My American Dream Is Only Half Come True

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But My Search for My American Dream Has Given Me Unexpected Gifts

By Norma Hopcraft

Today I'm offering other people's links--selfless of me, I know. Actually, I do hope these links are highly useful for you as you plan your trip to Paris -- or dream of planning your trip, which is the foundational step to making it a reality.

I believe in dreaming big. As a kid who played piano diligently, thanks to my mother's influence, I one day decided, while watching an episode of the TV show The Name of the Game (glamorous sports cars, beautiful women, settings in the great capitals of Europe), that I wanted to live and work in Europe. The only means I had of making that dream a reality was my skill at the piano. So therefore I would study to be a concert pianist.

I practiced like crazy, four hours a day, for a year, and I mastered complex music by Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, and many others. And then I changed my mind. But in that year I made huge strides as a pianist.

For the last 30 years, without changing my mind, I've been dreaming of being someone who is just about as rare as a concert pianist: an author who makes enough money on their books to quit their day job and just write. That's been my American Dream for three decades.

Another way to say it is my BHAG: a Big Hairy Audacious Goal. The United States had a BHAG, writes Jim Collins, who invented the phrase, when we decided to put a man on the moon. A simple, clear, memorable, compelling, engaging BHAG that can be expressed in several ways.

My BHAG: Have the financial and artistic freedom to write lots of novels that grab people's hearts.

In other words, "to publish my writing to critical and popular acclaim." Even more succinctly: "great reviews and bestseller sales."

I've known for those three decades, each jam packed with writing, that I was taking a risk pursuing this dream. I put hundreds of thousands of hours into writing, knowing my dream might not come true. But hoping. Plugging away anyway. I felt like I just had to write.

I think what my dream was really about was to earn the chance to feel good: the feeling that my life and my art really mattered, that my self-discipline to sit down every day to write had paid off, as I deserved. That my fans loved me and therefore I could finally, finally love myself and feel fulfilled and satisfied and loved.

In addition to satisfaction and fulfillment, I wanted a financial payoff. I wanted my writing to  provide for my old age, and also to free me from the daily grind of supporting myself in order to devote big chunks of time to writing.

I've gotten half my dream. I've gotten terrific reviews.

The second half of my dream, acclaim from the populace as shown in bestseller sales, has not come true. There's a chance that word of mouth will take off, but I'm not counting on it. When I look at the funds I'll someday retire on, I don't add in one single dollar from book sales. The royalties I make I plough directly back into Amazon Ads. 

I'm telling you all this because I've really wrestled with my Higher Power over the financial half of my dream. I tell him I've worked diligently for 30 years, I've done the right thing by developing my gifts, and I've exercised the Protestant work ethic (he who hustles wins). Not only that, the American Dream that I've grown up steeped in says that hard work will pay off financially. And I haven't seen it.

Have you felt this way, too? I've gotten really upset over it at times in the last six months, to be honest.

But after wrestling for six months, I've come to believe that my Higher Power is trying to wean me away from finding my fulfillment in "success" as I defined it in these previous paragraphs. Instead, he's asking me to look to him to provide the love, life satisfaction, self-acceptance and appreciation that I crave. As I sit with him each morning with spiritual literature, I do Step 11 from the Twelve Steps ("Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out"). Most mornings I get enough of a sense of his love for me that I'm filled up enough to go out and be kind, even on the overcrowded and frustrating streets of New York City.

I still feel sad that the financial half of the dream hasn't come true because I want so dreadfully badly to write several more books before I die. Right now, while I work full-time and commute two hours a day, I only get 600 words written per day. That's on a good day. A large number of days I accomplish 0. I'm a frustrated artist. I want to write! I want all aspects of my BHAG to be true right now!

But good things besides financial rewards have come to me because I worked toward my BHAG:

• I've lived more richly and fully as I've looked for insights and details about people, places, and things that I could use in my novels.
• I studied two topics that fascinate me for 30 years--writing, and the human psychology behind storytelling--and I made huge strides, just as I did in piano when I applied myself diligently.
• I delved into the world's greatest authors to deepen my own understanding and craft (and still do). 
• I took a journey around America on a bus. Never would have done that if I hadn't been enamored of John Steinbeck's classic, Travels with Charley.
• I finished a creative writing degree at New York University (magna cum laude, I might add).
• I lived in Paris for a year and wrote a novel there.
• I lived in Barcelona for three months and wrote several travel essays there.
• I've been part of writer's circles where I've gotten to know amazing human beings very well.
• Now, for my next novel, I'm interviewing amazing theater people and getting involved in productions. Fun!

