Author Archives: emmacalin

Ordeal By Pagan Passion

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Wednesday, the day of Wodin, the most powerful of the Norse gods. Who could feel secure on a Wodinsday? I guess I could just hang about to see if I could get selected as a Valkyrie since I’ve had rejections slips from the other big six publishing gods. 

But even more worrying is the pagan ordeal that lies ahead. Rather than diving down to collect dead warriors on my horse, all I have to do is meet the book buying public. They will be able to poke and question me. They will be able to mock my prose and ask me to expose my purple literary cellulite. Writing of love and passion in the warm air of France with a glass of wine, responding to the remembered thrill of new love and a view of a muscular sun bronzed young man forking his harvest is easy. Presenting my somewhat experienced and time washed persona to the masses is NOT.  All the same, I have signed up to attend the Festival of Romance in the historic city of Bedford, UK. I just know I can do it….

The good news for all you scribes out there is that if you are not already a block busting mega stegosaurus you can enter their New Talent competition. Check out the details below.


New Talent Award aims to uncover romantic fiction authors of the future
The Festival of Romance is delighted to announce that the New Talent Award will run again this year. The industry judges are Georgina Hawtrey-Woore senior editor at Cornerstones, Random House and Diane Banks, literary agent at the Diane Banks Associates Literary Agency. The Festival of Romance New Talent Award aims to cast a spotlight on the authors of tomorrow and is open to all writers who have not yet had a book commercially published. Writers may submit the opening chapter (up to 3,500 words) of a romantic novel of any type by 30th September 2012. The winner and runners-up will be announced and presented with trophies at the gala Festival of Romance Awards on Friday 16th November 2012. There is a small entry fee to cover the award administration. Entrants may also gain a critique of their entry written by a professional novelist.
“As part of the Festival of Romance we want to help new writers with talent get their break into the commercial fiction world,” says Kate Allan, chief romantic at the Festival of Romance. “At the Festival of Romance in November we are running writing workshops, an industry conference and chance to meet publishers face to face as well as the New Talent Award. I’m delighted that Georgina Hawtrey-Woore and Diane Banks have agreed to judge this year’s entries.”
Winner of the 2011 New Talent Award Henriette Gyland subsequently garnered a book deal from publishers Choc Lit. Her debut novel Up Close will be published in December 2012.
For more details about how to enter the New Talent Award please see www.festivalofromance.co.uk
Anyway, here I am back in the UK. I’m trying to drive on the left 

and live without plat cote de boeuf cooked in a full bodied red. I 

had severe warm baguette withdrawal symptoms this morning. It is 

tough but I’m coping.



Emma thinx:  Never stop doing within what you can’t do without.



A Life In Harness

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Ding bloody dong

Finally the hands of the church clock are counting down the last hours of my freedom in my wonderful home in France. The U.K school bus awaits my tender touch. The final apero hour with neighbours approaches. Starlings click and whistle their autumn castle tower census. Why do they gather up into flocks like this? Is it just to count each other? Is it to see who has the most iridescent show off feathers?

OK, I know my life is wonderful and undeserved. Millions of folk live short lives and find no reward, let alone a proper diet. We all want more I guess.

Lucky the blinkers hid the romantic novelist rolling on the ground.

My last postcard from the paradise of Saint Savinien Sur Charente embodies my own sentiments as I return to toil. Because of the narrow streets and alleys, the bin trucks are of little use. The answer is simple and noble. You use a horse. A couple of days ago as I went to the boulangerie, I came across a beautiful grey mare pulling the town refuse trailer. I asked the driver for his name and he told me in French style “She is female.” Well, to honest, I had not inspected the gender department of the beast for fear of being over inquisitive. The driver understood my Anglo Cavalleria Rusticana ignorance and told me the name which was something like “Chiche-Noix”. I did not like to ask again and in any case they clip clopped off into the distance. If you look at the photos you will also the bin man’s mate who is a dog. I did not ask for its name but a working title is Fido. 

He is a She Madame!


Does anyone actually call their dog Fido?

