How to get back to writing when you lack the necessary motivation

As time passes I realize it is not about acing it but rather, it is about keeping yourself in the game no matter what. As long as you’re still in the game, you’re bound to win or at the very least learn why you didn’t. So below are a couple of rules that never fail to help me find the necessary motivation to keep writing. 

Face yourself

I used to feed myself a lot of bullshit about myself. I don’t anymore. Not because I don’t want to but because I don’t believe myself anymore. I have wised up in spite of myself. Plus my husband never fail to provide me with the necessary but much dreaded reality check. I had to face myself. I had to accept that I was this lazy person who could not commit to writing and kept lying to herself about not being able to commit. You know, just like an alcoholic claiming he/she can get by without attending AA meetings . Or better yet just like my husband claiming he’s only getting back on eBay to buy that one star wars action figure. He bought it and is still on eBay maybe now buying his 4th or 5th action figure….go figure. The minute I stopped believing my lies about myself,  things got better. Or course they got worse at the beginning. My pink and lilac dreams were shattered 🙂 But things got better in the end. I started seeing myself objectively. When you face yourself you can deal with yourself efficiently and prescribe a proper course of treatment. I sincerely wish there was a “delusional want-to-be writers anonymous”. I swear I’ d go to meetings.

Consider yourself a scientist

Except that you’re also the sole lab rat. You see whenever I used to promise myself to do something and fail to do so I would get discouraged, think I am doomed and give up. But now since I am a scientist on my own case, I press on. I conduct little experiments and I tell myself “Fabienne, you’ll keep trying until you succeed”. As an example, before my surgery I had my writing schedule all figured out (before February 2017). I wake up at 4:45, make coffee and starts writing at 5:00. And then I exercise at 6:00 o’clock sharp. Took three months off due to surgery and I found myself back to square one.

It was actually quite frustrating trying to get back to my old schedule and realizing it wasn’t working anymore. What happened I asked myself? Did I leave my ambition in the surgery room or what? I tried writing at night after work. Still to no avail. The minute I get home all I want to do is relax with dear husband. Still I carry on. Then it hit me that instead of coming home to write after work I could go somewhere nearby my workplace, grab a coffee and write. It worked for a little while until I started spending my time being distracted by people watching. Still I didn’t get discourage. I press on determined to succeed. I researched shared workplace and found the Gab cafe (There are plenty other options here in Montreal).


Tried it, loved it. The staff is amazing. The coffee is great. It is 3 dollars an hour. I am currently on the monthly membership but I think I’ll get back to the per/hour basis as I find that working with a limited amount of time (due to the 3$/hr rate) can be very motivating as opposed to the monthly membership where the amount of time is unlimited. Which brings me to rule number 3.

Tie it to a treat

About the GAB cafe, if I am to be honest, I don’t go for the writing. Yes, you heard right! I go for the coffee.

The delicious GAB coffee and sandwich combo

I go for the staff. They are super sweet. So I get there. A fresh water bottle is waiting for me. My coffee is brought to me prettily served (Their latte is to die for). As for motivation there are other people working and appropriate silence. Once I am done with my writing I can pay a quick visit to my favorite stores because they are all at walking distance. I am not sure how good that arrangement will prove to be for my bank account but I can assure you it is money well spent 🙂 For some reason there always seem to be a new item waiting for me. Although I don’t always buy, it never fails to put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. So whenever I don’t feel like going to write, all I have to do is think about the good coffee and the possibly new item waiting for me at one my favorite stores and my motivation goes up to 100 %.

And the lighting is good 🙂

Give it time

Everything takes time. A lot of time. Life gets in the way sometimes. We get in our own way as well. Give it time all the time it needs. Take breaks when you’re tired. Then get back up again. Keep at it until you figure it out. Stay flexible. There isn’t just one way to do something. Different things work at different times and different stages of our lives. And last but not least:

Anything count as writing: Not writing is the building block of writing

You are a writer even if you’re not writing at the present time (emphasis on present time, provided you have written at some point). To me writing is a way of recycling our experiences into something better, something useful and healing. This way of thinking helps me not to get discouraged. Lately, I’ve realized that the more mature I get, the better my writing becomes. I am able to tackle certain subject with much more assurance and depth. I now have a much more nuanced understanding of human nature. I have always had a highly attuned sense of  psychology but the older I get the more I am able to grasp how simultaneously fickle and wonderful human nature can be. The downside is I can now smell my own crap. I can no longer lie to myself and pretend I’ve moved on. All of this knowledge will hopefully help me create  multidimensional characters that adequately reflect the human experience.  After all, what is writing if not an attempt at translating our human emotions into something everlasting?

I hope you enjoyed this piece and will be back soon with a review of “interview with a vampire” by Anne Rice. Stay tuned and don’t forget to comment, like or share this article!



Version Française…


It was in Ottawa. The husband and I went for one of those long weekends. I was super excited until I learned I had to plan all of the trip activities. Mind you, it was just for a few days but still. Yes, I could have hopped on the internet and resurfaced with a long list of activities. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to monitor my excitement level long enough once on site for him not to realize I was as much a first-timer as he was. Besides, how do I tell him I was living under a rock when I used to live there? I should have hopped on the internet and come up with a long list of things instead of half-assing it. Instead the only things I could suggest was a walk on the Rideau canal, the Rideau Centre Shopping center and a stroll on the market place. While those activities can be romantic they are not adrenaline-inducing. It was quickly over with. When the husband mentioned museums I had to come clean and confess that I never ventured in that part of the city.