None of that would have happened if I hadn't been dreaming my dream, pursuing my BHAG, developing the gifts my Higher Power gave me, and working diligently toward making my dreams a reality.

And lightning may yet strike my books. They're quite worthy of it -- and you're free to understand that two ways : )

So I believe in setting a BHAG.

I believe it's never too late.

I believe in dreaming big dreams, overcoming obstacles, and running the race. Not that I'm perfect at it.

My daily, real life is different from the dream I nurtured for 30 years. I am free to write, actually--not because I've been able to shed the day job but because I get up at 5:30 a.m. to carve out an hour to write.

That isn't to say I haven't been deeply frustrated with this. I've kicked against the goads. But lately I've decided to just accept what is and to get on with my writing BHAG.

Now, if your BHAG includes exploring Paris, I can help.

Some terrific links about Paris have come to my attention, and I've saved them up for you. I highly recommend these links as you dream, as you set your BHAG to be in Paris by X date:

The 25 Most Beautiful Places in Paris, from Conde Naste Traveler.
https://www.cntraveler.com/gallery/the-25-most-beautiful-places-in-paris?utm_source=nl&utm_brand=cnt&utm_mailing=CNT_Daily_PM_082619&utm_campaign=aud-dev&utm_medium=email&bxid=5c92ab7afc942d0bdffd2afb&cndid=29138620&hasha=b8e1d618699dc140ef8d724de26c7780&hashb=92c166ee0d1f598b6186d738cee7db1e4f48ee28&hashc=ced626f2dac9faee8de4511b015a1eb9a07a05c3409d94caa719e8fa28c2e2c8&esrc=SLVNA_16&utm_term=CNT_Daily

The 7 Best Places in Paris for Literature Lovers, from Newsweek:
https://www.newsweek.com/7-best-places-literature-lovers-paris-1456124?fbclid=IwAR0x8o1kms6NQlY6Z_Mtg3x0i9g1lNvTRGpdVMT3cLT7r-fNoczPzWTaddo

And for children, 5 Little Museums of Paris for Little Travelers, from the New York Times:
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/14/travel/5-little-museums-of-paris-for-little-travelers.html?fbclid=IwAR1fphU2hzf1bhEWFuryPoUofEZE_IJ4IILO5MRcFwLXQATJV1Orx4ewOnY

Au revoir, mes amies! Dream big! Comment below if you'd like a big dose of encouragement for your quest for a BHAG.

This Suburb of Paris, C'est Extraordinaire!!

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Yes, I'm in Search of the American Dream...

by Norma Jaeger Hopcraft

I'm in France for a new creative writing sabbatical, this time only three weeks. I won't finish a novel, like I did last time in a year-long sabbatical. 

But I'm making a big dent in a new novel, set in Brooklyn where I live now.

I'm grateful for my friends, whose hospitality makes this sabbatical possible.

Christelle lives in Viroflay, a suburb of Paris. Only 20 minutes by train to Gare Montparnasse! 

I've been exploring Paris, and also Viroflay. I'm delighted -- see pics from Viroflay below. And the people have been charming.

A few days ago, I went to a pharmacy in Viroflay, where I'm staying. I said "J'essaye en francais," which means, "I will try in French." And I told her in French that I felt I was coming down with the "grippe," like I had sand in my eyes. I demonstrated a cough. Then I stopped.

"Now we try in English," she said with a smile. I was crestfallen, but it worked out better. She interviewed me and found out I had headache and that I wasn't allergic to ibuprophen. She told me sand in the eyes is ALWAYS allergy. I never knew that. And I'm still not convinced it's true. She told me that the sleep aid I had at Christelle's would work with the ibuprophen she was giving me. 

