107 words from The Slave of Bracelets

107 words from The Slave of Bracelets, my Anaïs chapter from my novel Nights in Paris. Just think of it as an appetiser! (Or rather, as an amuse-bouche).

“Anais, I adore everything.” June shrugged off her cape and let it fall to the floor. Her nonchalance about her clothes only drew attention to them; to the flimsiness of her dress, which was no more than a violet nightgown made decent with a pearl brooch at the bosom. The silk clung to the outline of her breasts. She swayed around the room, admiring the collection of golden Turkish slippers, the old posters of goddesses advertising absinthe. I would like to drink absinthe with her, to smoke opium with her. I want to be obliterated, I want to drown myself in the irresponsible, impossible adoration of June.

I am recovering from the trauma of a computer hard-drive which broke on me, very inconveniently without any warning at all. Now I have a new one and am cautious about using it, I can’t stop worrying and pleading “please be okay, please be okay” at it! Oh the good ol’ days of reliable pen and paper, eh — but no delete, no word count, and no cut and paste either. I would have to write out each page ten times if I had to do it by hand — so maybe all this new-fangled technological palaver isn’t too bad…

I’m still researching for the Colette and Patricia chapters, both at the same time, which I probably shouldn’t, but I am so impatient to read about both of them that I can’t bear to choose who should go first.

I’ve made an exciting discovery: I’ve never read Colette’s “Dialogue des Bêtes” before, thinking it sounded silly, as it’s an imaginary conversation between her pets. I saw it at the library yesterday and decided I should give it at least a quick whizz-through, seeing as it’s the first piece of fiction she was allowed to publish under her own name. (The famous “Claudines” were first published under her husband’s name, in later editions under both their names, and only much later by herself). It is wonderful! So quirky and observant, and very funny. How could I have expected anything else from her? I feel ashamed of myself. So now I’m reading all the “animal” dialogues, and loving them.

Anaïs story wins a prize

The Slave of Bracelets, my Anaïs story adapted from my novel Nights in Paris, got third prize! But even better than being a finalist was the whole event: we were flown to Auckland and put up at a phenomenally posh hotel — what luxury, and what a wonderful treat!

I shook Helen Clark’s hand, which was great too, as I’ve always been a fan. She waved at me once about six years ago, but I didn’t ask if she remembered! (I was at the airport with some friends and we decided to wait and see who the limo was for. When we saw who it was we all waved like idiots, but she was kind enough to smile and wave back. It’s at times like this that you really know you’re in NZ — a PM in any other country wouldn’t even have noticed us.)

Before the ceremony there were gallons of champagne and piles of canapés, but I was far too nervous to drink more than half a glass in case I tripped over on the stage (I had heels on and I’m more of a Docs girl, so you can see the danger there) and I didn’t want to eat anything in case I spilt something down my shamelessly revealed cleavage.

I was ravenous AFTER the ceremony, and could happily have downed a whole vat of cham, but by then there was nothing left and it was time to go! Ah well, our hotel was nearby, with its glorious room service! The next day we had a wonderful time walking up and down Ponsonby Road, browsing in all the boutiques, and it was so sunny and warm and not windy — I love Wellington, but I had forgotten that windless days exist!

The Slave of Bracelets is also shortlisted for the Fish Historical Short Story award. Thank you, Anaïs! I really hope that you would have liked your story. I can imagine Anaïs saying: “Ouais, pas mal, mais plus érotique, Sarah, plus érotique”…. well, we’ll see!

I was telling a friend about my stories, how I really get into the characters so I can write as they would, and he said: “Isn’t that impersonation?” Gasp — certainly not! I think a far more elegant description would be to call it “literary acting”.

My Colette chapter is slowly taking shape; it can be so frustrating being at the beginning stage of a story, when you’re not sure the direction the story is going to go in. But that’s exciting too, knowing that the possibilities are only limited by your own imagination (talk about pressure!). So I’m letting myself just get into the character and write, without worrying about the plot. The narrative always seems to just come on its own, somehow.

My inspiration for the Anaïs story was the Henry and June soundtrack, and my muse for Colette is a photograph of her above my desk. She is dressed in drag, smoking, with her shockingly short hair (she was about 15 years’ ahead of her time) in a wild, unruly bob (like mine when it’s short). Colette has her head slightly to one side, and seems to look straight at me, saying “Vas-y, ma fille. Come on, my girl, you can do it.”