A Return, Plus Some Exciting Writing News

On stepping away, being chosen, and the beauty of going unseen

I haven’t written in a few weeks because I went on a journey across an ocean, back to the country where I was born. I spent time with my parents, reconnected with dear friends, walked for miles, stared at art and trees, and was reminded again and again how complex and devastatingly beautiful some aspects of the U.S. can be. America is a place I’m proud to be from, a country built on the notion that anyone, from anywhere, can become more than they imagined. Of course, that pride accompanies many other, sometimes contradictory, thoughts I have about what America means—especially now, and especially as someone with French nationality living in Paris.

I didn’t post about my trip—there were no airplane selfies, nor any curated dispatches from restaurants or touristy sites. I barely took photos. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel the need to announce my movements. It felt freeing to go off the grid and just be.

I didn’t check in here, either. I let the newsletter rest, as I didn’t feel like trading sleep or time with loved ones for a deadline. Now I’m back in Paris and writing here again. And to all of you who subscribed recently, welcome, bienvenue. I’m so glad you’re here.

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While I was away, something absolutely unexpected and wonderful happened:

I was accepted to Rosemary’s House, a writing residency in Greece. I’ll be heading there in September to work on a creative project under the mentorship of one of my favorite novelists, Coco Mellors, whose books I adore and who has deeply influenced me as a writer.

Courtesy of Rosemary’s House.

Though this newsletter focuses on Parisian life more than my creative writing, I wanted to share this amazing news with you. I often don’t have much to report re. my creative projects: I submit poetry and always get rejected; I grind away at a novel when I can, unsure what will ever come of it.

When I saw Coco Mellors had been announced as a mentor for this residency, I thought, What the hell, why not try? I stayed up late in a hotel room and filled out the application—my first for a residency—and sent in a fiction sample. I hit submit just before midnight on a Tuesday and braced for another rejection.

A few weeks later, back in Paris, I left my phone at home while I went to the laundromat. When I came back and refreshed my inbox, there it was: an email from Rosemary’s House. I assumed it was a “no,” but instead it was a message from the founder, Angelica Rose Toumbas:

Dear Victorine,

Thank you for applying to RH. As soon as we announced Coco Mellors as a mentor, we received an unprecedented number of applications. Our team endeavors to review each application with care, as we know that our applicants put a great deal of time and effort into their work. After carefully considering your submission, we are thrilled to extend our warmest congratulations: we would be delighted to offer you one of the coveted spots in Coco's 2025 Residential Workshop.

Your novel excerpt captivated us from the very first lines. The evocative sensory details immerse the reader in a vivid atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. You have a gift for crafting scenes rich in emotional undercurrents, hinting at the complexities of your characters' inner lives. The subtle foreshadowing of the husband's departure sets the stage for a profound exploration of love, loss, and the delicate threads that bind people together or tear them apart. We are eager to see how this story unfolds against the backdrop of the Greek landscape.

As a poet, your lyricism shines through in your prose. The way you distill emotion into potent, economical language demonstrates a writer attuned to the power of every word. We have no doubt that dedicated time and space to focus on your novel at Rosemary's House, in the company of other thoughtful writers, will allow you to delve even deeper into your characters' interior worlds and the central themes already emerging so powerfully in your pages.

I sat down on the floor and cried. I called my mom. I texted friends.

This acceptance means the world to me. To know that a small team read my work and chose me (me!)—for one of only 8–12 spots—is humbling. And, I won’t lie: it’s deeply validating, too.

To be a writer is to live with rejection. You spend a lot of time alone and second-guessing yourself. I’ve always felt like an outsider when it comes to fiction. I have no formal training—just a handful of workshops and classes under my belt—and I’ve never published literary work. I’ve mostly just tried and gotten told “no.”

But in September, I’ll travel from Paris to northern Greece to join Coco and other writers with the rare gift of time, space, and community. It still doesn’t feel real.

Courtesy of Rosemary’s House.

That said, getting there does come with some costs—especially since, as a freelancer, my income takes a hit when I don’t work. If you’d like to support my writing during this residency, I’d be so grateful if you considered upgrading to a paid subscription. Or, consider buying one of Coco’s novels through my affiliate Bookshop.org links below; every purchase supports indie bookstores and earns me a tiny commission that could cover some coffees or an airport salad.

Cleopatra and Frankenstein

Blue Sisters

Merci so much for reading. I’m thrilled to be back, and I’ll have more Paris stories next week (and, of course a report from Greece in late September).

À bientôt,
—Victorine