She conducted a medical consultation in English! Wow! I'm sure she doesn't have to do that every day. Yet she switched to English with ease. These French are amazing! And she had such a big smile for me. She was patient while I tried in French, and she appreciated me trying in French. "Enjoy your time in Paris," she said as I left. I had a big smile on my face too. Citizens of two great democracies (may the far right and far left in both our nations not ruin everything) working together and having a great time.

Everyone in Viroflay -- and the Parisians, too -- has been so patient with me speaking French. Between a little French here and a little English there, I've managed to get through the reception process at two libraries, to get the bit of paperwork done and to gain an understanding of the rules.

I'm so grateful for my bit of French!

This has been a soul-satisfying stay. I bought chevre (goat cheese) in the farmer's market this morning and had it with slices of baguette. The bread was crusty. The cheese was white. Firm. Packed with flavor. Glorious!

Here are a few more pictures of beautiful French houses in Viroflay:

I like the little room above the door.

Gates, walls, such a sense of enclosure, of safety.

All these houses are built of local stone.

I went for a walk in the forest of Meudon, just outside my village of Viroflay.

The older houses have tile work that's so appealing. I'd love to live in one of these houses!

There's Christelle on a little shortcut through Viroflay.

This house on the right provides a wall for this little narrow way.

The town puts in lots of flowers, at every opportunity, as most towns do in France. How about you? Would you like to leave your life in the U.S. and live in one of these houses? Comment below!

My first evening in Paris -- spooky

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In Paris, In Search of the American Dream

by Norma Hopcraft

We're having a heat wave in Paris. 102 Wednesday, Thursday the highest ever temperature in Paris, 108 F.  But I am enjoying France anyway. I've had interactions with people in this town where I'm staying, just outside of Paris. They've all been very pleasant and helpful and happy that I'm trying to speak French with them.

My back went out, so I'm a little behind in my writing schedule. But I put in a good chunk of time this afternoon, and will give it another hour and a half now. Then I'll watch a French movie with English subtitles.

The first day i was here Christelle, her family and I went to a big destination in Paris, Les Invalides, an army hospital, still in use, that Louis XIV built for his men in 1670. We enjoyed a sound and light show and then went behind the hospital to Napoleon's tomb (covered by a gold dome--you'll see).

He was such a huge force in the history of not only France but all of Europe. When I looked at his huge marble coffin, I felt like there was still energy from him emanating out of it. He'd like to get out and do it all over again, only this time better.

His coffin is directly under the dome--maybe 75 feet below the highest point. His coffin is lit with special lighting and surrounded by marble statues of angels. And hovering above, Jesus on the cross. But Napoleon is the star of this show.

For all the glory and riches that went into making his tomb, what does it matter? Dead is dead. Whether you're in a pine coffin or an elaborate marble one. I think "dead is dead" is kind of funny, especially in light of all that was invested in making his tomb spectacular. I'm enjoying my irreverence.

This trip to his tomb, with other French ministers and generals in coffins in side chapels around him, all took place at midnight. It was really spooky--but delightfully so.

These pictures were taken by my friend Christelle's father. His name is Thierry Lamblin, he recently retired as a cardiologist, and he lives near Grenoble.

The main gate to Les Invalides, the huge army hospital, still in use, that Louis XIV built for his wounded men. The name of the firm that created the show, Lutece, is projected onto the facade, along with a tantalizing taste of the colors and effects that they used during the show.

The son et lumiere show was projected against the walls of the courtyard of Les Invalides.

In the center is Napoleon's absolutely huge marble coffin. We visited at midnight. Candles lit the marble floor, and spotlights highlighted the carved angels.

A shot of the dome, many many feet above our heads.

Jesus guarding Napoleon, who is definitely the star of this arrangement.

A shot of the dome at midnight.

The Eiffel Tower is near Les Invalides, lit up at night for all it's worth and probing the city with its spotlight. How about you? Want to do it all over again, only better? Comment below!

The Cannes Film Festival Is Part of My American Dream

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French Films and the American Dream

By Norma Jaeger Hopcraft

The 72nd Cannes Film Festival is underway (May 14 to 25) on the French Riviera. I always wanted to be there, to soak up the stories in film, the stories on the runway, the stories of creative process and how a film miraculously came together in a series of serendipities.