My confession was met with a stern face. Had I admit that two years ago I am quite sure he wouldn’t have proposed as fast as he did :).  My husband is always on the go, always moving, in fact when we go on vacation it is like going to a correctional boot camp. I come back even more tired than I left. Not exactly my type of vacation. I would happily go on one of those health-themed vacation where all you do is repeat mantra while drinking spirulina water.

On the last day of our trip we decided to visit the Rideau Centre mall. Unfortunately for us that day we discovered that there was a Disney store located in the same mall. Dear husband feigned complete disdain at first but I could see he was burning to check it out. Fives minutes after, he literally dropped me in the middle of a shoe store and practically ran to the said store. By the time I went looking for him (about 15 minutes later) the damage was already done.


I found him standing in a long line holding close to his heart, the way you would an only child, a mountain of Star wars action figures. I was shocked and slightly amused. Resolved to take action I planted myself firmly in front of him making full use of my 5’2. No use. His eyes were blank just like a walking dead. It was impossible to reach him. Being the good wife that I am, I resolved to wait till he finishes and drag him to Zara in the hope of convincing him to buy me a couple of blouses to calm his conscience. That plan quickly fell into the drain. The minute his toys were all paid for he seemed to experience a sudden wake up from his walking dead condition . He hurried us out of the mall as if we were wanted criminals leaving a crime scene. Bonnie and Clyde would have been proud! Next thing I know we’re driving back to Montréal.


Here is a snipped of the exchange that followed:
Hubby: ‘We are leaving’
Me: ‘What?! I am not done yet’
Hubby: ‘I need to put some distance between me and that store…’
Me: ‘Isn’t that exactly what I was trying to do just a few minutes ago and you completely ignore me.’
Hubby: ‘You don’t understand…I couldn’t hear you…’
And then seeing he is not going to win this round.

‘I blame the coffee’
Me: ‘Are you serious?’
Hubby: ‘I am not kidding! This is the first time I have had coffee in 6 weeks. It was bound to happen’.
Me: ‘Well, in this case you shouldn’t be driving because you’re clearly under the influence. And to think all this time road patrols were checking for blood alcohol level. They should have checked for blood caffeine level.’
Hubby: ‘Are you done making fun of me?’

I made fun of him the whole way back. When I shop I have a problem but when hubby goes overboard it is a small accident in the life of a very reasonable person. How convenient.

What about you dear readers, what is your vacation personality? Is it different from that of your other half? What is that one thing you spend money on like crazy?

Quand mon mari fait du shopping: 2ième partie

English Version…

La prochaine fois qu’on visitera un magasin Disney j’apporterai une croix et de l’ail. Si vous ne me croyez pas écoutez la suite…


Je me fais souvent taquiné par mon mari sous prétexte que je fais du shopping comme je respire. C’est- à-dire sans réfléchir comme un genre de réflexe involontaire. Au fait tout est bon pour justifier une séance de shopping.

Le printemps dernier, nous avons décidé de passer un long weekend à Ottawa. On voulait un peu sortir de Montréal et prendre de l’air.   Mon cher mari sachant que j’ai vécu pas mal d’années à Ottawa s’est empressé de me charger de la planification des activités. Comment lui avouer que j’étais pratiquement assise sous une roche à ramasser de la mousse à Ottawa?

Dans un premier temps j’ai pensé à aller sur internet et compiler une liste digne d’un guide touristique. Je me suis retenue juste à temps pour réaliser que ce serait quand même difficile de feindre l’air blasé d’un habitué des lieux alors que je les découvrirais avec des yeux aussi nouveaux que lui. Je me résolues donc de ne rien faire de la sorte et de juste lui faire visiter mes anciens favoris à savoir les centres d’achat (avec le recul, j’ai un peu honte), le canal Rideau ainsi que la place du marché.

Malheureusement, ces promenades bien qu’ayant un fort potentiel romantique ne sont pas des plus excitants, surtout avec un mari limite hyperactif.  Alors comme cela arrive dans les cas ou l’on flâne sans but précis on atterrit au centre Rideau. On flânait main dans la main comme des amoureux quand soudain devant nous se dressa dans toute sa splendeur funeste (et vous saurez pourquoi plus tard à la fin du récit) le fameux magasin Disney. Mon mari qui d’habitude est très raisonnable avait de la peine à cacher son excitation. Il y résista genre 2 minutes puis s’enfuya literalement en me plantant au beau milieu d’un magasin de chaussures.

Je continuai mon flânage pendant quelques minutes quand tout d’un coup mon sixième sens me souffla d’aller le rejoindre. J’arrivai juste à temps… ou pas. Mon cher mari était campée dans toute la longueur de ses 6 pieds, les bras remplis d’une montagne de figurines Star Wars lui arrivant jusqu’au menton. Choquée et amusée je courus me planter devant lui pour bien lui faire voir ma désapprobation. Peine perdue. Il avait déjà le regard fixe et vitreux d’un mort vivant. En le fixant dans les yeux je compris qu’il était déconseillé voire même dangereux de me mettre entre lui et la caisse. En plus, arrivé à la caisse, la caissière en profita pour lui parler d’autres promotions qu’il s’empressa d’ajouter a son sac déjà lourd de figurines.


Résignée je me résolus de l’attendre patiemment dans l’espoir de réussir à le convaincre de me payer quelques petites babioles chez Zara pour calmer sa conscience.

Mon plan tomba lamentablement à l’eau. Sitôt son gros sac sur l’épaule, il me fit quitter le centre d’achat littéralement en courant. On aurait dit des criminels s’enfuyant des lieux d’un crime. Bonnie et Clyde auraient été fiers de nous!

Outrée, j’attendis d’être assise dans la voiture pour lui demander des explications.

