Before I traveled to Paris, I wondered what it was about the city of lights that so intrigued authors and stimulated so much writing for hundreds of years. But after visiting, the mystery eluded me no longer. Paris is romantic. And I don’t mean it’s a great place to inspire love affairs and spark old flames, though it is. I mean romantic in the most prevailing way—mystical, exciting, exotic, fantastical. One can lose themselves in the narrow cobble-stoned side streets, the medieval architecture, the multitude of cafes and museums, the sparkling Eiffel Tower and the lights reflected on the flowing Seine. In Paris, there is endless inspiration.
This summer, for our 10th anniversary, my husband and I decided to take our first trip alone in eight years to Paris, the dreamiest place we could think of. Since we are both writers, I wanted to try to experience Paris the way ex-pat writers did back in the day. Of course, there were also a million other things we wanted to do. I realized that the best plan was to spend the morning writing in cafes and give our afternoons over to tourism. Continue Reading →