I was in Nice, France, with my sister, daughter, and son-in-law a few years ago. Our plan was to drive west from Nice, on the coast road along the Cote d'Azur, and drive through Cannes. They had no particular interest in it; they were humoring me.

See a map of the Cote d'Azur here.

The festival had concluded days before, but I wanted to see this world-famous destination, the world-famous film festival that carries more weight than any other. I wanted to feed off the creative energy that would be lingering among the palm fronds waving in the Mediterranean breeze. I wanted to take the buzz back to Paris with me so that, after my family left, I could apply it to The Paris Writers Circle.

The road cooperated for a nice drive with views of the sea, through one coast town after another. I was looking forward to being in Cannes and paying homage to film, storytelling, glamour.

In Search of the American Dream

It's part of my American dream to see a movie of one of my stories made. If it ever happens, I'll be on the set, with gray hair, telling the 20-year-old actress to button her blouse up because that's not how I wrote this character. And telling the director I believe in sexual tension in stories rather than explicit sexual scenes. And they'll be, like, yeah, yeah, she's so old, and ignore my wisdom. Sigh.

Back to my story. The road suddenly veered inland, up a hill.  We anxiously kept putting "Cannes" in the GPS, but it simply refused to take us there. Traffic was heavy -- and scary. And we had to make it back to Paris that day for flights the following day. We couldn't afford to backtrack.

So my homage was never paid. I've never been to Cannes and really hate having to say that.

We drove north to Lyon, which we'd heard is the culinary center of France. Arrived just as the restaurants were closing for the afternoon break. Another disappointment.

But what are we but resilient?

Resilience, dogged perseverance, butt in chair, and serendipities. That's my creative process.

So I have no photos of Cannes for you. But I have a link to the official festival site, here, and to images by Newsweek from the 2018 festival, here. And I have a list of my Paris housemate Daphne's most highly recommended French films, below.

Daphne is a great source for film recommendations. She works in show business in France, managing shows for various artists. 

Here's my dear friend Daphne, standing in a driveway in France. I will see her here in Brooklyn on June 4 when she comes to stay with me for a week! She understands showmanship, so you'll enjoy the movies she listed for me (below)

You'll see the French name of the film, her zany comments in parens, and then my notes on where I found (or didn't find) the film. In my case, "library" means the New York Public Library and Brooklyn Public Library systems. Most town libraries are connected to a bigger system -- persevere and you may find these movies no matter where you live.

I have been delighted with all the movies on this list that I've seen. The comedies are truly laugh out loud funny. The dramas are moving, emotional. There are no special effects. They are all about humanity, life, longing. They are excellent storytelling.

Here goes:

---------Comédie---------

- Ensemble c'est tout (cheerfully french !)

- Le placard (nice) buy $2

- L'auberge espagnol / Les poupées russes / Casse-tête chinois (it's a trilogy)

- La doublure (nicely funny)

- Les Visiteurs ( a MUST see! One of the classics!) buy on Am. $$$$ not on Netflix.

- La Grande Vadrouille (THE absolute classic)

- Les bronzés font du ski (a double must-see!) $8 on Am. Not on Netflix apparently.

- La vérité si je mens 1, 2 and 3 (crazyly funny^^) buy $4 on Am.

- Ma vie en l'air (quite great actually)  $10 to buy on Am.

- La chèvre (hahahahahahaha!!!)     rent on Amazon

- Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis (incroyable!)

- Rien à déclarer (a proof of the belgian inferior race ! Joking XD) rent $3.49

- Le gendarme de St Tropez (old but nice saga) no rent on Am. Not on Netflix stream or DVD either.

- La vache et le prisonnier (old cute movie). Not on netflix

- Hors de prix =)

- Un indien dans la ville (a big classic too^^)

-------Comédie dramatique------

- Jeux interdits (even if difficult, the cutest movie I've ever seen)

- Comme un avion (like my father said: only french people can make a movie like that lol)  get from library

- Le concert (beautiful sound)

- Jeux d'enfants (Glory of french surrealism)

- Le Grand Bleu (if you liked dolphins.. Luc Besson's movie) not on Amazon

- Dialogue avec mon jardinier (friendship is all) book only at library. Not on either Netflix

- Intouchable (a wonder...)