‘qu’est-ce qui vient de se passer là?’

‘Rien…on part juste un petit peu plus tôt?

‘Ne fais pas le malin avec moi, om chéri. Je me suis faite pratiquement traîner hors du magasin…’

‘Je m’excuse. J’avais peur de faire d’autres bêtises.’

‘C’est justement ce que j’essayais de faire tout à l’heure!’

‘Tu ne peux pas comprendre…’

Puis voyant mon regard sceptique.

‘Je blâme le café.’
‘Ah bon’
‘Se bourrer de café après tant de semaines de sevrage. Ce qui devait arriver arriva.’
‘Ah! Je vois…la cafféine a encore frappé. Peut-être qu’au lieu de vérifier le taux d’alcool dans le sang, la police de la route devrait plutôt commencer par vérifier le taux de cafféine…’
‘Cest ça…moque-toi de moi.’

Bien entendu, je l’ai taquiné pendant tout le chemin du retour. Ce n’est pas tous les jours qu’on a l’occasion de prendre les vertueux en flagrand délit. Surtout que mon cher mari ne rate pas une occasion de me faire la leçon sur mes soi-disants séances de shopping.

Et vous? Quel type de vacancier êtes-vous? Ça vous arrive-t-il de faire du shopping inpulsif?

Becoming Mother Theresa / Mère Theresa en devenir

Version Française…

 I believe one of my first posts when I started this blog was about being kind to everyone. Well it’s been a year and I have changed. I still feel the same way but let’s just say I would like to light the way ahead some more for the believers.

Have you ever had people you’ve treated with nothing but kindness turn around and mistreat you in a ruthless way or worst with total crassness? Well, I have. And more than my fare share which is why I have devised a few ways to cope in order to keep being my light and beautiful self 🙂 and also to avoid committing murder. Considering the number of times this has happened I should literally be vaccinated against such behavior but sadly I am not.

when shit happens to good people

But then again I am a Libra and as such I consider it my birthright to bring light and goodness to the mortals who surrounds me (insert shine bright like a diamond lyrics here). Let’s say I am a big believer in killing them with kindness. I know what you’re thinking. Maybe the people did not ask for my kindness or maybe my kindness is killing them…literally. Could be true but then again I am not here to bash myself 🙂 There are more than enough ”receivers of my kindness” out there doing it already. So instead, we’ll just focus on the other part of the problem which is ‘’them’’.

So here is how to deal:

Put yourself in the other person’ shoes

Try to understand where the other person is coming from. Remember there is always precedence for any kind of behavior. Most of the times, the present situation is rarely enough to get the full picture. Maybe the only time people showed kindness to that particular person was when they needed something from said person and discarded him/her the minute they got whatever they wanted. So their only experience with kindness was the abuse that usually follows. Therefore these people become overtime suspicious or simply wary of any act of kindness. Now when facing people in this kind of situation there maybe a strong urge to prove them that good people still walk the earth but I am telling you: don’t.  You’ll just end up constantly proving yourself to them which can be very tiring. Just let them figure out for themselves a way back into love. Remain courteous but do move on.

Accept people for who they are

And I really mean just that. I know it is one of those simple truths that seem so simple it is practically laughable. But it is just that. Learn to spot the good from the bad and plain ugly. Embrace the good and learn to cohabitate with the bad and ugly peacefully if possible until you can figure out a way to neutralize them. Always think about the end goal when dealing with people. What are you trying to achieve through that relationship? Then act accordingly.

 Understand that some people take kindness as a sign of weakness

Which means when you’re being kind to them they take it as a signal to start abusing you, thinking you must be either an imbecile or a sheep. Continue being courteous but limit contact to absolute necessity. Consider it as an opportunity to practice your poker face.

My face when people take me for an idiot…

And lastly, you have probably done the same thing or something similar to someone in the past and you’re still alive. We’ve all done it at some point.

I would love to illustrate this last piece of advice but unfortunately I am a saint 🙂 like I said I am not here to bash myself….

And if you happen to lose it while dealing with such people, don’t blame yourself. Just know you’re just a good person who’s been tried one time too many 🙂

PS: These advice only work on my good days 🙂

If you know any other ways of coping please do share!

English Version…

Mère Theresa en devenir

Être gentil, à l’heure actuelle ou les gourus et les grands manitous abondent, c’est vraiment un sujet qui tient à coeur beaucoup de gens. Comment rester zen dans nos relations avec les autres? Que faire quand on a affaire à des personnes méchantes, malpolies, hypocrites, profiteurs…en un mot des malfrats? Le premier réflexe est de bâtir un abri souterrain et de se terrer en remontant périodiquement pour distribuer des pamphlets genre ‘’protégez-vous’’. Disons que ce n’est pas la solution idéale….

when shit happens to good people

Beaucoup vous diront de tendre l’autre joue, de s’aimer les uns les autres et qu’il y a beaucoup plus de plaisir à donner qu’à recevoir…ne les écoutez pas..tout le temps. Ce sont des exaltés. Je vous le dit en connaissance de cause car étant balance je suis exaltée de nature (quelqu’un a t’il vu le fabuleux destin d’amélie poulain?). Heureusement que mon mari est là pour insérer une bonne dose de logique dans mes échafaudages. Non seulement ce n’est pas toujours possible mais des fois ca peut être carrément dangereux d’agir ainsi. Je dis toujours qu’il faut quand même essayer même si le chemin est des fois juché de mécréants, d’ingrats de profiteurs de toutes sortes.

