, coffee, wine with fries, and the rare dirty martini helped.

9. Writing my memoir reminded me that I have a few other petals in my flower. It showed me that I am someone else besides ‘Jane with a business in Paris.’ For that, I am forever grateful.

Nothing like a gloomy day in Paris to get you writing. Coffee in the morning, Wine (and fries) in the afternoon!

Speaking of someone else…

I hope this newsletter prompts someone out there to say, “What the heck, if that gal who wasn’t a ‘writer’ can write a book, then I can do XYZ.” Nothing would make me prouder.

You inspire others when you dare to do something different. It’s a sweet victory when you prove the naysayers wrong, especially when the biggest naysayer is yourself. When you dare to do something different, you become that lighthouse that someone can look to, a beacon in the dark that shows them that anything is possible.

And that’s what we all need these days—not inspiration from celebrities or influencers, but from each other, from people in our communities who are pushing past their limits, stepping into the unknown, and showing what’s possible.

Your actions…and words are so powerful.

Where French words are born

Speaking of Words…

You’ve seen and most likely taken a photo of that beautiful building just at the end of Pont des Arts…in front of the Louvre. It is the Académie Française. It is the authority for all matters of the French language.

The Académie was officially established in 1635 by Cardinal Richelieu, the chief minister of King Louis XIII at that time. The Académie comprises forty members, known as les immortels (the immortals), and their job is to govern the words we use and publish an official dictionary of the French language.

Seeing this care and dedication to words reminds me of the gift we have in using them—the gift of writing.

And the gifts are many, but to highlight a few:

1. Science has proven the many benefits of writing. It activates multiple brain regions associated with language, memory, and cognition. Creative writing has been linked to improved brain function and mental sharpness - and boy oh boy, I can use as much of that as I can get my hands on.

2. Writing makes you choose your words carefully. Wouldn’t we all be better off if we considered our words and their impact on others? Especially in times like these, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we carefully chose our words to unite rather than separate?

3. Writing will give you a voice. For a long time—fourteen years—my business was my voice. Writing has allowed me to be myself and share my story separately from my business. Writing will create a beautiful and necessary chasm for those whose entire identity is entwined with ‘what they do’ (owner of X business, etc.) rather than ‘who they are’.

The list of gifts goes on, but there is one that keeps on giving…

Speaking of gifts…

My greatest gift to date is YOU. Writing has given me you!

Somehow, my daring to write, as scary as it is, has connected us. It has made us a community. You showing up to read means that I will show up to write. You have given me accountability and consistency. You have given me permission to speak my mind. So, actually, writing didn’t give me my voice - you did. And what a beautiful gift - thank you!

Now, just imagine what you might do for someone else if you dared to step outside your comfort zone. You’ve already inspired me to keep writing - who else might you inspire by letting them see you dare to try something different?

So, thanks to writing - and to you - I feel like I’m blooming into a new version of myself, with yet another petal.

While I would love you to write, for yourself or others, the most important thing is that I would love you to do something new and different. Something that will dazzle and surprise you, and remind you of how wonderfully complex and layered you are, just like that beautiful rose pictured above.

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A prompt I’ll leave you with:

What other petals will you dare to add to your flower?

With that, see you next time. Á bientôt mes amis.

Jane

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A last few things:

Where I love to shop in Paris for my writing swag:

Mélodie Graphiques: It’s a fairy tale of a store for all your writing needs.

BHV Marais Department store: Almost an entire floor dedicated to crafts and writing. You’ll love it.

Join me in Paris:

My GenerateHER retreats are live! I am so excited to host the next sessions this autumn!

Join me on my podcast:

I publish an episode each week. I’d love it if you listened to it and let me know what you think! You can find more here.

Join me in reading:

I’m loving this book - I love anything psychology-related. And who among us isn’t always trying to find happiness?

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