A world too wide

People who write a lot, end up writing about writing. They shouldn’t. They should simply serve up what they’ve done and wait, wincing in anticipation of the hammer-blows.

I truly enjoyed putting together the short story about Germany. In commenting Julia seemed to know more than I did when she said “Please write more in this series.” Well, a nod’s as good as wink to a blind horse and although I had no series in mind I needed no more encouragement. I decided to write another and I’ve just finished it.

But I need to explain. I have this secret love for Germany, a country I used to visit regularly but which I haven’t been to for over a decade. My love for France is more open, I blather about it. The second story is about France.

I’ve packed in a lot of stuff. About the French language (round which the story revolves), about French attitudes, the way the French do things, and about the way Brits and Frogs misunderstand each other. There’s a hero, a heroine and action. Some bits are genuinely original I think: one bit consists of a problem I deliberately set myself in order that I might solve it. Writers do things like that.

But there’s a problem. The German story, tightly constructed, almost a series of telegrams, ran to 2100 words – just about OK for a post. The French story is 5500 words, far, far too long for a blog post. Cut it? I’m not the final arbiter but it isn’t padded.

I had thought of posting the first 2000 words and ending with: Does anyone think this worth continuing? Seeing what happened. I must say my bowels loosen at the prospect. Hence this rather cowardly post.