Alors voici mes conseils pour face à la mauvaise herbe de la race humaine:

Soyez compréhensif:

On est tous passés par là. On a tous fait parti de la racaille de la race humaine à un moment ou à un autre. On a tous peut-être par le passé agit avec ingratitude ou méchanceté ou abuser du bon vouloir de quelqu’un qui ne voulait que notre bien. Essayons de nous en rappeler avant de nous offusquer et crier vengeance en déterrant la hache de guerre.

Essayer de vous mettre à leur place.

Selon le comportement de la racaille en question, cela risque d’être difficile mais avec un peu de pratique et beaucoup de cardio vélo on peut y arriver 🙂 Peut-être qu’il s’agit de gens qui se s’ayant tellement fait abusés sont à force devenus désabusés et remplis d’amertume. Dans ce cas, ils ont finis par adopter un comportement méchant et égoïste pour se protéger. Faites très attention à ne pas vous faire malmener et engloutir par de telles personnes sous prétexte qu’ils ont beaucoup soufferts. Quand vous rencontrez ces gens-là n’essayez surtout pas de les changer. Laissez-les plutôt mijoter dans leur désillusions et leurs amertumes et passez votre chemin.

Acceptez les gens pour ce qu’ils sont et s’ajuster en conséquence.

Je sais que cela peut paraître une vision bien simpliste des choses et de par là même difficile à accepter mais c’est vrai. C’est surtout très dur de faire cela quand ce sont des gens dont les valeurs sont complètement à l’opposé des nôtres. Mais c’est particulièrement essentiel de le faire dans ces cas précis. Il y a des gens qui sont  ingrats, égoïstes, profiteurs et non, ils n’ont pas eu une enfance malheureuse. Au contraire, ils ont été élevés par des gens bien et dans l’amour. Ils sont juste des connards, c’est tout. Pas besoin de psychoter, d’analyser, de sortir leur thèmes astral. Ils sont juste constitués d’atomes primairement crochus et ils sont parfaitement heureux ainsi. N’éssayez surtout pas de leur rendre la pareille, vous y perdrez votre âme car vous n’êtes pas fait du même bois à moins que vous ne le soyez….Si vous êtes forcés de travailler avec ces gens-là, restez courtois mais ne baissez pas vos gardez et neutralisez-les plus vite possible. 

Pensez au but final à atteindre. 

Sont-elles utiles à votre avancement professionnel ou personnel? Selon le but cela vaut-il vraiment la peine de garder ces personnes-là dans votre entourage? Est-ce des personnes que vous voyez souvent? Est-ce des membres de la famille que vous ne pouvez éviter? Dans ce cas limitez-vous au strict nécessaire.

Beaucoup de gens voient la gentillesse comme un signe de faiblesse.

Ils vont automatiquement essayer d’abuser de vous pensant avoir trouver la proie idéale. Quand je rencontre ces gens-là, j’en profite pour pratiquer mon ‘’poker face’’.

Quand on me prends pour une imbécile…

Et si malgré cela, vous perdez la boule et vous retrouvez un jour en incarcération temporaire pour coups et blessures, ne vous sentez pas coupable. Sachez que vous  êtes juste une gentille personne….poussée à bout.

PS: Il ya des jours ou rien de tout cela ne marche 🙂

Et vous? Comment vous y prenez-vous avec ces genres de personnes?

The Pregnancy Diaries: Take one / Allo Bébé ici Maman

Version Française…


It was around April last year. I was out of work and at home with a busy schedule and a full day ahead. We were planning a wedding or should I say my husband was planning a wedding and I was all over the place enjoying my meltdowns. I can tell you that my perceptions of myself have changed a lot since then. I had to admit to myself that I was a weak little person who enjoys calling her husband at work to have meltdowns.

That day I received a call from dear husband. Apparently so and so were expecting their first child. Naturally, my husband was over the moon. I was too…except that well… that sort of reminded me that we’d been trying for close to a year now with still nothing. After hearing such news I immediately put a halt to everything I was doing including some very urgent matters.  Chief among these urgent matters, finding a nice place that’s not too expensive for a summer wedding when april was already well under way. You get the picture. Yet I dropped all of that, hopped on the internet and typed: ‘’pregnancy symptoms’’. Maybe I should have typed ‘’absence of pregnancy symptoms and pregnancy’’. Considering my situation, the second sentence would have been closer to the truth. I swear if I don’t become pregnant in the next year or so I might need therapy. My husband is a very patient man but I think I might have pushed him too far. Even our cat , Cleo, may have started avoiding me:

Me: This is it

Husband: Oh God not again!

Me: No, but listen, the cat has been very clingy this morning..she keeps following me everywhere.

Husband: Did you feed her this morning?

Me: Of course, who do you take me for?

Husband: Have you changed her water?

Me: Well, wait a sec!

Turns out her water needed changing. The minute she finished drinking the ungrateful little animal completely deserted me.I am a very strong and resilient person so I ignored her too.

Some time after that, dear husband complained about a back pain which he has been dealing with for years. Still ignoring that glaring fact I hopped on the pregnancy symptoms bandwagon once again:

Husband: My back has been killing me lately

Me: This could be sympathy pain you know

Husband: What?

Me: Well yeah, sometimes some husbands are so in tune with their wives that they literally pick up on their symptoms.

Husband: Honey if I was in tune with you I’d be in a straight jacket a long time ago.

Me: Well, you can make fun of me as much as you want but according to many reputable sites on google..

Husband: Did you know that google does not replace your family doctor?

Me: Well I like google. With google I don’t need an appointment and I don’t need a referral.

Husband: Maybe that’s the problem..anyways why don’t you take a pregnancy test?

Me: I don’t want to know to know the truth. I just want to lock myself up in my little world and believe. I may also need a vacation.