It was a beautiful morning and a lovely sight. The beast only does two days a week and I did not ask if he closes down every day for a three hour lunch. I hope he does!

And on the subject of long lunches, Anglo-Americano Shoppers will thrill to the news that more and more French supermarkets are staying open all day. If you hate crowded shops; go at lunch time. The only customers will be Brits. The check-out girls all look like they have lost the will to live and cluster at the end of the tills for a kind of low calorie chat-lunch. I think they should return to the proper French lunch break. Anyway – who needs all this stuff?


Emma thinx: There’s no such thing as a free lunch, but there’s still liberty at lunchtime.






















Night Time Post Card from Saint Savinien

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I’m still here in my beloved Saint Savinien Sur Charente. I know that beyond my time horizon lurks the cold darkness of the British winter. The swallows almost hovered in my face today as I walked up the narrow road past the castle. A journey lies ahead for them and now they must risk and gorge to put in the calories that will sustain their fragile lives on their pitiless migration south. I do know profoundly that all for my huff and puff, one of their lives values no less than mine and I have lived and gorged for so long.


I am posting a few pictures of the town at night. The Mayor, Monsieur Godineau, has pushed through a massive project to turn the town into something of a unique spectacle. I always have an admiration for folks who can do this kind of thing. Take a look and judge for yourselves.

As a writer, I guess that the thing I admire most about writing is a book that makes me forget about writing. I have just finished reading “Rebels On the Mountain” by Jack Durish. It is a ripping yarn about adventures during the Cuban revolution, a love story, a deeply educational piece of history and beautifully written and researched. To save repeating myself, here is my full Amazon review.

I have no hesitation at giving this book five stars. It is one of those stories that gives you a fix of everything. Having been born too late to be aware of the Cuban Revolution and all that followed it, I found this book to be educational and fascinating. Clearly the narrative owes a lot to careful research and also the military experience of the author. Beyond history, there is the fleshing out of historical figures and of course a part for Ernest Hemingway. In amongst all of this is a strong love story of Nick and Lucia set against the background of the period and confronting racial attitudes of the time. As I reached the last words of the book and I began to think of the review, I realised that I had hardly noticed that I had been reading and had not paused to take note of the style. The book romps along and reads itself as it goes. Whether it is an adventure, romance, history or everything combined, it was a joy to read.

Here are the links:



Emma thinx: Labour bears fruit, but not always the juice. 


























Flower Power

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I cycled through empty untroubled roads from Saint Savinien to the nearby town of St.Jean D’Angely. The cereal harvest is in and ricks of straw create a temporary landmarks of corner and shadow. In France, when a field is fallow, self-seeded wild flowers are allowed to bloom. Just imagine if we left people fallow now and then and let them bloom! 


This truly is a wonderful land where growing things grow and grow as if with joy to be pushing up and yelling out their beauty. So, I’m putting up some flower power pix to pass on their cavalcade of ecstasy. 

In the town I saw a young guy making a film. Being the nosey old moo that I am, I went and asked him what was going on. It turned out that he was a Brit doing a promo for the village and its attractions. We had a bit of a chat and he told me he had just finished a music video for a fantastic yet unsigned group from North Carolina called “Steel Standing”. It seems there is some competition to choose the best edit. Anyway, I checked out his film.  The music has stuck in my head and is driving me crazy because I keep singing it (wrongly I think). The problem is that on first hearing I thought the lyric went “A naked man is on this train and I don’t think that I can make it through….” Have a listen and see what you think. If you like the show please click the LIKE button and help out all these young folk. Do you ever get song lyrics wrong? Does anyone ever get them totally right?

Emma thinx: Will the flowers always bloom their forgiveness?


Colin and Coline

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Colin (wearing the rings) and Coline in post coital pose

Anyone who read my recent post about the lost racing pigeon must be wondering what has happened since. The first thing is that I named the pigeon Colin because French for a dove is une colombe. I am sure that Colin is English because he’s got that kind of sandals and socks Brit abroad look about him. 

