{"id":43556,"date":"2024-05-19T06:35:10","date_gmt":"2024-05-19T10:35:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/?p=43556"},"modified":"2026-06-24T10:28:30","modified_gmt":"2026-06-24T14:28:30","slug":"to-write-everyday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/ecrire-chaque-jour\/","title":{"rendered":"To write every day"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"wp-block-group is-layout-constrained wp-block-group-is-layout-constrained\">\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The snow has melted, the cold weather has turned mild and the grass is getting greener by the day. This morning, I even saw a few ants in a single file climbing onto my porch. I\u2019m hungry, I\u2019m thirsty, I open the door to the kitchen and a few gusts of warmth, a few bursts of happiness enter. I make myself comfortable to write at my large kitchen table, I type a few sentences and my fingers awaken. Two, three, five pages are darkened as I finish my first cups of coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It\u2019s quite something to see winter yield its place to summer! I must have been 5 or 6 when Dad said that in 50 years\u2019 time Gasp\u00e9sie would be as hot as California. Really? Will I live long enough to burn my toes on the asphalt in January?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Last night I read that writing\u2019s therapeutic virtues have a positive influence on women\u2019s moods. What do I know? I\u2019m so old now. My only medicine consists of encapsulating my words in ink, and I indulge to excess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">At the coffee shop the other day, a young woman declared that writing leads nowhere. Maybe she\u2019s right. I earned a living by cooking and serving amazing breakfasts, but today, I write and will never stop because it feeds my happiness. Writing is an exquisite dessert for my life. Yesterday, a strawberry cr\u00eape, this afternoon a pistachio cake and tomorrow, my favourite apple pie brushed with sugar fudge sauce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The young woman drones on:<br>\u2014 \u201cWhat purpose does it serve, to fill pages with ink all day long? Couldn\u2019t you travel? Visit Spain, the Eiffel Tower or Venice and its magnificent gondolas and caf\u00e9s, Murano Island and its glass-blowing artisans? Haven\u2019t you said it all in the last 4 years?,\u201d continues the rude woman, raising her brows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u2014 \u201cWhat\u2019s motivating you to keep typing words in a caf\u00e9 instead of being outdoors feeling spring\u2019s warm breezes? Time is flying away and you, dear Cora, are writing, typing and aging. You incessantly start a new story. You sieve, you brew, you invent a plot, a few characters and an ending that\u2019ll look like a new beginning!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Clearly this young woman is a loathsome inquisitor who has no love for words! Doubt overcomes me. What a misfortune it would be if I became an empty well! I\u2019m not hurting anyone by putting all this ink to the page. I ponder for a moment, reach into my bag and hand her the last copy of my book. The woman seems surprised, but at last, she falls silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Tonight, at my large kitchen table, I\u2019m writing again. Who else could describe winter\u2019s tears falling onto the spring\u2019s warm soil as I do? I type until the clock passes midnight when, suddenly, I see a small mouse coming out of a cupboard. I follow it with my eyes. It runs across the floor under the table, along the wall, enters the living room and hides under the red sofa. I\u2019m so terrified of mice and here I am, all alone in this big house! I calm myself, sit back down and think. I invent a new paragraph. A path in the middle of the forest with century-old trees and a carpet of lily-of-the-valley shoots. In the largest oak tree there\u2019s a huge hole, a refuge for my family of mice. I feed them fine cheeses, and they forget all about my home address.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I never tire from chasing an inexhaustible vein of ideas. I skip a line, finish a page, I\u2019m always eager to start a new letter. This childlike pleasure in threading words one after the other reminds me of my brother when he was little, the tireless marble player. Focused so completely on his game, he would be absolutely still before throwing the coloured glass bead as far as possible. Like him, I stop, think, invent and cast my words. I draw strength from the sap of trees to build my castles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">I laugh, I cry, my emotions often all simmering together. I strive to embellish my world and the thousands of birds that land on my lines, on my words, in my stories and in my heart. My motivation to keep writing is this: a copious capacity to keep moving forward, to go further, to dig deep into the soul of the world scattered within each and every one of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Am I the woman I would have liked to be at 20?<br>My heart wide open, my eyes so green,<br>Blue waves, fish discussing among themselves?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Cora<br>\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The snow has melted, the cold weather has turned mild and the grass is getting greener by the day. This morning, I even saw a few ants in a single file climbing onto my porch. I\u2019m hungry, I\u2019m thirsty, I open the door to the kitchen and a few gusts of warmth, a few bursts of happiness enter. I make myself comfortable to write at my large kitchen table, I type a few sentences and my fingers awaken. Two, three, five pages are darkened as I finish my first cups of coffee. It\u2019s quite something to see winter yield its place to summer! I must have been 5 or 6 when Dad said that in 50 years\u2019 time Gasp\u00e9sie would be as hot as California. Really? Will I live long enough to burn my toes on the asphalt in January? Last night I read that writing\u2019s therapeutic virtues have a positive influence on women\u2019s moods. What do I know? I\u2019m so old now. My only medicine consists of encapsulating my words in ink, and I indulge to excess. At the coffee shop the other day, a young woman declared that writing leads nowhere. Maybe she\u2019s right. I earned a living by cooking and serving amazing breakfasts, but today, I write and will never stop because it feeds my happiness. Writing is an exquisite dessert for my life. Yesterday, a strawberry cr\u00eape, this afternoon a pistachio cake and tomorrow, my favourite apple pie brushed with sugar fudge sauce. The young woman drones on:\u2014 \u201cWhat purpose does it serve, to fill pages with ink all day long? Couldn\u2019t you travel? Visit Spain, the Eiffel Tower or Venice and its magnificent gondolas and caf\u00e9s, Murano Island and its glass-blowing artisans? Haven\u2019t you said it all in the last 4 years?,\u201d continues the rude\u2026<\/p>","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":43557,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"La neige fond et le printemps revient : Mme Cora raconte pourquoi elle \u00e9crit chaque jour et ce que cette habitude lui apporte.","_seopress_robots_index":"","_seopress_robots_follow":"","_seopress_robots_imageindex":"","_seopress_robots_snippet":"","_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_robots_breadcrumbs":"","_seopress_robots_freeze_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_custom_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_canonical":"","_seopress_social_fb_title":"","_seopress_social_fb_desc":"","_seopress_social_fb_img":"","_seopress_social_fb_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_height":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_title":"","_seopress_social_twitter_desc":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_height":0,"_seopress_redirections_value":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled_regex":"","_seopress_redirections_logged_status":"","_seopress_redirections_param":"","_seopress_redirections_type":0,"_seopress_analysis_target_kw":"","_seopress_news_disabled":"","_seopress_video_disabled":"","_seopress_video":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas_manual":[],"_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable_all":"","_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas":[],"footnotes":""},"categories":[42],"class_list":["post-43556","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"blocksy_meta":{"styles_descriptor":{"styles":{"desktop":"","tablet":"","mobile":""},"google_fonts":[],"version":8}},"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43556","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/414"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=43556"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/43556\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/43557"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=43556"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chezcora.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=43556"}],"curies":[{"name":"WP","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}