Husband: A vacation will do you no good.

Me: Oh shut up

Husband: Based on our conversation, you need complete bed rest with no internet connection.

Me: You know, your crankiness could also be a sign of my being pregnant…

Poor hubby! What can you say to someone like me who has lost it a long time ago? I am afraid I can’t be saved but at least I am happy.

Would love to read your comments on this. And don’t forget to share or like this article! Big Kisses!

English Version…

Allo Bébé ici Maman

the_pregnancy_complexJe pense que c’était l’année dernière aux alentour du mois d’avril. Ce matin-là je me suis réveillée pleine d’énergie avec un horaire bien rempli. Nous étions en pleine planification de notre mariage, ou devrais-je dire mon mari s’en occupait et je passais de crise de nerf en crise de nerf. Juste au moment ou je m’installe devant l’ordi pour commencer à abattre les tâches les plus importantes, je reçois un appel de mon cher mari:

Mari: J’ai une bonne nouvelle, devine quoi?

Moi: Tu sais très bien que je ne suis pas bonne en devinette!

Mari: Monsieur et madame Y sont enceintes.

Moi: Ah……ok….Bon… suis très contente pour eux.

Et je l’étais mais c’est juste que, comment dire, ça me faisait quelque chose en plus. Ça me rappelait que cela faisait à peu près un an que l’on essayait sans rien à l’horizon.  Alors au lieu de retourner à ma longue liste de tâches à abattre incluant trouver une place pour le mariage de façon urgente, je me suis surprise  à surfer sur internet à la recherche de symptômes de grossesse en tous genres dans l’espoir inavoué de ressentir ne serait-ce que quelques-uns de ces symptômes. Sur ce point-là google est vraiment en passe de remplacer mon médecin de famille. Et bien sûr les symptômes ne se limitent pas seulement à moi. Oh non! Je prends aussi en compte la moindre petite douleur de mon mari. Notre chatte Cléo n’y échappe pas non plus, la pauvre. Pour elle je me dis que si elle est nourrie et logée gratuitement le moins quelle puisse faire c’est de participer au processus d’agrandissement de la famille.

Naturellement durant tout ce processus, il y a toujours un bref instant de lucidité qui me pousse à remettre en question ma santé mentale. Pour une raison qui m’échappe je ne peux m’empêcher de parler de mes symptômes à mon mari qui s’empresse toujours de me ramener, bon gré mal gré à la réalité:

Moi: Je pense que ça a pris ce coup là?

Mari: Qu’est ce qui a pris?

Moi (légèrement dépitée): Je pense que je suis enceinte…

Mari: Encore!!!???

Moi: Ben, le chat n’a pas arrêté de miauler depuis ce matin..elle ne me quitte pas d’une semelle!

Mari: Et?

Moi: Eh bien j’ai fait une petite recherche sur google et à ce qu’il paraît les animaux ressentent ces choses-là….

Mari: As tu verifié sa gamelle?

Moi: Bien sûr! Je lui ai déjà mis sa bouffe.

Mari: Lui as tu changé son eau?

Moi: Euh je crois que oui…mais là n’est pas la question…

Bon je vais quand même vérifier.  Effectivement sa gamelle d’eau était presque vide et datait d’hier. Je le remplis d’eau fraîche et l’ingrate, sitôt sa soif étanchée, courut se réfugier dans la chambre à coucher où y elle resta une grande partie de la journée m’ignorant de façon suprême.

Quelque temps plus tard, mon mari se plaint d’un mal de dos qui ne le lâchait plus. Ignorant le fait qu’il en souffrait depuis plusieurs années, je lui suggérai encore une fois quelques symptômes de grossesse.

Moi ( me parlant presque à moi même):  ça pourrait être des douleurs de sympathies…

Mari: Quoi!!!??

Moi: Oui, oui, d’après mes recherches google ça arrive souvent que les femmes transmettent leurs symptômes à leurs maris.

Mari: Ma chérie, premièrement google ne remplace pas le médecin de famille et deuxièmement, si je pouvais ressentir tout ce que tu ressens, il y a longtemps que je serais devenu fou.

Moi: Je pense que j’ai besoin de vacances.

Le mari resta silencieux pendant un bon petit bout de temps se demandant sûrement comment il a pu épouser une folle à lier. Quand finalement il me parla c’est plutôt sur le ton qu’on prend pour parler à un grand malade.

Mari: Je pense surtout qu’il te faut beaucoup de repos. Pour ton bien être mentale on va aussi couper ton accès internet.

Incomprise, je me réfugie dans le silence.

Mari: Ne serait-ce pas plus simple de faire un test de grossesse?

Moi: Mais non voyons!

Mari: Pourquoi?

Moi: Faire un test me ramènerait à la réalité. Je me verrais forcée de m’appuyer sur les faits et non mes sentiments. Je préfère mon petit monde imaginaire. Je peux croire ce que je veux. Je suis heureuse.

Mari: Cela explique beaucoup de choses…

Mon pauvre mari n’ajouta rien de plus. Après tout, que dire à quelqu’un en plein délire?

Comme d’habitude n’oubliez pas de commenter, de partager ou aimer cet article! Bisoux et à la prochaine!

The F Files is one year old! / Déjà un an!

Version Française…


Imaginez! le 22 mai les F-Files a eu 1 an! 1 an de dur labeur, de procrastination, d’auto-flagellation, de tergiversations inutiles mais oh combien nécessaires dans le parcours d’artiste torturé que j’ai choisi!

Je m’en rappelle comme si c’était hier quand mon cher mari a cliqué sur ce fameux bouton publier… J’ai sincèrement cru que j’allais avaler mon coeur ce jour-là.