Fellow bird lovers – I have great news. Colin has found Coline, a young local pigeon who was born here last year. Today, I spotted them shagging on a 15th century rafter in my barn. My guess is that pigeons have bobbed, cooed and spread their feathers in a mating flap on that beam since the time of “Green Gallant” king of France Henry IV.

A bird called Colin


At first it was just regular cooing but you get to know the sounds of love when you hang about in old French barns. So, I climbed up with my camera to be certain that it was indeed Colin. In the end I managed to get a shot of his rings, which of course, are not worn by local peasants. It looks to me as if he’s gonna  see out his mortal span in Saint Savinien. And I sure don’t blame him! Somewhere in’t north of England, a pigeon fancier is scanning the darkening dusk willing his bird to clock in. Colin shrugs and shags.

Now, I am a francofilly if ever there was one. All the same, I’m not sure that they always drive as safely and wisely as possible….need I say more? A couple of days ago I was on my bike in a nearby town and spotted the driver of a car about to pull off. It’s all done by smell…..


Emma thinx: When you get tired of flying – wing it.











The Fatkins Diet

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Titanic cheese about to strike apple-berg

Ok – I’m a bit of a mug sometimes. I do so want to be nice and kind to everyone….(Well, let’s leave my ex husband’s mother out of this. Actually, once I found I could sweeten her up by sitting her down with a lemon to suck we got on quite well). 

I went to La Foire Aux Vins in my home of Saint Savien. This is a kind of wine tasting hard-sell for people who know far more about wine than me. In addition to wine, there is cheese. Yes Gromit; cheese! Now everyone knows about cheese don’t they. It is that slimming product famous for being the perfect companion to Cognac or a glass of heart saving vin rouge. 

So lovely I could cry….and I do!
O! live live live

The wonderful peasant Fromagesse (don’t worry, I made it up) behind the stall counter placed her revolutionary French guillotine  tool on a block of cheese which looked like it had once been the corner stone of the Roman Empire. First she indicated a possible chunk of about the size of Scotland, but I realised that the Romans had been so terrified of their untethered skirt covered ginger genitals, they actually built a wall to keep them out. 

Little by little she placed her blade on smaller and smaller chunks until it was about the size of The Titanic. I nodded agreement, feeling so mean and unkind that I only wanted such a small sliver. She reminded me that this was genuine cheese made from the milk of magical mountain top cows who would only release the gold of their udders for re-sale to a woman of the finest beauty and taste. Hmm – lucky I showed up! 

I plucked up courage to ask what it was. She drew a deep breath and uttered the magic word “Cantal” and I recoiled in puzzlement, handed over 30 Euros and staggered on clutching my brick of magical mountain cholesterol. Luckily I was able to purchase a decent brandy to accompany it so that the alcohol will wipe out any ill effects. To balance the whole matter I bought a selection of goat, donkey and wild boar sausage. I’m gonna call it the Fatkins diet.

Village des fleurs et du ciel, Utter utter JOY!


Seriously though, my fellow bon viveurs, France is the place for flavour and savour. To convince you of the absolute need you have in your life to come to Saint Savinien Sur Charente I’m posting a few photos today to show you what you are missing. Bon Apetit mes amis.

Old goats still make a stiff sausage


Before I go I must share with you a complaint about the standard of modern spelling and grammar. A fine upstanding gentleman has taken the trouble to ask me on Facebook if I wish to see his very large Denis. Seemingly my new profile picture has interested him enough to dub me as “Senior but Sexy”. He is obviously a very inexperienced young man because ladies of my age know only too well that senior IS sexy. I’m sure that given time, his friend Denis will develop enough shades of grey to play in the senior leagues.

Emma thinx: Take the die out of diet and it’s time for tea.










Mon Ami Le Pigeon Voyageur

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What else is there to share with friends than the moment? Anything longer is contrived.

Homing pigeon – you can just see the leg ring on the right.

