| Author: | Christiane-Rita Moodie | ISBN: | 9781311786579 |
| Publisher: | Christian-Yves Georges | Publication: | July 10, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Christiane-Rita Moodie |
| ISBN: | 9781311786579 |
| Publisher: | Christian-Yves Georges |
| Publication: | July 10, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
This short love story with a difference is one of many that I have penned over the years. I offer it to you free of charge as an h'ors d'ouevre in the hope that you will want to read more of my stories, both the long and the short. But first, may I present myself to you in total simplicity:
I am Christiane-Rita Moodie – a story teller. I spin stories and tales – some funny, some true and some invented, but fun stories just the same. I write my stories in French or English, depending on where they are set.
You may ask – where do I find my stories? Where do they come from?
They come from my life as a migrant, I was born in Algéria when it was French, I am a 'Pied-Noir' in eternal transhumance. Later, I was adopted by a marvellous country – Australia. So, I am a French-Australian and proud of it.
My stories come from my voyages, from the wonderful family who nurtured me, from the people I've met along my route, from dogs and cats I've loved. If I write about a city, it's because I know it well; a country, it's because I've lived there; a house, it's because it was my home. I like to say that I went around the world three times on foot – I've walked in Spain, in Scotland, in France, and in New-Zealand. In Canada I walked the route where bears live; I walked in the grandiose gardens of the Emperor in Japan; up the 300 steps to a lost shrine in China. I like walking, and in a plane, or on the bridge of a ship, I walk, thinking of another fable.
I started telling stories as a child, and as far as I can remember, stories tumbled into my mind; I just had to pluck them and write them. I grew up, fed on stories, and where ever I went I met personages who carried treasuries of fables and stories.
I think of a story, or I take one out of one of the drawers in my memory, and instantly I am surrounded by characters who present themselves to me. They invade my desk and my dreams, and to get rid of them I have to write that story. It is as simple as that.
This short love story with a difference is one of many that I have penned over the years. I offer it to you free of charge as an h'ors d'ouevre in the hope that you will want to read more of my stories, both the long and the short. But first, may I present myself to you in total simplicity:
I am Christiane-Rita Moodie – a story teller. I spin stories and tales – some funny, some true and some invented, but fun stories just the same. I write my stories in French or English, depending on where they are set.
You may ask – where do I find my stories? Where do they come from?
They come from my life as a migrant, I was born in Algéria when it was French, I am a 'Pied-Noir' in eternal transhumance. Later, I was adopted by a marvellous country – Australia. So, I am a French-Australian and proud of it.
My stories come from my voyages, from the wonderful family who nurtured me, from the people I've met along my route, from dogs and cats I've loved. If I write about a city, it's because I know it well; a country, it's because I've lived there; a house, it's because it was my home. I like to say that I went around the world three times on foot – I've walked in Spain, in Scotland, in France, and in New-Zealand. In Canada I walked the route where bears live; I walked in the grandiose gardens of the Emperor in Japan; up the 300 steps to a lost shrine in China. I like walking, and in a plane, or on the bridge of a ship, I walk, thinking of another fable.
I started telling stories as a child, and as far as I can remember, stories tumbled into my mind; I just had to pluck them and write them. I grew up, fed on stories, and where ever I went I met personages who carried treasuries of fables and stories.
I think of a story, or I take one out of one of the drawers in my memory, and instantly I am surrounded by characters who present themselves to me. They invade my desk and my dreams, and to get rid of them I have to write that story. It is as simple as that.