Pour commencer par le début de toute l’affaire, cela faisait déjà un bon petit bout de temps que je répétais constamment à qui voulait bien l’entendre que j’allais  créer un blog. Pour tout vous dire j’avais déjà tenté l’aventure dans un blog d’une seule publication, dans laquelle j’ai dit “Hello Gang!” avant de disparaître à tout jamais. Je ne vous dis pas la honte qui me couvrait les rares fois ou j’y pensais (note du mari: moi je vous dit ça ne l’empechait pas de dormir :).

Après cet épisode malheureux, je préfèrais diriger toute mon énergie sur “parler” de créer un blog. Vous admettrez que c’est quand même plus glamour que de se retrousser les manches et le faire pour vrai. Mais contre toute attente, un beau jour, je me réveille tout d’un coup avec l’urgence de finalement créer ce maudit blog. Mon âme d’artiste, ayant pour une raison ou pour une autre grand peine à décoller, pourra enfin s’envoler et me laisser être paresseuse et tranquille.

Je contacte donc une connaissance de mon mari, qui elle-même par faute de temps me fit perdre beaucoup de temps. Mon mari comme témoin resta attentif et inactif. Bien entendu ce qui devait arriver arriva! Un soir je profite de ce que le mari était en train de se détendre en jouant à un de ses jeux vidéo favoris pour lui tomber dessus, façon boeing en perte d’altitude.  S’ensuit une diarrhée verbale sans queue ni tête entrecoupée de “tu ne me soutiens pas dans ma créativité”…blah blah blah…”mon talent d’artiste se perds”…blah blah blah…”s’aimer c’est deux personnes regardant dans la même direction”…blah blah blah.

Durant cette quasi diarrhée verbale, mari ne pipa mot, alors là pas un mot, je vous dis. J’en suis même venu à me demander s’il n’était pas soudainement devenu sourd. Bon, quand même satisfaite de lui avoir fait la leçon alors que la vraie coupable c’était bien sûr moi, je retourne vaquer à mes occupations (note du mari: de lui avoir pourri sa soirée :P). Dans ma tête c’était clair… j’ai essayé et personne n’a voulu m’aider incluant mon autre moitié. L’histoire est close. Je suis en paix. Mais contrairement à ce que je pensais l’histoire commençait à peine.

Ce soir-la, je me mets au lit convaincue que j’ai trouvé l’âme soeur. Qui d’autre aurait pu supporter une telle diarrhée verbale sans commettre un meurtre rapidement suivie de suicide? Très peu de gens, je vous dis pour avoir moi-même fait le tour de la question.

Alors, le lendemain je suis en face de l’ordi comme d’habitude et je reçois un appel venant de mon cher mari. Eh oui, il veut m’inscrire sur blogger ou wordpress je sais plus quoi. Je reçois aussi un courriel contenant proposition de logos ainsi que de noms pour le dit blog. Mon cher mari me demande de me mettre la-dessus pour que tout puisse se faire aujourdhui. Alors là, moi je panique. Tout va trop vite. Je ne fais rien durant la prochaine heure. Je retourne consulter mes blogs de mode. Alors mari m’appelle. J’ai pensé à ne pas répondre durant un bref instant.

Mari: “Coucou, Je suis en train de te créer un blog”

Contrairement à ce qu’il s’attendait je ne sautais pas de joie.

Moi: “Oh oui, merci mon chéri!”

Mari: “As-tu décidé pour le logo et le nom?”

Moi: “Euh, non pas encore”

Mari: “pas encore!!???”

Alors harcelée par le cher mari de bon matin, je fus forcée de choisir dans l’espace de quelques heures un logo et un nom pour le dit blog. Ayant fait tout cela, je pensais que naturellement il allait me laisser tranquille mais non…il avait d’autres plans.

Encore harcelée par le cher mari, je me décide à écrire mon premier billet que vous trouverez ici. Je n’avais aucune intention de le partager ce premier post! En fait pour tout vous dire, mon intention était d’écrire des brouillons non publiés jusqu’à ce que je me sente “prête”. Mais c’était sans compter sur la ténacité de bouledogue de mon cher mari…

Moi: “Ça y est, j’ai écrit mon premier billet”

Mari: ”chouette, laisse moi voir”

Alors moi toute fière je lui cédai mon siège d’écrivain pour la relecture.

Mari: “Ok, maintenant publions-le, ce petit billet…”

Moi: “Quoi!? Non, non, je veux juste pratiquer ma plume en écrivant des brouillons… jusqu’à ce que je sois prête à les publier….”

Ce qui dans mon jargon veut dire bonjour, bonsoir, bonne année et ne m’emmerde plus avec ça.

Mari: “!!!??? Non on va le publier. C’est ce que tu voulais non?”

Moi: “Oui mais après, tu sais…”

Mari refuse de m’écouter et appuie sur “publier”.

Mari: “Maintenant il ne reste qu’à le partager sur facebook…”

Moi: “Je veux bien mais pas tout de suite….de toute façon c’est sur internet, les gens finiront bien par trouver eux-mêmes…”

Mari:”Je suis désolé de péter ta bulle ma chérie mais les gens ont d’autre chose a faire qu’a essayer de deviner si tu as un blog ou non. De toute façon si tu ne partages pas tu finiras par ne rien écrire sur ce cher blog pour lequel tu m’a rendu la vie impossible….”

Moi: “Mais non, tu sais très bien qu’une fois que je m’engage, je m’engage…voyons regarde…j’ai plein d’engagements dans ma vie.. Toi… Ma nièce. Je suis clairement quelqu’un d’engagée…”

Mari: “Comme tu t’es engagée sur ton dernier blog?”