This evening in my French garden a lost homing pigeon has arrived and is perching on a beam in the barn. I guess by his accent he is English. Every few minutes he takes off and circles the town before being drawn back by some invisible magnet as sticky as the human soul to the beam in my barn. He/she is lost and miles from home. Maybe in the dawn the bird will find the way or maybe it will die, confused and alone. 


This life is a concoction of unseen beauty and unacknowledged suffering. Fly little bird. Please find your way home.




Emma thinx: Home – what the homeless have not. 

A Life On The Tiles

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My Life on the tiles in deepest France

Summertime and the living is easy. Oh yes – you can’t keep a good old hedonist down. Someone – take command, put away the sun, chain me to the desk, hide the oysters and the scent of roses on the Quai des Fleurs. Flatten the surf, sour the wine, give me guilt without guilty pleasure. I suppose I could see it all as research particularly when it’s the first Wednesday and time for the Insecure Writers Support Group.


Well, perhaps it will be cloudy tomorrow. If something does not intervene then this is how things will end, in the late warm air from the South, glass raised to the moon in the dark star stabbed sky. 
There are mosquitoes, cellulite and sunburn of course. I think this is the path to tread back to work. I have been writing a fairy story in the way that hedonist romantics write – kinda in the head a bit. It will hit the page today I promise.

So, pretty insecure I guess and made even worse by the book I’m reading. It has galloped off like a full frontal sexy romance which had me considering what time I could get my man to bed. There’s only one problem – the author is a bloke, un homme, a guy. Yes, it looks like the old monopoly might be slipping away. Now THAT does make me feel insecure. Better double up on the wine and chocolate – just to get some extra passion in the mix. The book is “The Gaze” by Javier A. Robayo.  I’ll just have to finish it and the sun is warm on the Terrasse. As soon as I’m feeling secure enough I’ll post a review. I think it will be hot.

Emma thinx: You get more sex out of a good book than there is in it. 


Love a Happy Knockout

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A quick Hi to anyone coming to my blog from Love a Happy Ending. com who are featuring “Knockout” today. 


If you are trying to answer the question to have a go at winning a copy of “Knockout” here are a couple of clues. Recently I had to go to a hospital with my sick knee. By chance I saw an anagram of the answer on one of those notice boards that convince you that you have about ten diseases. It read “No More TB”.


Alternately you can look up my Kreativ Blogger Award post and learn a few other secrets as well. 


Answers by e-mail please to emmacalin @ hotmail . com


The draw will be on 5th August. Good luck.


Emma thinx: Luck is a cat. Love is a dog. Both can bite.



Для всех моих друзей в России

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OK – I’m showing off again. I bet no one thought I was fluent in Russian – well Google translation is as close as I can get. The title line should translate as “For all my friends in Russia”. I do not know who they are but there are hundreds of them logging on to my blog and I have no idea why Comrades. So dear Russians – I love you all and special love will go to any one adding a comment from Russia. 

Reach for the skies

I am on holiday so I am writing this blog on my terrasse. In fact I find myself sitting idly on my terrasse more and more. As the sun dries my skin I will soon look like a remake of Terrassic Park. And yes- there are real lizards in the dry stone wall. As temperatures zoom towards the melting point of foie gras I’m just gonna post a few photos from around the gorgeous undiscovered town of Saint Savinien Sur Charente. I cannot believe my good fortune at living here. Of course, les tournesols are grown as a commercial crop – it does not seem possible that they turn out millions of Van Gogh masterpieces just so that you can fry a perfect frite to go with your moules. But they do. 

If I had ever doubted that this place is in fact paradise, I must confess to a moment of religious experience a couple of days ago. I had put some left over chocolate sauce in the fridge and someone had seen it and dipped in a finger. The following morning the sauce had set, revealing the true nature of the Universe – Love and Chocolate. Just at that moment the church bells started to ring and a cockerel crowed while a neighbour’s dog howled at the bells. All of Nature gelled as one. Not since I was a teenager and saw the face of Marc Bolan in a cloud had I felt this close to The Infinite.И так до свидания моих русских читателей.




Emma thinx:  Man cultivates. Nature culminates.