- La Populaire! It's a really enchanting movie :D not on netflix

-------Drame-------

Le Coeur des Hommes! (it's like a french Sex and the city version with men)

- Je vais bien ne t'en fais pas (Frenchly bothering)

- La Môme (Édith Piaf biography)

- Deux jours à tuer (every detail is important in that movie). Not on Netflix

- Mommy (Canadian movie in French Canadian... just admired the work!)

- Suite Française (it's in English but I loved it!!), not on netflix

-------Thriller/Suspens------

- Ne le dis à personne (well done!) yes, well done.

- Les rivière pourpres (Grrrrr)

- Cash (french suspens :P)

- 36 Quai des Orfèvres (good good good!) not Amazon. Not Netflix. Not NYPL library.

- MR73 (veeeeeeery good... but you'll need company to watch it I think)

- Léon (in English but french director Luc Besson... Natalie Portman is just incredible in that film)

Enjoy!! 

The Traveling Writer Visits a Monastery Overlooking the Hudson

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Recently I went to a monastery overlooking the Hudson River. I was attending a memoir writing workshop there.

I left work at noon Friday so I'd have time to go for a walk on the monastery grounds before dinner and the first workshop that evening. I was curious to see what happened with my writing – if I would find new enthusiasm for it, or bag it. Not that that would be a decision I’d take lightly, after a 30-year apprenticeship in the craft. But I have to admit, now that I have two novels published, writing feels different.

I think I used to think that “being published” would be a huge satisfaction, a confirmation of my artistic gifts. I thought it would give me a feeling of being “enough.” I think it’s helped my self-confidence some. What I find, though, is I feel less urgency to write, and that bothers me. Without my prior strong sense of urgency, I'm concerned I'll slack off. Writing has taken me on great adventures, and I don't want to lose out on future ones.

On this particular Friday in September, to get to the monastery, for the first time in my life I took the Hudson River branch of Metro-North. It leaves from Grand Central in New York City, goes due north for two hours, and stops in Poughkeepsie, end of that line. If you want to continue north, you can switch to Amtrak, which will take you further up the Hudson to Albany, then north to Rutland, Vermont, last stop Montreal.

My train careened past towns of huge name recognition, like Scarsdale and Sleepy Hollow.

It also hugged the edge of the Hudson River. The trees weren’t turning yet, but still it was beautiful. The clouds were reflected on the steel gray water, and the reflection of trees and mountains on the far side made a dark gray-green border.

The tracks were only a few feet away from, and only slightly higher in elevation than, the river. In 2012, Hurricane Sandy pushed so much water into New York Harbor and up the Hudson River, that cars parked at these riverside train stations were swamped with water and ruined. This happened, I know for a fact, at least as far north as Rhinebeck, which is further north than Poughkeepsie. And like I said, Poughkeepsie is two hours north of Manhattan by train. That gives you an idea of the volume of water pushed miles up the river. What tremendous force that storm had.

I enjoyed looking out the window at the now-calm river. In Poughkeepsie I took a taxi to the monastery, which is on the opposite side of the river, on the west side, which is the side where New York State apples and grapes for wine are grown.

The monastery’s driveway exits onto Route 9, a busy highway. The taxi took two switchbacks down the hill toward the river and deposited me at the visitor’s door.

I was the first person to report for the weekend, so I asked for and got a room that overlooked the river. I was given a tour. The chapel is plain but beautiful, the entranceway to the monks’ residence intriguing: stained glass panels throw colored light. Visitors are encouraged not to trespass on their space.

On the ground floor there’s a place where anybody who wants to can live longer-term. It has four bedrooms with single beds, kitchen, common area, and its own entrance. It overlooks the river too. It would make a nice place for a writing sabbatical. That is, if you enjoy the other people who turn up willy nilly. If you can uproot yourself from your life and live exceedingly quietly for months.

After uprooting myself from my life in the U.S. and moving to Paris for a year, I know what it takes. Banking, mail, a thousand things have to be managed before you leave. I started over in a place where I knew no one and not a word of the language. It’s a huge effort. I think I only have one or two such uprootings left in me in this life. I’m saving one for a return to Paris, and the other will probably be moving back to the U.S. in my very old age.