Et voyant que je n’arriverai pas à lui faire changer d’avis…je lui lançai une petite pique.

Moi: “Au fait c’est comme ta musique sur laquelle tu ne travailles plus depuis je ne sais combien de temps… Pourquoi dois-tu toujours ruminer le passé? Tu es juste fâché parce que je t’ai forcé à m’ouvrir le blog…”

Fouetté par l’adversité, il partage le petit billet sur son facebook à lui.

Seigneur, j’ai cru que j’allais m’évanouir. Je suis maintenant un livre ouvert. Je n’ai plus de secrets pour personne. J’écris à temps perdu et tout le monde le sait. Ingrate je crus bon de lui rappeler qu’il était en train de commettre un véritable suicide social et qu’il ne fallait pas s’étonner s’il ne recevait plus d’invitations pour les barbecues d’été arrivant à grand pas. Il fit la sourde oreille et décréta qu’il survivrai.

Avec le recul, je remercie mon cher mari d’avoir insister. Sinon je ne suis pas sûre que le F-Files fêterait maintenant son premier anniversaire.

J’aimerais beaucoup entendre vos propres histoires sur le sujet, donc n’hésitez pas à commenter, partager ou aimer cet article.

Gros bisous et à la prochaine!


english version…


I can’t believe that May 22nd marked the one year anniversary of my blog! I remember it as if it was yesterday… The first time my husband pressed that publish button for my very first post. I would love to say that I was jumping with joy but it wasn’t the case, at least at the beginning…

Me: “Well, okay now I have a blog (doing a little happy dance). I have written my first post so I am on my way. Thank you honey, I love you (big kiss etc.) …”

Hubby: “Okay now let’s publish it”

Me (experiencing sudden numbness of limbs and severe heart pounding): “No! I mean I think I should wait, you know…write a couple of drafts…see how I fare…build myself up and stuff…”

Hubby: “If you never publish, you won’t commit…”

Me: “What do you mean I won’t commit? I am committed to you, to my niece and… blah blah blah…why are you doing this?…(and finally finishing with) you’re doing this as a revenge because I forced you to put up the site”.

I know, these are all lame excuses but it is rare to find good excuses when you’re wrong in the first place.

Hubby: “??!!! Okkkkay….”

Big silence.

Hubby: “Anyways…..sharing it with people will force you to keep writing…..”

And the man was right because even after sharing it with people and getting positive feedback I stopped writing altogether for a couple of months, so you can easily imagine what would have happened had he not hit that publish button.

In fact, a long time ago, I started a blog on blogger, published one outfit post, said “Hello Gang!” and goodbye in the same post never to be seen on that space ever again.

Hubby: “Okay…here we go..ready or not…”

And then he proceeded to do the irreparable and pressed PUBLISH.

After hyperventilating for a brief period of time, I gathered my strength only to hear the heartless man announce that this time, he was going to share the post on Facebook. Not just any Facebook… HIS Facebook! Where all of his friends were now going to know my dreadful little secret. I WRITE IN MY SPARE TIME. I was devastated. I felt the need to warn him that he was committing social suicide and that I would not be blamed if he received no invitations for summer barbecues coming up. He didn’t listen.

And the rest is history….

But to be frank, I brought this upon myself. The day before the whole thing, the poor man was sitting at home enjoying one of his many video games (he works in the gaming industry) after a long and heavy day at work and me, “the creative half of the duo” as I like to call myself; arrived without warning, tornado style, and started accusing him of all sorts of things among which; not supporting my creative side, not being involved where it matters, not helping me be the next Garance Dore (insert big hat and pink champagne here). All the while I was going on and on and I mean ON, he sat silent not saying a single word until I was able to calm down, satisfied that we were able to ‘’discuss’’ it. (Hubby note: She basically ruined my evening)

That night I became convince he was in fact my soulmate. I mean a man who can handle such blatant word vomit without committing murder closely followed by suicide. Sign me up for life.

Looking back, I choose to believe I had gone temporarily insane. So, thank you dear husband. I am starting to sound like I am receiving an Oscar, so it may be time to end this post.

Would love to hear your stories about the first time you tried your hand at a creative outlet. If you have a blog and you’d like to share that experience, I would love to hear about it!

Thank you for passing by and once again do not forget to like, comment or share this post! 

Talk next week!



I believe I was with dear husband when it happened…this episode will forever be inked in my memory…

I had been in the market for one of those long flowy and super elegant dresses. And yes, I am completely aware that I am using the same type of vocabulary one would use for a more serious purchase such as a house or car. I mean owning such dress would automatically qualify me for afternoon tea with the Gatsby’s. In fact I could already see myself lying on a chaise longue…sipping tea…and looking stylishly hungry from staring at all the pastries and not being able to grab one less I stop breathing altogether. Did I mention that I was a daydreamer…give me five minutes alone by a window and I can make myself believe I am the queen of England 🙂

So one day while mindlessly doing some window shopping with my very stressed and on-edge husband…he is starting to know me and my ‘’process’’. After close to 3 years of being together he knows that I never really plan on buying anything when all of a sudden I am carrying a bag full of clothes that I absolutely need and he is helping me pay because well… I don’t have enough. So  like I was saying…I was window shopping and I felt a sudden urge to go into one of the many vintage stores that populates the area. As soon as I set foot inside I immediately proceeded to grab a couple of items, mostly dresses with one in particular with exquisite bicycle motifs,  nipped at the waist….the type that flatters almost every silhouette. Armed with these goodies, I hopped into a changing room…threw myself into the said dress….BIG emotional moment here….THE DRESS fits perfectly…

The Bachelorette GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

It was as if there was a dress god and he had chosen me  as his sole representative on earth….

Excited beyond measure…I quickly come out to show dear husband. I May or may have not performed a little dance in the form of a mild twirl. Dear husband takes one look and immediately noticed a tiny tear in the material at the waist…men eh? I guess it is their practical side…anyways I can not even begin to tell you the disappointment. Believe it or not I did not look at dear husband with kindly eyes…before you judge just think how you would feel if you believed you’ve found your soulmate and all your best friend kept doing is pointing out his shortcomings. I almost wish dear husband was not present…because I would have at least had the pleasure of bringing the dress home and experience the pleasure, even brief, of owning it….

Since I am not one to be easily discouraged I rushed to the first sales clerk in view and asked if by any chance they would happen to have a similar dress style in stock. What followed was one of the most painful experiences of my life…she looked at me with absolutely no emotion in her eyes and granted me a resounding “No”. In that moment I regret not being a high-powered lawyer because I am sure I could have made a case for ‘’unemotional customer service’’. I sincerely think that sales clerk making these kind of announcements should go easy on customers and carry, at the very least, a cup of chicken soup…as a show of empathy. 

We left the store and I became mildly depressed for the rest of  the day. My poor husband could not understand. I had to explain myself….

Me: “I think I am having a bad day…”

Hubby: “!!??…Why?”

Me: “You don’t understand…this was THE only happens once in a lifetime…”

Hubby: “Until the next purchase…”

Me (talking to myself): “You see…I had already formed emotional attachment to the dress…..”

Hubby: “But you were only in there for a couple of minutes plus you had other items with you…”

Me: “You know what? I don’t know why I insist on explaining these things to you…”

But I am quite sure, you dear reader, could easily understand…it might not have happened with a dress but I am quite certain we’ve all lived through something like this…It would greatly comfort me to hear some of your stories as this would reassure me that I am a normal person….after all….:)



Anybody who knows me knows that one of my favourite way to relax is to shop…I actually don’t have to bring home anything…just the mere fact of window shopping can, in itself, cure anything for me, which constantly puzzles my husband…

Me: (Gazing lovingly at an item, usually a piece of clothing)

Hubby (slightly annoyed): ”Well, instead of just aimlessly gazing at it, why don’t you save yourself time and ask a friend who bought it?”

Me: (horrified): ”Honey, my friends and I have decided a long time ago that we share the same taste in everything which frees us to buy whatever ridiculous item we want without any fear of judgement.”

Hubby: ”Which is why you don’t have many friends…”

Me:  ”Stop it! You’re intruding on my process…”

Hubby: ”Process!!??”

Hubby (scoffing): ”So, can you share your process and enlighten us mere mortals?”

Me (slightly amused and possibly on a warpath): ”Simple. I like it, I buy it.”

Hubby: ”Which would explain the many article of clothing still with the price tag on…”

You see…when my husband goes shopping, he turns the whole thing into a math homework. First of all there is the information gathering phase (notice the terms I used…this has nothing to do with joy). In this phase, he spends his time cornering…I mean downright pestering friends and family members with a list of questions and comparisons that would put a high-ranking Nazi general to shame. In fact, these exchanges sound like an interrogation session.

This phase also comprises all internet sites where the product is so much as mentioned. Then he physically goes into the shops to look at the item and pester a couple of sales clerk some more. I know what you’re thinking by now…but Miss ‘FFiles’ this seems like a man with a good head on his shoulder…well it is not. It would have been if this whole information gathering was immediately followed by a decision to either buy or not buy said item. BUT NOT AT ALL. Instead, now starts the grueling process of torturing both himself and his loving wife by coming up with all sort of reasons why he should not and can not buy whatever he’s planning on buying. I swear the guy turns the whole thing into a math homework. I suspect it is the phase he enjoys the most though.

As an example, this conversation happened after an intense shopping session during which I impulsively bought close to 10 pieces of ‘bare essentials’ at Aritzia, with hubby’s generous contribution. I somehow feel the need to mention that there was a big sale going on and also I get very impulsive when it is very cold. Blame it on the sale and the weather, not me.

So we’re shopping and we bought some stuff for myself and now it’s hubby’s turn to get that item he’s been dreaming of…

Here we  go:

Hubby: ”I don’t know if I should buy it…It is very difficult for me to buy stuff for myself…Plus I already have XYZ that does something similar…”

Me (falling into the trap like a wounded gazelle): ”Oh, C’mon now, you’ve been talking about this for so long …”

Hubby: ”Well, so much money..and let’s not forget we have XYZ bill coming up…”

Me: ”Yes but this money was part of your birthday gift…what’s the problem?”

Hubby: ”I don’t understand…it is so easy for me to buy stuff for the people I love though….”

Me: ”Well honey, in this case, I’ve been thinking…my new outfits need new shoes…we can always go back to the mall if that’s what’s blocking you…”

Hubby: ”C’mon..give me your honest opinion…”

Honest opinion!!?? How can I give him an honest opinion when I am literally being dragged down by a big bag of clothes he just bought me? So naturally, guilt forced me into being dishonest.

Me: ”Buy it! You deserve it!”

This goes on and on until, finally, he pulls out his cell phone, checks his bank balance, complains some more and then buys the item in question. Naturally, once he has the item in tow, buyer’s remorse kicks in immediately and we start the whole process once again. By now, you must be asking yourself why I do this to myself, why do I go shopping with him? Well, let’s just say I am good Samaritan and he is a generous contributor….