That’s my impression of my plan for the next (and last) 25 years of my life. And it doesn’t quite jive with the fact that I now have a grandchild whose life I want to be a part of. Maybe he would spend summers with me in Paris? Learn French as a child and speak fluently?

I can’t figure that part out. Well, you know me and my Higher Power – something great will work out. I have FAITH, an acronym for Fabulous Adventure In Trusting Him. He’s taken me on great adventures: the circumnavigation of America on a bus (pics here), a creative writing sabbatical for a year in Paris (pics scattered in this blog from 2016 on), living three months in Barcelona (pics here), and now an adventure living and writing in Brooklyn (pics here).

Writing in a Monastery, in Search of the American Dream.

Let me take you on a quick tour of the monastery. Next time, more pics of this a just a brief description of a writing workshop--in case you're curious as to what the heck we get up to at one of these.

One of the monks loves to garden. September asters make a big statement here.

The refrectory (dining hall) is the octagon extending from the back.

A fireplace in one of the common rooms.

Cozy seating in a common room.

A lovely, moss-ridden old oak just off the cloister.

The cloister.

Another view of the imposing oak.

Icons in the chapel.

Simple and true.

View of the entrance to the monk's wing.

A walking path.

How about you? Ever sought refuge in a monastery? Comment below!

American Dream: Find a B&B and Make Some Discoveries

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The Traveling Writer Sees Quirky Things in Rhode Island

By Norma Jaeger Hopcraft

Last week I shared my Louisiana music festival with you. I want to recommend Zydeco again! A week ago I invested in a C.J. Chenier live recording made at the New Orleans Jazz Festival.  I’m glad I did. His showmanship is obvious even when he’s not making music on a stage. And his Red Hot Louisiana band doesn’t play a single note that isn’t red hot.

While attending the Rhythm and Roots music festival (the largest gathering of Louisiana musicians outside of Louisiana) in Charlestown, RI, I stayed with my sister in a bed & breakfast in Kingston, RI.

We went for a walk one morning and found out it’s a college town, the University of RI at Kingston. We drifted onto campus and found an arboretum with a fantastic assortment of exotic trees. They were all labeled with their English name, Latin name, and area of origin.

Everyone in my family is a plant nerd, so we really appreciated that somebody, at some time, planned this place, took care to ship in trees that were likely to survive Rhode Island winters, and took the time to make sure each tree had a label.

This arboretum is a great, humane legacy that some person or persons created and shared. I admire that legacy-building instinct, and I’m grateful for it.

Let me share some quirky pictures of the weird trees. I have pictures of the labels for some, not all. Then we'll get into the bed & breakfast.

Look! A tree in camo!

This tree has beautiful bark in flowing lines.

This blue beauty is a Korean fir.

Here it is in close-up.

Not sure of the name, but it sure looks like green fireworks.

This is a larch, from Central Europe. A bit quirky-looking.

There were neat gates and structures throughout the arboretum.

Not sure what this is, but it sure does have strange roots.

The Traveling Writer Recommends the Sheppard B&Bs

We stayed at Sheppard’s Campus B&B, run by the Sheppard family. It was in an appropriately Victorian house and decorated with antiques. I always enjoy looking at this type of house and furniture, and I enjoy even more thinking how glad I am not to have to take care of any of it.

We had two terrific breakfasts and enjoyed the company of our fellow guests. We also enjoyed exploring the grounds.

A splendid house, both inside and out.

I love the weathered brick.

A compass rose built into the porch floor.

Tons of antiques and healthy potted plants.

A bird cage from India. Felt quirky to find it in Kingston, RI.

Close up of the front door.

Splendid hydrangeas, and all kinds of other beautiful plants, in the gardens.

One of the Sheppards had created a lovely garden around the house. Since I used to be a passionate gardener, and my sister developed one worthy of a House and Garden spread, we made a point of exploring the garden’s paths and noting the different foliage combinations that this gardener had fostered.

I sat in one of the seating areas to make a phone call and to just soak up the sight of sunlight on leaves. This is something I starve for in my life bouncing between Brooklyn and Manhattan. It’s one of the most gorgeous sights on earth, and this peaceful garden filled my soul up to the brim. Then a groundhog came out from under the porch and sat in the sun, to top it all off.

How about you? Been to a good B&B lately? Comment below!